¦~°SHADOW IN THE WOODS°~¦
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"Damn it, Lyd...pick up the phone..."
Deon hissed beneath his breath as he paced back and forth across the lawn, using an excessive amount of restraint as to not yell out several creative curses and upset the neighbours.
He'd heard quite enough from them already, thanks to Lydia playing her music as loud as possible at all times, as if she'd never heard of a volume button.
Running a hand through his dark, side-swept hair, Deon took a sharp breath of cold night air, quickly reaching the end of his tether.
It was past midnight, his younger sister was still out and he couldn't seem to get ahold of her.
As her solitary guardian for the time being, this, of course, filled him with the worst case of panicky jitters and nervous butterflies he'd felt in a long time.
Lydia wasn't stupid, he thought, trying to calm his nerves. It's not as if she would have wandered off into any stranger's car. But it was the fact Deon knew she was a smart kid that was frightening him the most. Why hadn't she called? Or even just sent a text saying she was okay?
Then again, he couldn't say that this was uncharacteristic for her. Lydia would spend most of her nights out even when he still lived there. However, it was their mother who'd always dealt with it. Surely, Lydia would know to send a message once in a while confirming she was alright? Or at least to tell him where she'd be before disappearing?
This was the first time Deon had experienced Lydia's worrisome habits firsthand. He'd only been home a few days, after all.
The majority of that had been spending time with his old friends, Warren and Gabe.
There hadn't been any issues so far, Lydia had been going straight to bed consistently and was always up at the perfect time to get ready for school.
But that night, when he knocked on her door to ask if she'd seen his phone charger, he discovered that she wasn't even in the house.
He couldn't call his mother, what would she say?
His mind clouded with frustration, Deon leapt up into the porch and snatched his jacket from the coat hanger, slamming the door closed behind him and he scrambled toward the pathway, struggling with the zip as his pace quickened.
Leaving the door unlocked made him feel uneasy, but if there was a chance Lydia would return while he was out looking for her, the last thing he'd want would be for her to find herself stuck outside in the cold, dark night.
He had no destination, no idea of where to look. His mind kept yelling at him to move, to do something, anything rather than just sit around hoping the problem would solve itself.
Coming home wasn't supposed to bring on so much stress.
It had barely even been a year since he'd finally escaped this dreary hell.
After turning eighteen, Deon left his little hometown to live with his father in the city. And it was the best decision he'd ever made. He had an easy job in the local jewellery store, owned by one of his father's close friends. This meant his boss was the very definition of chill, which was the absolute best for a magnitude of reasons.
That store happened to also be where he first ran into Grace, whom he made a fool of himself in front of while trying to impress her after being caught off guard by her stunning looks. Funnily enough, they started dating only two weeks later.
However, that story was for another time.
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His father's house wasn't anywhere near as big as his mother's. In fact, it wasn't a house at all, but an apartment. However, it was well kept. Not all cluttered and dusty and dull as Deon had dreaded it would have been. His father had worked his ass off turning the place into a real home.
He remembered how messy his father used to be, and the absolute state the house was constantly left in. Seeing how far he'd come, Deon felt legitimately proud of his old man.
Bright coloured walls and plants, (living ones, for a change) in every room. He learned to treasure his tiny slice of heaven, keeping it clean and spotless permanently. His father was especially protective of the cream carpet in the main room, which Deon learned the hard way after spilling his drink on movie night.
He scrubbed at that carpet for weeks on end.
By now he had jogged around half the entire town, nearing the border of the woods.
Bending down with his hands on his knees, Deon was reaching peak stress levels when, suddenly, his phone rang.
Glancing at the screen revealed an unknown number.
Honestly, if he had answered to some sort of scam artist at the time, it was likely he would have smashed the damn thing to pieces right there. Thankfully, it was Lydia's voice that spoke.
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"Yo."
She chirped as if her big brother hadn't been scouring the town, afraid she may have been kidnapped or even murdered for the last hour.
"What the fuck, Lyd!?" He growled into the phone, sending several birds in the nearby trees fluttering off in surprise, "Where the hell- do you know how...why aren't you at home?!"
Stressed Deon, all his agitated thoughts trying to come out at once.
"Relax, I was with a friend. I'll be home in like, twenty, kay? Just giving you a heads up so you don't think I'm a burglar or something, I know how paranoid you get. Like, remember that time when you walked downstairs in the middle of the night in just your underwear with a baseball bat because you thought you heard-"
"Why aren't you calling on your own phone?! Do you know how long I've been trying to get ahold of you?"
"Why? I thought you were asleep. My phone ran out of charge ages ago, so I'm using my mates."
She spoke so nonchalantly, Deon's anger and stress transitioned into pure annoyance.
"If you thought I was asleep, why would you call, dumbass?"
He hissed, rubbing his still sweaty forehead.
"You're a light sleeper, duh. And, like I said, I know how you get all jumpy at the slightest of sounds. Didn't want you pissing your pants and trying to attack me when I get home. Hey, why are you so out of breath? Ew, I didn't catch you masturbating, did I? Oh my god, remember when you forgot to lock the toilet door and Mom-"
"Finish that, and I won't feed you for a week. I know you're only bringing this stuff up because your friend is listening, asshole."
"Pfft, whatever. I can hear your blush over the phone, you big baby. It's your fault for not being careful. Man, you two couldn't look each other in the eyes for weeks, it was fucking hilarious! Oh! Before I forget, you need to buy cat food first thing tomorrow, my poor baby boy cannot go hungry. Want me to text you a reminder in the morning so you..."
Deon pulled the phone away from his ear, immediately silent as a sudden sound rushed through the trees right by him.
Staring into the woods, he didn't see any movement.
An animal, perhaps?
He'd heard of foxes coming out of there and rummaging through some peoples garbage, though he'd never seen one himself. It could have also been a racoon. Or garbage puppy, as Lydia so lovingly called them. Apparently, she found them cute.
She, however, wasn't the one who actually had to deal with them once they start haunting the garden all summer.
"Hello? You there?! Oi, stop being ignorant! I thought you were, like, desperate to talk to me or something? Why are you ignoring me?"
"Hi, sorry..." He apologised, raising the phone to his ear once again, still staring through the thick lining of trees, "I thought I saw something..."
"Wow, see. Told you you're jumpy."
That sound again, a quick rustling of leaves. Only this time, he saw something as well.
A dark mass, a shadow?
Too big to be a fox.
"Sure, sure..." Deon mumbled, "You're heading home now, right? Just...don't do this again, if you want to go out, you have to talk to me first, or at least give me a call, understand?"
"Yeah, yeah, whatever. See you soon."
Left in silence, he couldn't just walk away, not now.
Sliding his phone into his jean pocket, Deon slipped through the border of the woods into the dark sea of trees.
It couldn't have been a bear, there had never been one sighted in these parts. A deer?
No, it looked too tall...
Then, another thought crossed his mind. What if he was stupidly walking toward his own death?
For all he knew, this could just as well be some mentally ill maniac waiting behind any one of those tree trunks to stab him and steal everything he had on him.
Which was no more than a barely functional phone with more cracks than actual screen and a half-decent pair of shoes.
A final swish of dark mass rushed past, a little closer this time. Though now, there had also been a hint of white visible.
Deon took one step forward, craning his neck out toward the closest gap of trees, trying to catch even the slightest glimpse.
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Then, common sense kicked in.
What on earth was he doing? Trying to spot some silly shadow drifting around in the woods, likely little more than an innocent animal.
Lydia was heading home, he had to be there first in order to stand at the door and watch her approach with a disappointed glare before lecturing her for the millionth time.
Perhaps one of these days, she'd actually listen to him.
So, Deon raised his nose in the air and turned around, walking back home like the mature adult he was.
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Then, childish curiosity kicked in.
That hint of white, the way it seemed to be disappearing every time he tried to catch a glance, what on earth was it?
Maybe...
What if it was a ghost?
Leading him toward their rotting remains, wanting to be buried so their soul could finally rest in piece?
No, that was dumb.
Besides, he didn't even believe in ghosts.
Well, that is to say, he'd never seen one himself.
Lydia and his mother were both supernatural fanatics, however. Constantly convinced that every tiny house creak and wind whistling outside was a spirit attempting to reach them from the beyond. He was far more concerned about more realistic fears, like burglars. Or Mormons.
So, what could it have been?
Clenching his fists, Deon turned once again with a groan, hating the fact he seemingly couldn't bring himself to walk away.
Tired of changing his mind, he charged onward, straight through the treeline. Pushing low branches out of his way and following the direction he'd seen the mysterious shadow drift toward.
He was able to keep track of it rather easily. The sound of rustling leaves here, a snapping branch there.
With every step Deon grew more and more impatient, picking up his speed until...
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Silence.
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Gazing in all directions, straining his ears as hard as he could, it all achieved nothing. So there he was, stood in the middle of the woods, looking like an absolute fool.
He was seeing things, he must have been. He was tired, after all.
Rubbing his eyes with a final groan, Deon let the knawing sense of defeat wash over him, knowing he'd now have to hand-wash his brand new shoes for absolutely no good reason.
What kind of moron waltzes into the woods because they saw a shadow?
A moron like Deon Keene, apparently.
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CLUNK
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A sound so loud, a nearby squirrel which had been hiding in the shadows suddenly fled up the closest tree.
That sound, heavy and metallic...
It most certainly didn't belong in the woods.
Taking cautious steps, Deon found himself at a small opening, meaning he must have reached the very centre of the woods itself during his little escapade.
Breaking through the treeline, he at last found what he had been looking for.
Only, it was the last thing he could have possibly expected to see.
His mouth hung open, his hand barely able to grip the phone in his hand.
It was a girl.
Well, a woman, from the looks of her.
And she was stark naked.
Not only that, but she seemed to have some sort of metal helmet covering the top half of her head, meaning she probably couldn't see anything.
Her skin was painted with cuts and purple bruises as she lay her sealed head on the stump of what was once a large oak, her fingers digging into the dirt below as her back rose and fell rapidly, like she was out of breath.
Deon had no idea what to do.
His initial instinct was to call the police.
But all normal, sensible thoughts seemed to flee from his mind as he finally realised just how strange the woman looked.
Her skin was pale. No, it was practically white, like a ghost. As white as the moon that bled through the branches above, shining down upon this enigmatic stranger, as though it were a headlight on the stage as she lay still and silent.
No human should have a complexion like that, no one still living, at least.
Then, there was her hair. So long, it trailed on the ground around her. It must have reached her knees at least.
The deepest black, like oil dripping down her ivory body.
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Now, he was trapped.
He couldn't walk away, not after seeing such a thing.
But what was he supposed to do?
It seemed as though calling the police really was his only option.
Though, there was no station locally, meaning they'd have to come from the next town over. Hopefully they didn't take too long, he thought, lifting his phone and beginning to dial.
But the moment his finger touched the screen, the mysterious woman's head snapped to face him, catching him off guard.
He jumped out of his skin, his phone landing in the leaves and twigs below.
Frozen, he only stared back.
He hadn't made a noise and her eyes were covered, so how had she...
Slowly, with movements closer to resembling a marionette rather than a normal person, the woman stood up straight, still facing him head-on.
"...um...do you need help?"
He called out, an icy chill running through his body.
She took a step, but somehow made it look like the most difficult thing in the world. Her leg shook as it met the dirt ground, paved with leaves, her arms and upper body swaying as though they weighed a thousand ton.
"Is...is there anything I can do to help you? Do you want to call someone? You can...use my phone..."
She didn't reply, didn't make a sound. Her perfect, pink lips remained sealed.
Deon didn't dare look away from her face, the lower half which he could see at least, desperately trying to keep his thoughts on his girlfriend, Grace, as this pale-skinned goddess with a body like Aphrodite continued toward him.
His eyes were practically at war with his mind, desperately fighting against weakening willpower.
He was a gentleman, that's what Grace's girlfriends always called him.
But even the gentlest man had his limits...
Once she was only a few steps away, she seemed to stumble, grabbing at the metal device on her head and pulling at it.
"Is that...stuck?"
Deon wondered out loud, closing the gap between them and reaching out, worried she was about to fall. Up close, he could see how tight the thing was, her skin around its rim bright red and presumably sore.
Some sort of botched BDSM play? He frowned, his mind running through the possible explanations.
Getting a better look at the strange metal helmet, he wondered if he could help, placing his hands on either side.
As he did, the woman let out a cry, falling back and landing on the ground, panicked.
"Hey, hey, shh, it's okay..." Trying to soothe, he crouched down, fully aware of how guilty he would look were someone to stumble across them right then, "I'm not going to hurt you...here, just let me take a look."
After a moment's hesitation, she leaned her head toward him and he turned her gently, getting a better look at the curious object while mumbling beneath his breath.
"...the hell is this thing..."
It wasn't like anything he'd seen before. The metal was thick, far thicker than any normal helmet needed to be. The sides of it were hooked against the poor girl's head, as he could see where she had been attempting to pull it off had caused real damage, trickling blood beside her ears.
However, there did seem to be a small mechanism pressing several harmful parts down which looked as though it could be pulled back.
Not with bare hands though. It needed tools, and very small ones at that.
This stranger was clearly in pain, and who knows how long the police would take to get there. Besides, now he could think with a clearer mind, he knew for a fact those assholes probably wouldn't be much help. He'd had plenty of firsthand experiences with them to know exactly how they worked.
It would be far quicker if he just...
"Listen, I have a toolbox at home, and I think I could pry that little doohicky open and get you out of there. It's a short walk from here, just ten minutes if we cut through the back of Ward Street. Or...would you rather I just called the police? Because it's totally up to you, of course."
She didn't answer, didn't even seem to respond to his voice this time, her blind gaze staring down between them.
"Do you speak English? Are, uh...are you deaf?"
Once again, nothing.
With a heavy sigh, Deon pulled his jacket off and wrapped it around her. Thankfully, he was far bigger than she was, so it covered all the indecent parts.
Then, he slowly took her hand, making sure she was okay with following him.
Sure enough, she gripped back and allowed him to pull her up. Her grazed knees shaking as they once again took her weight.
Only a few steps later, she stumbled, her legs buckling beneath her. Her hand gripped his tighter, as she let out an almost silent whimper, it became clear she was having difficulty walking.
Silently apologising to Grace, he reached behind the stranger's bare legs and lifted her up in his arms, bridal style. Her skin felt like ice against his now bare arms, which definitely didn't help the...situation he had going on downstairs.
She remained oddly calm, as though she finally understood that he was trying to help her. This made Deon feel a little less awkward too. Pressing her hands against her chest, she finally relaxed, her tense body appreciating the break.
Being early morning at this point, Deon could only pray that none of the neighbours caught him walking the streets carrying a near-naked girl who looked all beat up, let alone with what looked like a torture device strapped to her face.
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The last thing he needed was any more dodgy rumours spreading around.
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*****
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Lydia still wasn't home. At this point, he wasn't sure whether or not he should have been grateful for that.
After closing the door behind them, he gently lowered the girl to her feet then ran to pull the blinds. Again, anything the neighbours thought they saw would be spread around the entire town before the weekend was up.
"Phew, okay..." He breathed, brushing his hair back, "Right, you just wait there, I'll be right back. Gotta run to the garage so I can grab..."
He paused in place, watching with silent confusion as the woman bent toward the ground, tapping the floor with her fingers.
"Uh...is everything...okay?"
She didn't respond, instead, she began moving forward while still tapping the ground, toward the stairs, where she then tapped the wall, gradually making her way up.
Deon felt like he should have done something, said something at least. Told her to stay put, say she couldn't go upstairs, ask what in the name of god she was doing...
But he was far too dumbfounded to even make a sound.
Instead, he found himself following her as those tip-tapping fingers danced their way across the landing and toward the bathroom, where her curious hands found the bathtub.
She paused for a moment, gripping the enamelled steel edge before blindly fumbling over it, landing inside with a thump.
"Woah, you okay?"
He asked with a flinch, concerned about her already damaged body.
Yet again, there was no reply. She only turned in place, tapping the faucets for a moment while tilting her head.
Maybe she was actually worse off than it seemed, Deon thought.
For all he knew, these could be clear signs of brain damage.
All he could say for certain was that it definitely wasn't normal.
At least she appeared stolid in the tub and didn't seem to fancy wandering off again.
With a quick puff of air, Deon decided to just run, grab his tools and get this damn helmet sorted out.
After that, well...he honestly hadn't planned any further ahead.
Slipping through the kitchen, into the hall and through the old door, he reached his hand around, fumbling for the light.
It flickered on, illuminating their mess of a garage. The spare car was neatly tucked away, looking as useless as ever, while his mother had taken the decent one.
The one that used to be his father's.
Deon never liked the garage. It reminded him of the old days, when his parents both lived in the same house. Back when his father had turned to drinking, overwhelmed by the racist locals toying with him at work.
To put it lightly, the town wasn't very accepting. So when the bright-eyed, blonde-haired, fair-skinned local beauty that was his young mother returned from holiday with a tall, dark-skinned man, life became a little tougher from thereon.
Deon hadn't experienced it much first hand, other than a few comments here and there about how he and his sister couldn't be related, him being half-cast and her a flawless mirror image of their mother in her youth. Though they both shared their mother's bright teal eyes.
The two had different fathers.
Actually, his mother had turned up pregnant with another man while they were still together.
Lydia had never been told the truth about her father, their mother didn't see it as necessary. Deon disagreed, but didn't dare argue with her. Besides, it was for Lydia's sake. As far as she was concerned, her father simply left when she was little.
Even though, in reality, he had never been there to begin with. And had no interest in being, even after learning about the baby.
Lydia was too young to remember him, but Deon's father had lovingly cared for her as though she were his own.
Even after the heartbreak of finding out his beloved had slept with someone else, he wanted to stay and support them all. For Deon's sake, mostly. But he also couldn't turn a blind eye to the state his mother had found herself in.
That man was far too kind and forgiving for his own good.
His mother, however, never quite grew out of old habits. Father's mental health deteriorated and he eventually moved out a few months after Lydia's fifth birthday.
Deon was eight by then, and it tore him apart. He only became more and more aware of the issues his mother had as time passed.
Shaking the old memories from his mind, his mind tuned in to the sound of water running above him. Grabbing the toolbox, he fled upstairs as quickly as he could.
The girl was sat there peacefully, having removed the jacket he gave her, she now had her heel pressed into the drain while the water began to flood the bathroom.
"Shit..." He hissed, turning off the taps and throwing all the towels on the floor before the water could reach the hall, "Why did you do that?!"
Turning to face him, the stranger yet again only responded with silence.
This time, it was annoying.
Deon had dealt with enough stress that evening.
Just get the helmet off, give her some spare clothes and send her on her way.
That was all he had to do.
Curse him for not being able to walk away in the first place.
"I'm gonna try and get this off, so...just stay still..."
He spoke with a sigh, grabbing a thin screwdriver and turning the woman's head.
She remained calm still, even though the water she had surrounded herself with was ice cold. Her hair filled the tub behind her, bobbing slightly every time she moved. Her pale skin almost camouflaged against the white tub.
Deon felt his agitation begin to drain as he noticed strange, small details. She had no moles, no scars, no details on her whatsoever, as though she were a living mannequin.
Also, her body didn't seem to have any hair at all. That, or it was so fine he couldn't see it, even up close.
Her skin itself let off no scent. No hint of perfume or deodorant or even sweat.
Finally, the screwdriver slipped beneath the mechanism. Holding the helmet tight, he grit his teeth and used all his strength to pry the thing open.
The moment it was loose enough, she pulled away and Deon fell backwards, the strange device still gripped tightly between his hands.
His head hit the back wall as he landed on his tailbone, the many soaked towels surprisingly not making his landing any less painful.
With a loud groan, he rubbed the back of his head before raising his gaze.
The stranger was now stood up, rubbing her face. She then looked down at him, showing little to no expression through her stunning complexion.
That, however, wasn't what had frozen Deon in place.
It was her eyes.
He wasn't sure quite how to describe it. They were purely...unnatural.
She had no pupil, no iris, no sclera.
The entire thing was just black, pure black. As though someone had filled her sockets with darkest of inks.
The way theystood out against her pure white skin, sat beneath long, dark, feminine eyelashes as she stared down at him...it left him speechless.
Then, without a word, she stepped out of the tub, over his collapsed body and out into the hall while he stared, mouth agape.
He lay there for a moment with no idea what to think, half considering that he may have gone mad.
The sound of the front door opening instantly knocked him back into his senses.
"It's just me! Don't panic!"
"Lydia!"
Rolling over and scurrying onto his feet, Deon moved as quickly as he could. Almost tumbling down the stairs, he froze at the bottom, finding his sister stood before him with her hands on her hips and a wide smirk.
"Damn, bro...do you have no shame?" She tutted, turning toward the living room, where the mysterious girl was stood in front of the television, still very much naked.
"I mean, I know you've got needs and all-"
"It's not what it looks like!"
He growled, rushing past her and slamming the door closed, completely flustered.
"Suuure...but, listen, as a fellow female, it is my duty to tell Grace. Sorry man, it's just girl-code. Also, I can't wait to watch her kick your ass."
"Lydia, please, listen to me!" Deon begged to grab her shoulders, unaware of the stranger slowly approaching their TV, "I swear to you, it's nothing like that. This girl, she's...she's not norm-"
Both their heads snapped to the side just as their wide-screen lit up in sparks, exploding into several pieces right there.
And though that was horrifying in itself, it was the woman who had both their attention.
It had happened so fast, in an instant, in fact.
Right as the explosion happened, she disappeared into a thick cloud of black mist, which flew across the room, diving behind the sofa, only to reappear as the woman again, crouching behind it, frightened.
The pair turned to face each other again, as their eyes seemed to read a silent, mutual agreement.
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We are in way over our heads.
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