Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hidden deep within the crevices of America are those areas of desolate land; the deserts, the ghost towns, the small communities shrouded by mountains. It is there stories like these are born, in the warm and familiar arms of a loving but strange commune. The grand expanse of barren earth and sky, the whispering of trees and grass, the watching of the animals and spirits. An Eden but a kind of hell within.

It is home, but it carries a long, gruesome history of loneliness forever trying to find a place to fit in.

You are never truly welcome in the land you've claimed to have been your home.

This feeling does not only roam among the empty land of quiet towns. Do not think that you are safe from it once you start seeing it everywhere. Like a rotten carcass, the smell will reek off of it and seep into your skin. You touch it once and it will follow you everywhere. It will haunt you until the end of your days. Your eyes will become hollow and your face gaunt as you are struck with horrifying visions of your last days. You will come to fear the regret of what you could've been, guilt will be ebbed deep into your heart and you will never know peace. Unsettling nightmares that disturb your sleep and a ghost of what you once were; a living, breathing, creature with beautiful potential now wasted and dead, forever forgotten.

Ever since he became part of the local police team, you've had a crush on Keegan. You can't even fathom how it happened, it wasn't like it was your first time seeing him. You'd seen him around town as a girl, shyly peeking from behind the shelves when you coincidentally happened to be at the general store at the same time. You guess it came from a sense of admiration you've always harbored for the older boy. But it wasn't until he wore the clean, pressed dark blue shirt and pants with the buckle and cap that your heart tumbled. You swore you could feel it jump within you whilst your body froze seeing him for the first time looking serious as he drove down the streets in his car, his eyes hard and face set straight.

"He's quite a beau."

"Well, he's a man now."

These were all things you'd heard folks repeat time and time again when Keegan was seen assisting the elderly, doing his patrols or helping the community in some way. You don't know why he did it. There wasn't any crime, most of the time it was all volunteer work. Honestly, who could care so much about an old rundown town like this one? The houses were deep down a dirt or gravel road while passerby drove past the silent town on the main paved one. They might stop in a town which was conveniently built close to the road. More accessible to the roaming ones than those who settled.

Part of the reason why you were currently sticking your hands in dirt under the harsh sun was because you were sure Keegan has shown up. Today, the community gathered to tidy the church. Most women had taken over cleaning the inside, a clever way to avoid the heat. The elderly women wanted to care for the flowerbeds and no one denied them from doing so. Anyone else who arrived after did not have the freedom of choice, they were assigned to wherever help was needed which included the most laborious tasks. That's how your knees were now covered with dirt and your clothes smudged.

The sun's glare burned into your back as you bent over the garden. Your knees ache as stones dig into your skin. Your fingers plunge deep into the moist soil, deeding out deeply rooted weeds. You flinch when you feel a cool, squishy body wrapping around your finger. Pulling back your hand, you shake the earthworm loose, it falls squirming on the ground and writhes through the dirt, hiding away from the sun.

Sighing heavily you raise your head, the tautness in your neck causing a pang of pain to run down your spine. Blinded by the sun, you raise your hand to shield your view from the dust carried by the wind. Not far off, you spot a place to relax under the shade of nearby trees. Standing, you make your way to the rows of peach trees, as you fall back onto the grassy earth your gaze travels up the tree, its branches twining up to the boiling sun.

The trees' limbs swayed aft and fro in the wind, sending their leaves into a spirographic dance. You close your eyes beneath the peach tree, the branches heavy and full of ripe fruit. A noiseless void begins to grow in your mind, like a little seed that expands its roots into the fertile soil, filling up all empty space until it is overcrowded with a deafening daze. It's like you're alone in this world.

Thinking of things that are familiar; you lying here, on the warm soil beneath the peach tree which bears heavy fruit, ready to drop at any moment. You lie on the dirt, beneath you right now is an entire system of its own; earthworms, ants, all sorts of bugs. You used to not like thinking about what was beneath you, but there are far worse things that could squirm out from beneath the ground than just vermin.

An empty deafening sound like tinnitus filled your mind, the chattering of the congregation soon faded until it mixed with the wind and the swaying of the branches. A strong breeze came and shook the trees, dispelling the branches of their leaves that went flying every which way.

The quiet humming is what caught your attention. Opening your eyes, the sun has hidden behind a cloud, the wind blows softly and the fallen leaves scatter over your body. The soft grass caresses your bare thighs, your dress having ridden up, exposing your skin. The footsteps of something, someone was picked up. The first thought that bubbled up within your mind was the steps of a doe. Turning around, your eyes searching through the rows of blooming peaches, and there you meet two pools of sky. Eyes with color that might as well have been heaven’s blessing to earth.

Keegan’s boots made no sound as they stepped over the soft earth. With his gaze downturned and focused on where he was stepping, you took the liberty of eyeing him up and down. The white sleeveless undershirt clung to his skin, damp with sweat, glistening as he came out from the shadow of the peach trees and the sun no longer hid behind the clouds. His belt tightly secured his pants around his waist, where his gun was usually strapped to.

“Must’ve left it behind to come to church.”  You reasoned before seeing his fingers wrapped around the grip of his gun.

A heavy feeling that you were being watched made your eyes snap back to his. His thick, full eyebrows raised quizzically, eyes deep and penetrating.

“Why’d you bring your gun?” You asked, already feeling that skittery feeling creeping and crawling down your back to your stomach.

“Figure I’d catch some game out here.”

“While volunteering?” Cocking your head,  you brought your hand to shade your eyes as the sun rose high in the sky again. And instead of answering, he lowered himself to the ground, his knees sinking into the grass.

“Wa-al,” he started, dragging out his response, separating “Well” into two syllables; a habit in speech learned from the older folk.

“Wal?”

“Everyone else gone home, doll.” And here he leaned in close to your face. You sniffled and caught a whiff of him; pine tree, sweat and dirt, everything a man ought to smell like. It stirred the growing fire of nervousness and giddiness within you. It scorched the walls of your stomach, wanting out.

“I got something real nice to show ya.” He grinned.

“Keegan Russ, why, I do declare! Everytime you say you gon’ show me something ‘real nice’ you always scare the living daylights right outta me with some old, dirty trick of yours.”

“I won’t! Not this time!”

“No, no. Don’t fool me. I can see your face, you fixin’ to make me scream.”

The corner of his lips had remained silent and controllable while his eyes flashed with fleeting, yet perceptible playfulness. Keegan just had a way of getting under your skin, moving in ways that made you want to jump and peel back the layers of your skin to find what he’d done, to split yourself open, find what layers of skin he had penetrated through, what bone he touched the marrow of. The mere sight of him was so tangible it made you ache with impatience in the most inner part of your body, and what you weren’t aware of was that he was the very sword you’d pierce yourself with to bring your tortured soul to light.

Keegan took you to his pickup truck he had brought. He offered you his hand as you hoisted yourself up into the truck bed, pressing against the side of the truck where the mud had hardened. You backed up to sit on the cutout of the arched wheel, watching as he moved tools and freshly cut wood of sugar maple trees.

“What do ya need so much wood for?”

“The minister wants new flooring put in somewhere in the church.” He replied without looking up as he continued rummaging about.

A moment later, he slid a cooler across the floor of the truck bed to you. You open it to find cans of beer. Stumped, you turn to Keegan to see a can already in his hand, open and drinking from it. You watch as his Adam's apple protrudes as he greedily drinks. He finishes, licking his lips for any remaining drops.

He cocks his head, observing like a bird, waiting to see if you’d follow.

Sighing, you take a can from the cooler. The tips of your fingers hold the can gingerly, reminding you of your first time holding a weapon. Your fingernail plays with the tab, pretending you’re having a hard time opening it. Feeling yourself shrink under his gaze you bite your lip, your tooth digging into the soft skin of your lip.

You don’t look up, but you hear his sigh, long and tired. You think he’s beaten and on his last straw until his hand wraps around yours.

“This is how you open it,” he started, “It’s like a soda can.” And with his thumb he positioned yours and pushed it forward, opening the can. You brought it to your lips, the aroma already filling your nostrils. With one last glance at Keegan, who only nodded because he seemed to know, you took a swig. It was warm, the taste was off but you drank it anyway because he’d offered it to you. Even if it was the cheap beer with reduced alcohol levels because it was the only kind sold at the general store. People didn’t drink it for the taste, it wasn’t made to taste good.

Keegan hummed a tune as he looked far ahead.

The soft afternoon breeze blew across the land, making the cordgrass ripple as it tickled the mare’s stomach. She whinied and threw her head back as she skittered about. Your fingers went over the markings on her caramel coat. Following the markings on her you moved up to her mane where you brushed the pine needles out and entangled your fingers in her mane. You raise your eyes when you hear the screeching of an eagle, following its flying form in the sky as it glides over the field and disappears towards the mountains in the far west.

Spring, summer, fall, winter; it didn’t matter, the mountains in the background and the landscape were timeless. The rest of the world could’ve stopped existing and you wouldn’t care, as long as this quiet corner of the world stayed as comforting as it felt.

“You ready, dreamgirl?”

Your head turns at Keegan’s call to see him walking out from his shed. He stopped beside you near the wooden fence. And his mare, who’s ears had picked up his voice, and nuzzled up to him. She smelled his face, neck and chest, searching for treats.

He chuckled, his voice rumbling deeply within his chest. “Sorry girl, I ain’t got no treats on me this time.”

“When are you gonna let me ride her?” You asked, your hand reaching to scratch her ears.

He hummed, taking his time to pretend and mull over the question. He picked a pine needle from the mare’s mane, twiddling it between his forefinger and thumb.

“Mebbe sometime when I’m not busy…”

You groaned. “When are you not doing something?”

“At night.” A devilish smirk broke out onto his lips.

You scoff, the mare whinnies, and Keegan laughs meanly.

The sun set rather quickly, spreading her flames, enveloping God’s creation and then sinking behind the mountains, leaving behind her essence in the swirl of reddish, orange afterglow.

You switched between the stations on the radio in Keegan’s car. He rarely took his pickup truck, on most days you saw him cruisin’ down the street in his black ‘96 Ford Crown Victoria whenever he was on duty.

You waited as another song came on, the tune blending with the cicadas singing.

Keegan had offered to take you home, and your tired and aching body compelled you to accept right away.

“I was a-thinkin’ just now,” Keegan said as he entered the car and was settling in the driver’s seat. Putting your feet down, you perked up to hear him.

“Why don’t you get a car?”

You blinked, your eyebrows knitting together.

“What’re you trying to get at now?”

“Wal, with all the flyin’ about you do, you ought to at least get a buggy.” He said, humoring himself as he turned the key in the ignition.

“You serious?” Was all you said as you rolled your eyes and settled back into the car seat, getting comfortable again.

He drove down the gravel road away from his house, nearing the end of the road that connected to the main one everyone took.

“I’ll even let ya borrow my horse if you buy a buggy from that old-timer Rick.”

Rolling down your window, you breathe in the night air. Now that fall was nearing, summer was starting to quiet and would slowly fade out along with the bugs. The sun was already starting to set earlier, and that warm night air wouldn’t stick to your lungs as you breathed it near the smoke and fire.

The streetlights illuminated the quiet road; the road where a car could drive on in solitude for miles, the soundless tires never get anywhere past the townsign and nowhere near the state line. With the way the streetlights were placed few and far in-between one another, a whole lot could happen before you reach the next light.

The car turned left into what could only be considered a path because it wasn’t pavemented, and it didn’t even have gravel, just dirt.

As the car’s tires roll over the old tracks tractors left behind, you turn to Keegan in the darkness. The outline of his face is barely visible, the image clear in your mind only because you had memorized it; the flash of a perfect smile, the lobelia blue eyes, the coal black hair. The picturesque features of an ideal American.

“I can feel you staring now.” His words come out in a slow manner, too focused squinting at the route ahead of him which he could barely see.

“Have you ever thought about placing street lights near the paths like they do in the cities?” You ask, not acknowledging his previous statement.

He sighs, as if about to go into a long ordeal.

“A few of us have suggested it, but the chief always declines. He doesn't want to waste money puttin’ in lights. You can see just fine, you don't need lights on these roads, it'll just cause more people to come out at night. We hardly have much crime in the first place so I guess it doesn't matter much.”

“If there’s barely any crime, isn’t your job boring?”

“I’ll be honest, most the time I’m just patrolling ‘round town. Ain’t much to do besides that.”

“‘Course, less crimes means folks around here are safe and doin’ pretty good, and that’s all that matters.” He continues. “Now, other cops who hail from bigger cities might look down on us small town cops and say we ain’t got nothin’ on this. But I say, we just as good as them. In a lifetime of stillness we still get our five minutes of sheer terror.”

“What’s the worst? Someone’s chickens escaping from the coop?’ You scoff.

“Murder, usually connected or stemming from domestic abuse.”

“Murder?”

“They’re not extremely common, but they do happen from time to time. A few bodies were found in the woods a few towns over from us. There were a few in the old mine shaft too.”

Suddenly, you’re interested in taking him seriously.

“You’re not playing me, are you?”

Keegan only shakes his head, you gasp.

“What mine shaft?”

“Oh, I’d have to show you.” His voice carried forward with eagerness.

“It’s this map I found while looking through my grandpa’s old library. And it’s all territory that runs up to Norfolk and even runs down here too.”
“What runs?”

“I’m getting there, don’t rush me now.”

He licked his lips before continuing. “Simply put it covers the whole state, with all the creeks, mountains and towns marked. The map is practically falling apart as I held it in my hands but you’re able to make out where miners marked all the mineshafts. Nice, ain’t it?”

“I’d say it is! It’s not everyday that you find somethin’ like that.”

“I was hankerin’ to clear a day and explore all those old mineshafts. The map is from the late 1800’s so there’s no telling how true it still is.”

“And how does this all string back to those murders?”

“Nothing slips by you, does it?”

“Not yet.”

“Back in the day, it was easy for a criminal to hide a body somewhere like a mineshaft because accidents weren't unusual. Nowadays, it wouldn’t be a smart move for a criminal to do anything since the police station has improved. But…”

“But?”

“It may be nothing but an old fool’s talk, as my grandpa would say, but it seems strange.”

“In what way?”

“Nothing happens here, but the energy seems different for some reason. For bodies from the late 19th century to turn up soon as those recent ones were seen too ain’t normal. It could only mean they haven’t been discovered before. But no calls, no reports have come in even after those mines have been cleared out and most shut ‘n sealed. All the stations in the state are connected, if something happens over yonder you bet it’d be heard of here.”

“You’re worried about an old case and a murderer on the loose?”

“We talkin’ more than just a murderer, we’re lookin’ at a whole state being fine with whatever’s goin’ on. And nobodies been workin’ those mineshafts for years now, dolly. No one to reclaim. Police ain’t worried.”

“But not in this town?”

The car creeps slowly up the end of the path, stopping a little distance short of your house. You can’t see it now, but deep inside, Keegan can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for telling you this. It wasn’t something to worry the chief about and it shouldn’t be something to get the townsfolk riled up about either.

“It shouldn’t matter. We got a good lot of folks in this town, you can’t say you distrust any of ‘em. As long as yer sticking to yer roots, trouble shouldn’t come your way.”

Dryness coats your throat, and with nothing else to say you thank him and exit his car. He doesn’t drive away as soon as you’re out, nor when you’re making your way up the porch steps and not even once you’ve entered your house and the porch light’s out. He contemplates a good while out there, turning over a seedling of a thought in the soil of his mind. Could simply be his curiosity minced with irrational fear that started to plague his mind, but sooner than later did this expand its roots.

Back inside your room, you discarded your dirty dress on the cold bathroom floor. The cool night air underneath the house was already seeping through the wooden floor though it was nearing the end of September. But October along with fall was creeping up with cold nights.

After washing the dirt and sweat off your body, you picked your dress off the floor to see a streak of mud on it. Not soil from the gardening you’ve been doing.

You remember the hardened mud on Keegan’s truck.

Chapter Text

Water flowed around your limbs as you floated in the river. You drifted along easily as if you weighed nothing. For a moment, you wondered if you were dead or alive. There was no death as peaceful as drowning. The burning sensation in your chest had ceased and your corpse floated down the river as the currents carried you off to a watery grave. Water swarmed between your legs and you felt a trickle of warm, thick liquid that wasn’t water.

You awaken to your bed sheets stained red with blood.

The basin overflows with water and soap as you stuff the bedsheets in, your hands sore from scrubbing the stain off. Pulling up another bucket of water you pour it into the basin giving the bedsheets one last good scrub on the washboard. Ringing it out you hang them up to dry on the clothesline.

Loose strands of hair stick to your nape as the sun peers over the mountains. Today was going to be unbearably hot.

Entering the house through the back door, you walk into the kitchen. Your mother’s back is turned to you, her hair in a low ponytail, her apron tied around her waist as she stands over the sink peeling eggshells. The TV in the living room is turned on. The voice is tight, as if the speaker was making an effort to squeeze the words out of their throat.

“I always get off the 9th floor when on the elevator. When I was walking down the hall, I heard footsteps behind me. I turned around to see somebody following me, and no one else was there. And then as I was continuing to walk, I felt a cold chill.”

Taking a seat at the dining table you leaf through a magazine, it is old and faded, the pages dogeared. A clatter of plates makes you take your eyes off the models on the page as you see your mother setting breakfast on the table.

“Turn the TV off, we're going to pray.”

“Mind telling me why your shirt is soaked?” She asks, eyeing you. You feel her gaze focus on your chest and you look down to see your shirt is see-through and the contrast of the black bra you’re wearing underneath the soft cotton tank top is obvious.

“I used the wash basin.” Crumbs dropped onto the plate as you bit into a piece of toast. “Why?” It’s not like any visitors were over. “I can’t be comfortable at home?”

She sighed. “I need you to go into town and run some errands.” Picking up a knife she spread butter smoothly over the crisp surface of the toast. Hearing her say that suddenly made your bones feel heavier; your shoulders slumped, your mouth felt dry and you felt very dirty. Your hand reached for the juice pitcher, your fingers fumbled and the handle slipped. The juice stained the tablecloth; dark red seeping into the fibers of the white fabric.

Your eyes watched the stain expand. “I don’t feel like going out today.”

“I wasn’t asking. You finish chewin’ that piece of bread in your mouth, change into proper clothing and git.”

Raising your gaze from your plate your eyes wander around her, not yet meeting her eyes. The hair on her nape was already frizzy, dried from sweating in the perspiration of the boiling kettle on the stove. The neck on her skin hung like a rooster, not as tight and smooth as when she was young.

There weren’t many pictures you’d seen of your mother as a young girl. But you could imagine her; her thinning hair thick and bountiful and her aching and stiff muscles once strong and graceful as a young doe. Her yellow teeth stained from years of drinking cheap coffee from machines as pearly whites that showed when she smiled.

She often told you of going into work young. It was a story she’d tell many times when disappointment was evident in her face. Her eyebrows would knit together, her glaring more powerful and likely to turn you into stone.

She blamed the rest of the world for her hurt. And you learned to take that resentment too.

Harboring resentment is like treading through murky water, the effort is great and the aftermath is messy. It takes to stalking you, misery laughing at your bitterness. Circumnavigating; always finding its way to you in every path you take.

Taking an old tin bowl you open the creaking door to your porch to see the dog resting his head on his paws. As soon as he spots the bowl in your hands he gets up, wagging his tail and mouth open wide in a smile as he trots up to you. This one is a boy whose fur is soft brown like a grizzly bear. There are no splurges of other colors on his fur. A different dog always rests its head on its paws as if waiting for you. You assumed it was a stray or a neighbor’s lost dog. Strangely, they’re only around for a day or two before disappearing under the moonlight. The last one stayed around for almost a week. You found bloody tracks of his paws leading into the forest. Maybe this one will survive longer. You name him Bear.

Bear follows, barking and yelping as you titter along the gravel driveway that joins paths with the neighboring houses, your looming shadow growing. The sun only rises higher in the sky. You swat away at the flies. Reaching the bottom of the pathway, you turn to a house and start walking towards it. Stomping up the weak wooden stairs that creak from years of bearing the heavy boots of hunting men, you knock at the door.

No answer. Your finger pauses over the doorbell, it had once been white but has been yellowed over the years with pollen and dust. It was disconnected a long time ago. You had wanted to see if your friend would come along.

You wrap your mother’s old church scarf around your head and hold it close to your mouth, breathing in the familiar scent of mother. As a kid, when you woke up to see the bedroom warmly lit with the sun’s morning rays and you turned you found the missing side where your mother should’ve been, did you not find comfort in smelling the essence of her on the bed sheets? It was the scent you sought since birth. As you grew older, did it continue bringing you comfort? Or was it more like a haunting feeling when you felt her near you, all around you and never leaving?

Bear nipped at your skirt flowing behind you, catching a single loose threat. You stop to look for the familiar store sign, you spot it across the road and with Bear following you walk towards it.

The store was near a field of corn and kept by its owner; Rick.

Good ol’ Rick hadn’t changed much since you first met him. He sat by the window on a wooden rocking chair, stroking his beard and smoking a pipe. He flashed a toothy grin as you walked by.

“Been a minute since yer been in ‘ere.”

You hummed, acknowledging his greeting as you made your way through the aisle shelves. The list your mother had given you was simple.

“Bring honey, milk and wine. Buy only the wine and honey from the store, go by Cherith’s and she’ll give you the milk.”

Your lips soundlessly repeated these instructions. You went towards the back of the store, where crates of produce sat on the ground. Crouching near one of the crates, your hand went to the pocket of your skirt and felt around for your pocket knife. Pulling it out, you took a moment to look it over with affection. Your thumb tracing the carved words on the wood face of it, words your father had engraved.

“Don’t forget where you came from”

When you thought of him, only fond memories came to the surface. His hands felt secure, his arms transmitting more warmth than your mother’s bosom. He was the one who taught you to catch small snakes without letting them bite, he taught you to spit like a man, taught you to aim and shoot, even left a hunting rifle in your name when he passed.

There was a specific memory that came to mind every so often, you must’ve been no older than starting school age. Both of you had just come back late from treading through the woods behind your house, your mother had been madder than a wet hen that time. She had dinner done and ready when she saw you come through the door trackin’ dirt and mud all over the porch and on the mat near the door. There was no peace as she reprimanded first you then your father. After dinner, your father shuffled outback and lit his pipe. He sat awhile, smoking and letting his gaze wander. Something that’s dangerous for any man to do.

You followed him out, not wanting to be in the vicinity of your mother. At the time, the greatest feat was mother, why she wore the pants in the house better than any man could. Your curious eyes drifted to your father’s form on his chair.

“How do you do it?”

He looked at you funny before he howled, slapping his thigh and all.

“Oh, there ain’t a thing in this world I haven’t been terrified to death of!” He exclaimed, picking you up and balancing you on his lap.

“I stay the way I am ‘cause it’s the only way I know. And ‘less my sense catches up to me, that’s how I’ll be. Always!”

At your silence, he quieted and cleared his throat. “Never forget where you hail from, you come from a happy people. Don’t forget where you get your name from nor who gave it to ye.” His finger pointed to you, widening his eyes and biting his lower lip as he did when he was putting on his ‘serious face’. Finally, when he couldn’t hold it anymore he laughed, softly. It was perhaps the softest he’s laughed, like letting a breath of relief out.

“Why, don’t you wanna be like me?”

It was perhaps the happiest you had ever been. Being content with how things are going now is just the result of giving up on showing disappointment at your dissatisfaction in life.

You used the knife to pry open the crate and pull out two bottles of wine. Rick only eyed the bottles as you set them on the counter, eyes glinting as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. He was the most laid back oldie that didn’t pay no mind to kids and their dallyings.

You checked out and left, finding Bear playing with some handsome stranger outside the store. Yeah, it’s Keegan alright. You hadn’t even noticed Bear didn’t follow you all the way inside the store.

“When you get a dog?” Keegan asked when he heard your footsteps nearing.

“Just found him.” The paper bag you’re holding crinkles as the two bottles of wine clink against one another, guess Rick didn’t individually wrap each one.

“You drinking?” Keegan straightened, eyes shooting to the bag in your hand, could probably see what was inside.

“No.” You answered defensively, twisting away from him as he leaned in closer.

He sighed, not his usual playfulness. This was what you disliked most. Him taking his cop role too seriously. It was like watching a kid play believe cops and robbers.

The brim of his cowboy hat shielding most of his face, his eyes barely visible but you guessed they showed disappointment. Everytime you met him, you swear he acted less like one of the townspeople and more like some authoritarian figure. Even though he was, you didn’t like how commanding he could be. Maybe you related that role more to bold mothers than loving fathers.

You could see his chest lower then rise as he breathed through his nose deeply, steadying himself for a good telling-off, probably.

“It’s not for me.” You blurted out before he could get another word out. He raised his head a bit, squinting at you. What were you even trying to prove?

The air was sucked of its previous charm, what could’ve been appealing was soon lost to another crappy day. You sighed.

“Messed it up again, didn’t I?”

“I’ll be leavin’. Ma will want me home soon.”

He nodded. “Want a ride?”

“No thanks.” You replied curtly. And left with Bear.

Cherith did have the milk ready, as if waiting for you. Mother could've told her to be expecting you today. You ought to have been on your way home, the milk would spoil soon under the heat. But as you were crossing the cornfields, the sun started to set, leaving a brisk air for you to enjoy. Autumn was making its entrance a welcoming one. The milk should be fine for a little longer.

Now usually, you wouldn’t cross the cornfields because it’s a bad habit Dave the owner didn’t like. But you have had it since you were young, besides what’s the harm? Every kid who grew up here had helped harvest the corn enough times to know the way in and out of the field.

A clearing was already in some parts of the field, some empty husks scattered about on the ground. You sat in the vast middle of it all and turned up towards the darkening sky. One by one, the stars in the sky became brighter, more noticeable to the eye. The sun had decided to let them glow for the time being. It’s as if everything slowed down, maybe sitting by to watch the exchange of positions in the sky. The creatures silenced and this time of day people barely spoke, too tired already to say much.

A stranger feeling started from the tips of your fingers until you felt it crawl deeper into the deeper parts of you. A melancholy washed over, seemingly born out of dusk. It’s as if your soul started to separate, take itself apart.

Numbness took over, and you barely felt yourself reach for the extra wine bottle you had bought. It would’ve been difficult to open if it weren’t for the corkscrew you didn’t buy but found in the bag. Rick must’ve thrown it in.

You were only curious about the taste. You sipped it and it felt strange. Was it good? You didn’t even know what you expected of the taste but it had you feeling relaxed quicker than two or three beer bottles could.

The changing environment stopped being so important and you didn’t notice the evening darkening into night. Something trembled the corn stalks nearest to you and you paid it no mind. Could’ve been Bear, those dogs sure loved to chase things down into the cornfields or the woods. The odd uneven time confused you even more as you started to remember the dream you had.

The water you had drifted on had cleansed you, until you had stained it with your blood. Blood that didn’t come from harm but flowed naturally from your body.

It was so strange; the world started to morph into a surreal dream where reality was shifting.

A sound came from behind and you turned to look over your shoulder at the strange shadows flickering past. A chill from the cooling night settled in, mixing with the warmness the wine provided. Something smelt like it was burning, heaps of husks or what? Something was out here with you. There in the dark, ruminating with you, surrounding you with ever thought you delved deeper into.

A soft breeze came over and you stood, swaying your arms and you could feel the tall corn stalks swaying alongside, caressing your arms.

Fall was coming and with it strange things. These ancient places had a way of breathing life that felt cryptic; from so long ago.

It had a way of settling there and not leaving, never forgiving anything that had been taken or left behind. Always reliving whatever deeds and making its debtors pay.

A crunch to your right followed by the softer sounding of something walking. Whatever it was… it was trying to find its way to you. You could hear the rustling of corn stalks not more than some feet away. Had you been in your senses you’d have stood up and gotten out of there, barely allowing the panic to build up in your chest before you’d be bolting out of there faster than a racehorse in the Kentucky derby.

But in this moment, a heavy weight was pushing you down, making you want to stay sitting on the dirt. Who knew the dirt was so comforting?

Your eyes tried to find the glowing eyes of the predatory animal that had most likely followed you out here, Bear should’ve been barking by now but he only seemed somewhat alert and sniffing the air.

Your vision was hazy, like the vignette filter on an old camera. The footsteps were less than ten feet away. You sprawled your hands out behind you, leaning back on them. Were you really fine dying out here?

Less than five feet and you hadn’t enough time to think anymore. The figure emerged from the corn stalks, standing still as it registered your form on the ground before it.

“Should’ve fucking known.” The words made you snap your head up; the swearing caused more alertness.

Keegan fucking Russ.

Chapter Text

Keegan’s striking grey blue eyes caught the reflection of the moonlight as he stared down at you, torn between forcing his authority down on you or just walking away blind from this one.

A strong breeze chilled the air and rustled the corn stalks, the crackling sound of their stalks as some broke and bent sounded almost as if bones were being broken; snapping in half. It wasn’t the comforting sound you were used to hearing on most summers, with fall nearing everything ought to sound, smell and look dead.

You both stilled, caught in this moment for what could be an eternity.

Keegan pushed away the last of the corn stalks and as he made his way to you, the silk and tassel of the corn grazed against his skin, giving him ‘chicken skin’. His eyes flickered to your side, he had spotted the bottle of wine and your glazed eyes and his hardened gaze seemed to soften some.

“You really are a handful, aren’t ya?” He sighed as he lowered himself to a sitting position beside you.

It seems he decided to go with the gentler alternative.

You barely hummed in response, not because you were still upset about earlier but because you didn’t care to bring any words up and out of your throat.

Keegan only glanced at you momentarily, noticing your drunk state as your eyes were unable to focus properly, yet through the blurry perspective you could see the stars in their fuzzy glow, seemingly encircled by halos. Out here, away from the pollution of the cities and their lights and the people and noise, you could see the stars shining bright and listen to nature’s soundtrack. You’ve always been taught to listen to what nature had to say, because she might be tryna tell you something.

More rustling of the corn stalks and the wind died down some, Bear stood sniffing a stalk and started staring into something in the corn field. Could be some mice or corn snakes, lots of those around here.

Your tongue already craved more of the wine, you gripped the neck of the bottle and brought it up to your lips again before Keegan’s hand reached out to stop you from tipping the bottom up.

“No you don’t,” he stopped you from drinking more and pried it out of your hands.

You protested but Keegan was firm.

“You drop that right now, I ain’t letting ye do this to yourself.” He examined what was left of the bottle. “How much did-”

A bark made your head turn to see Bear lower his head and practically bury his nose into the ground, sniffing intensely and barking again at having caught a scent. You pushed yourself up and tried balancing your body. Quickly, you lost your footing.

“Woah, there.” Keegan said, steadying you as he sat you back on the ground. He frowned as he examined your face, staring into your eyes.

He seemed to be a lot calmer than what he’d been when he emerged from the corn stalks. Maybe it was your melancholic state that kept him from shaking you out of your dense state and getting some sense into you.

Bear didn’t wait anymore, he surged forward and disappeared into the stalks, ignoring your calling after him.

“Leave him, he’ll come back. Dogs can’t resist chasing a scent.” Keegan said.

His hands on you felt foreign, too strange and a repulsive feeling crawling under your skin, sending pruritic sensations all up and down. You pushed his hands away.

His brow furrowed again and he opened his mouth, about to say something but contained himself.

And then you saw it, the pity in his eyes. How you hated the softness in them, even a crow would despise him at this moment. They’d pluck out his eyes not to eat but just to stop him from looking at them like that.

“Stop staring at me like that! I see right through it!” You shouted, covering your eyes with dirt stained hands.

“Come on, don’t say that darling…”

You felt your face growing hot, the tears already brimming and on the brink of spilling over.

He saw your trembling and he didn’t know what to do.

It was like watching an injured animal who had leaped and ran away from you, suddenly cornered and cowering under your gaze. The rabbit’s twitching of whiskers and beady eyes made you feel like the predator, the doe’s muzzle had picked up your scent and it was different from anything she’s ever known. He’s now seen you with your guard down and ready to cry, and he felt guilty, so guilty. It wasn’t a momentary feeling that came over and washed away later, it stemmed from within, somewhere in the depths of his soul it came to him like a dusted book cover that had been discovered and cracked open, revealing something gruesome in its worn yellow pages. But, he already knew about guilt, all there is to it. Is it possible to feel guilt over things you haven’t done? Sins you didn’t know were wrong. Day and night it seemed to loom over him, like a grave burden too heavy to bear. Was it possible to inherit guilt? How else could he explain this to the minister who would surely condemn him for dishonesty. As far as he knew, his father had a history of not following closely to the church, and the minister had warned him not to get tangled up in what his father had done. Keegan so desperately had wanted to prove his blood was clean; to be differentiated from his father.

He felt ready to recoil and shed his skin, out he would crawl from this predatory skin and you would see he was only full of good intentions. Maybe then you wouldn’t fear getting so close.

Seeing you closed off to him made him realize you’re still afraid of what’s unknown. You have curiosity and you’re afraid to explore it. His hand reached out to touch your shoulder before a growl was heard from a rustling in the cornstalks.

You both turned to see Bear emerging from the direction he had taken off, limping and crawling desperately towards you on his three little legs, whining. You gathered the poor little thing in your arms. Keegan was already at your side examining the wound. It was ugly and gaping but only on one of his hind legs, the other seemed fine. His upper thigh seemed to have been clawed open, the flesh showing. What got at him?

“C’mon, we’ve gotta get ‘em to my car.” Keegan reached to take the dog from you but you shook your head.

“I’ll carry him, you lead the way back.”

It was your dog after all so Keegan didn’t argue and he turned to find the trodden path. You followed him the way you came, it would be quick since you never got too deep into the field and both of you knew your way out. However, you took more turns and walked longer than you ought to have done. A cloud seemed to have drifted over the moon, preventing her light from shining the way out so Keegan had to pull out the flashlight he kept on his belt. When the click of the button sounded, the light spilled into a circle, spotlighting what you expected to be the path clear and obvious by the empty corn stalks that had been harvested already. Instead, you found no lead to follow. All around you were untouched husks, rising tall, obscuring your view.

“The hell-” The flashlight in Keegan’s hand was flickering and he slapped it hard against the palm of his hand until it illuminated properly. He swung it around, looking for the path you had come. It would have been an easy walk back but it seems you’ve been led astray. The light searches through the stalks for the path but the floor is covered with leaves and empty husks. A tassel tickles your ears when you turn your head as you too, attempt to find the path.

Keegan’s hand stilled when the flashlight caught the glint of something. There, between the stalks and leaves was a big brown eye frozen, unblinking in the beam of light. Lowering the flashlight, Keegan was tracing out the animal; long gracile legs, a brown body hidden behind the corn. An ear twitched when you took a step forward.

“It’s a deer.”

It wasn’t uncommon.

“Strange, would’ve heard us coming, or picked our scent up.”

Both you and Keegan stood motionless, staring at the deer and the deer back at you. Two strange things unexpectedly found each other.

Bear began to whine in your arms, burying his nose against you, seemingly wanting to hide away. The deer flared its nostrils, having picked up Bear’s scent.

“No way.” Keegan began to laugh, a low chuckle.

“What?”

He motioned to Bear with his head, careful not to make gestures to scare away the deer. “Your dog’s scared of deer.”

You huffed.

The deer snorted, pawing the ground with its leg, the hoof digging into the soil. Something ain’t right and the deer isn’t the only one to say so.

“I don’t feel right.” You say, hugging Bear closer to you.

“Wal, after that wine I wouldn’t think so either.”

You stepped closer to him and grabbed his arm as he continued to pay more attention to the deer.

“Oh, you’re serious.”

“Bear seems afraid of ‘im… and something ain’t right about that.”

Keegan took a step and so did you, still holding onto his arm. Upon coming closer, you realized the deer was taller than it looked, from so far it had seemed… somewhat docile just watching. The corn stalks around the deer only let you see so much of it but as it turned its head you saw it was a buck.

Keegan whistled.

“Wal, that’s a mighty fine buck right there.” And he stepped closer.

The buck seemed to raise its head, straightening and out from the corn stalks you saw the antlers. Instead of shiny, wood like bark on a tree, you saw peeling, red flesh hanging like skin from its antlers. Strips of it seemed to have been scraped off and were suspended, dangling over its head. Part of his antlers were still bloody, and you could see them above the corn stalks. This was no doubt a large one. This wasn’t a small corn field though. Corn stalks are usually about ten feet by now; whitetails are no more than three feet, even if it were a big-bodied buck there was no reason his antlers should be visible above all that corn.

Your nails dug into Keegan’s arms. Never have you seen such a large buck, even Keegan had to take a step back, marvelling at the big brown body before him as it rose.

“I don’t think that’s normal…”

The velvet shedding sure was a shocking sight to see around this time, but seeing the deer’s eyes shine green in the flashlight’s vicinity sure was something straight out of a horror flick.

Was this what Bear had been chasing? It was no wonder he came back hurt.

“We should go.” Your voice starting to waver. But neither of you moved.

The buck never once took its eyes off of you. Staring down as he went higher. Between the buck, the dog, Keegan and you, there seemed to be a staredown; each one waiting for the other to move first.

“How much taller can he get?” Keegan’s flashlight only aimed higher.

“I’m not finding out.” The chills weren’t only from the incoming fall weather and you hated the uneasiness this deer gave off.

You moved backwards slowly, away from Keegan who followed your lead. He kept the flashlight aimed at the buck, as if that were preventing it from moving. One way or another you’d reach the end of the field, leaving the buck to get swallowed up among the corn. The leaves seemed to curl at the ends and hold onto you as you walked past, you pulled away as you didn’t stop walking. You had to resist the urge to take faster steps, but you could already hear the buck snorting. Keegan kept listening for the cadence of the buck’s steps, and it seemed to be moving away.

Finally, you stepped out and felt the chilling air hit your skin as you left the embrace of the corn stalks. Keegan emerged right after you and sighed in relief, he bent forward a little, resting his hands on his knees. You took a deep breath as well, whatever you saw disturbed you, you might never get used to seeing deers shed their antlers, especially not up close.

Keegan led you to his car; he had brought the ford he used when on duty. You both got in and he turned on the engine, and started driving alongside the corn field. There wasn’t a proper road here, not on the side you came out from. The cornfields had two ways of getting in and out; properly. One was near the road where passerbyers remarked at the size of the field, the other was the one you came out of which was only a dusty trail used by the owner when harvesting.

The headlights illuminated ahead and as you settled into the car seat with Bear on your lap you realized you had missed something; the wine and honey.

You let out a gasp and Keegan spared you a momentary glance.

“What what?”

“The wine- I left it all back there.” You turned, looking out the window back at the field.

“If you’re expectin’ me to let you run back in there for that, you doggone lost your mind, doll.”

You didn’t respond, only turning the possibilities of what mother would do if you came back empty handed. You had been out all day, she wouldn’t let you off so easily.

Keegan kept on talking.

“Never seed a critter like that my ‘tire life. Not even out hunting. That buck couldn’t have grown antlers that reach past that corn.”

He paused to look at Bear.

“No wonder he was limping, buck must’ve gotten a good kickin’ at ‘im. Fer his leg to be slashed open and bleeding? Must’ve been one hell of a kickin’.” He kept repeating.

Bear shook underneath your touch.

“Tie a rag ‘round his leg, that oughta do it.”

He turned onto a smaller path and continued uphill until he stopped right up close to the porch steps and turned off the engine.

“What’re you doing?”

“Goin’ to talk to your mother. Can’t have yer runnin’ about alone anymore.”

“No-”

He got out, slammed the car door loud enough for your mother to hear and the porch light to turn on, signaling she’d be coming out. You panicked and quickly got out too.

“Keegan. You can’t tell her.”

He sighed.

“Yer just seem suspicious lately, is all. Too many times I seen you out alone doin’ no good.” Obviously talking about your drinking “problem”.

“I won’t do it again.”

“Yeah, I can’t count on you for nothin’ in the world. What else am I supposed to do? I can’t be fishin’ you out of every situation. You worry me.”

“But not in front of her! Can we talk about this later?”

The screen porch opened as your mother peered out, a scarf tied around her head, likely had been doing her nightly Bible reading or praying.

“Ma’am.” Keegan addressed her.

Your mother only nodded as her eyes drifted behind Keegan to see you coming up the porch stairs behind him. She briefly noticed the wounded dog in your arms before meeting your eyes with a stern look in hers.

“Ya late.” Was all she said, not exactly raising her voice but more of a remark.

“That’s what I’m here for ma’am.” Keegan responded before you could. She finally took her eyes off of you and focused on him for now. You held your breath.

“Found her as I was driving back. Figured she’d take longer on foot, so I offered to drive her back. She seemed shaken.. Dog got hurt.” He managed to cover for you without going into detail.

That’s a relief.

“Sorry ma.” You mumbled pathetically, lowering your head.

“That’s fine. Thank you, officer.” You couldn’t believe the strange words coming out of her mouth. Her voice was neutral; strangely calm.

They both said goodnight and Keegan’s eyes met yours as he turned to walk back to his car.

“Behave yourself.” He seemed to say.

Mother ushered you inside and you didn’t stop for a second after setting foot inside until you reached your room. Placing Bear on an old, but comfortable pillow to rest on you kneeled on the floor.

You could feel her presence in the doorway.

“Twice.”

You turned to see her standing there, arms crossed, corners of her lips downturned as she stared down at you.

“Twice that boy comes to drop you off.”

“He’s not a boy…” You know how she meant it.

“Jes’ cuz he a cop ain’t mean he a man. Done nothin’ for us yet.” Her eyes looked around the room.

You had to bite your tongue real hard to keep from telling her how he saved you tonight. God knows what could’ve happened had he not found you when you were drinking in the field with an animal like that in there.

“Don’t you go runnin’ around with him no more, ya hear?” She redirected her gaze towards you. “I don’t wanna hear you getting knocked up. A shame of me you’ll make.”

You scoffed, whipping towards her to give her a look.

“Don’t gimme that look.” She raised her hand, threatening to strike.

“I’m done being real patient with you. You ain’t bring what I told you to. Git to bed already, I’m taking you to church with me tomorrow. Ought to have you busy now, the Devil’s always seekin’ to make us sin.”

She turned and closed your door, leaving you kneeling on the floor of your bedroom with a dying dog.

You crawled under the comforter and stared up at the wooden ceiling. Your granddaddy had built this cabin when he came to live here, passed it on your mother despite there being three other sons. They had all moved out further west or built their own homes. The cabin had remained unused and wasn’t until your father’s passing that your mother moved here with you. Your childhood home had been abandoned; something about mold growing in the attic of that house.

You brought the blanket up to cover your face, your hot breaths warming your face in this little enclosed space.

Tomorrow there were preparations for a wedding to be made. A girl not much older than you was to marry and for the first time, you’d see how the women honored it, apparently that had a special ritual of its own.

And while you slept that night, somewhere not too far away, on a road not that long, there in the corn field; the buck’s head rose above the rows of stalks under the silver moon.

Chapter Text

"As a servant of the Lord, I…"

You sat, trying to keep your eyes fixed on the minister. Your eyelids felt heavy, there seemed to be two ministers as you blinked several times. Yet, there was only one voice, loud and authoritative as it was heard in the church. Pinching your arm between two fingers, your eyes flew open, and there was only one minister. You adjusted in the bench, repositioning so you weren't slumping anymore. But your head kept drooping, your eyelids heavy as you felt the hot air suffocating you.

It was unbearably hot.

Murmurs arose from the far end of the room. You turned to see Keegan slipping in through the doors and make his way up to the front pews. Everyone turned to look in his direction because he rarely came. No one really said anything about it to him, he was always using the pretext of work. But given his father's history, it wasn't unusual per se.

The minister stopped his sermon momentarily, his eyes following Keegan who kept his head down as he walked past all the members and sat at the very front, only then did he raise his head. The minister blinked but continued speaking.

Your eyelids no longer felt heavy as you stared at him.

As Keegan settled into the front pew, he finally felt like he could manage to look up at the minister. He wasn't about to cower in front of him, he had deliberately walked in late and made his way to the front. That'd show him, it would show them all.

The minister only watched him for a moment before his eyes flickered back to the crowd. Keegan sighed and once again asked himself the same question that appeared in his mind every damn time he walked into church. What was he doing here? His father never had instilled the habit in him, if it weren't for his stepmother he might have never stepped foot into church. He remembered that woman even managed to get his father to go a few times as well. After she passed, neither Keegan nor his father were forced to go anymore, only his sister had kept up the habit.

His sister. Right, she must be here somewhere. Keegan slowly turned his head sideways a little, first to the right and then to the left. But in his limited view he could not catch glimpse of that golden, soft hair.

"For the creation was subjected to futility, not by its own will, but through the one who subjected it, on the basis of hope that the creation itself will also be set free from enslavement to corruption…"

You listened to the minister clearly now.

"…and have the glorious freedom of the children of God." A whispering beside you, the words falling softly from your mother's lips as she had memorized.

From your slouched position, you turned and from under your hair, you looked at the attentive face of your mother. She seemed to be completely immersed in the sermon.

The minister paused, his brow furrowing as he looked up from what he was reading and into the faces of those in the pews. Keegan noticed he avoided looking directly at him, his eyes wandering over to the other members.

"We know that earthly creation has been subjected to suffering. To chasing what is futile. But it has been subjected to this, 'not by its own will'. Then by whom?"

You turn around to see a few of the people have raised their hands. The minister locks eyes with someone, nods his head and grants them permission to speak.

"Satan" They say confidently, laced with distaste on their tongue.

Plenty among the crowd agreed.

Someone else speaks out.

"Adam"

The first man, and there follows another round of hums in approval.

The minister thanks everyone for their input before giving an answer. But he doesn't agree with neither of the two who spoke.

"This expression does not refer to neither Satan nor to Adam."

Confusion stops the congregation from talking, they stop and wait. Their necks craned, eagerly awaiting for the minister to continue.

The pause extends and the minister seems to be enjoying it; skin pulling tight around his mouth as he smiles with closed lips as if harboring a secret.

"It refers to God." And he lets the words hang in the air as some turn their heads to look to one another in surprise.

You turn to mother and she looks down at her lap, smiling as if she knew all along.

"Your reasoning wasn't very far off. Satan did introduce lie to Eve and Adam, who then sinned. But it was God who mercifully allowed them to reproduce. Thus, knowingly subjecting creation to futility."

Keegan had long been lost in this sermon. He knew the minister liked to play tricks. He remembered how when his father had just remarried, Keegan had come home to see the minister sitting at the kitchen table, entertaining his stepmother with these verses and their meanings. He wondered if that was what had bothered his father enough to stay far away from the church even before her death. It had certainly bothered Keegan enough as a child to fall away too. It just hadn't felt right.

He still remembered how upset his stepmother had been. She had tried taking him in, under her wing, and it had been alright at first. He embraced her, sought that comfort he so desperately needed. She was Spanish, and heavily devoted to God. Perhaps, the first mistake of hers was settling in with a man who lived in a town with only one church and assuming it'd be like her religion back in her homeland. The false sense of security she felt when she fit right in like a puzzle piece had kept her tethered long enough despite the odd things that had rubbed her wrong. It was only a matter of time before she broke, if she did not bend, she was to be broken in. And sooner or later, did she find herself covered up in dirt as they buried her cold body. The sickness had been sudden, like a blackened cloud of dust following over her like a halo. Her usually bright complexion dulled, her eyes empty as the life spilled from her lips with the last breath of existence.

Catalina, Keegan's younger sister, had cried so much then. His father had remained shut in his room for days and Keegan had been left to deal with the aftermath himself, like the man he was taught to be. They had an aunt, his father's sister, with whom Catalina went to live with afterwards. There was no reason a little lady like her ought to stay in a house with only men, it wouldn't be proper, according to that same aunt. The truth was that their father could hardly look at Catalina, the spitting image of her mother, with her light hair and eyes; golden almost when the sun shone down on her.

"In the end, they exchanged the truth of God for the lie and venerated and rendered sacred service to the creation rather than to the Creator, who is praised forever. Amen…"

The minister's voice pierced through his thoughts again, followed by the silent agreement of the rest of the congregation. Right, it was reaffirmation he came for. Every time an unexplainable evil happened in Keegan's life, he limped into church like a wounded dog. It was the only comfort he was taught to seek.

He tended to ignore his nightmares, as they were only internal struggles and nothing that could hurt him as long as it wasn't reality. But after that deeply disturbing image of the deer was embedded in his mind, he just couldn't shake of the foreboding feeling growing within him. Feeling an intense feeling of dread, Keegan abruptly stood. You watched as he left the same way he entered, silent and with his head down, but now with a fleetness in his step.

He brushed past the hands of the members who attempted to reach out and graze his shoulder, and Keegan felt no warmth from their hands, instead he shivered. He was gone before a single word could leave their lips. You had followed his back until the doors closed behind him, and when you turn to see the minister's reaction, a sardonic smile as if it were no surprise to him.

You felt inclined to follow, forever wanting to be in his shadow. Bouncing your leg, you were barely able to contain yourself as you were about to spring up after him before a cold hand came to firmly grasp your wrist. You gasped at the contrast of temperature of her hand to the trapped hot air inside the church.

"Nearin' the hour, hm?" She stood up, motioning for you to follow.

"For what?"

A frown was quick to show on her face. "Where's your head, girl?"

No answer left your lips as you turned to stare longingly at the door again.

"You leave that boy alone. He's made his decision, and hopefully you have made up that sensible mind of yours and chosen what is right."

Her words silenced you, and you only returned a gaze as she turned away, silently following her to the front.

You noticed the men taking their leave, even the minister slipped away behind a door. You hadn't seen it before, but with only the women, you noticed they all wore white dresses. It looked like a gathering of the angels. Among the women, who were mostly around your mothers age or older, only two were your age.

Valerie was the girl you were all gathered for today, she was the one to marry soon. Her long and uncut dark brown hair was loose, shiny and mostly straight with slight waves made by sleeping in braids the night prior. She was at the center; surrounded by all the women. Her glowing face, beaming at the attention she was receiving, as flowers were placed in her hair. She stood at the head of a table filled to the brim with food; grapes and vines twisted around plates of fruit, pitchers of milk and honey, wine served in glasses, all surrounding a platter of meat.

Catalina was the other girl your age, and she stood beside you as you gaped at the large layout.

"Seems fit fer a king's feast!" Remarked Catalina next to you.

Was this why your mother had sent you on an errand run recently? You knew the preparations were always made by the women beforehand, but never did you expect it to be so… grand. There was a special way of doing them around here. You hadn't much knowledge of the exact details, but you knew there was a gathering of the women beforehand, blessed by the minister, and then another after the couple was officiated. The wedding ceremony was the one the entire community attended, while the pre and post rites were exclusive to the women.

A short prayer was made and everyone waited for Valerie, crowned with flowers, to reach out first. She reached out, then drew her hand close to her chest, she bit her lip, keeping the smile that had adorned her lovely face from getting any bigger. She reached out again, having decided what to pick first, before a hand stopped her. Valerie looked up in confusion, but a gentle smile let her know she had done nothing wrong.

"Now, hold on, dear." A sweet motherly voice instructed her. The pitcher was lifted and honey poured out onto the meat. Everyone watched as the honey dripped onto the meat. The pitcher was placed on the table and then Valerie was given the nod of approval to reach out. She took the first bite of a meat, honey coated her lips, sticky and making it hard to chew. Someone else handed her milk in a beautiful ivory cup, she took it and greedily drank to help her wash down the food.

You and Valerie leaned in closer to watch, and upon seeing the cup closer, you noticed there were strange carvings on it. At first glance it could have easily been dismissed as there were carvings of vines, twisting with thorns and bearing fruit. These vines twisted around two humans, one was portrayed with longer hair, which could easily be assumed to be a woman and the taller one, a man. The carving portrayed an erotic scene; both were depicted as naked, the woman was on her knees and her body was mostly covered by her long hair, the man was standing straight with nothing to cover him. The phallus was the most detailed in the carving and the woman's position indicated she was worshipping the male in some way.

Valerie set the cup down, a few drops of milk falling from her lips. She wiped it with the back of her hand and looked around at everyone. Silence hung in the air for a few moments before she burst out laughing. Her body convulsed as she barely contained herself. The women seemed to let out a sigh of relief as they too, let loose. Afterwards, mirth reigned the room as everyone indulged in eating and drinking.

Your eyes roamed around the room as you silently ate from the fruit, pomegranate seeds bursting in your mouth. Valerie was drunk on attention, Catalina was delighted by the quality of the food to see, and the elder women were not aware of the indecent scene. Not even your mother, who was so adamant to not touching what was considered 'impure'.

The table emptied rather quickly. Two women, their hair grey with age took Valerie by her arms and led her to sit at the front pew. The rest followed, leaving the table of food to sit behind them.

The minister suddenly emerged, from behind the same wooden door he had disappeared into. He greeted the congregation of angels as he looked down at us from the pulpit.

"Today, I speak to you all as if you were still virgins. On this day, you are reborn as pure as when you came out of your mothers' wombs. I will thoroughly cleanse you from error and sin."

A pause to ensure all eyes were on him. He had everyone's attention.

"From the day you became a bud, you did not allow yourself to be touched, you have hidden yourself through the fabrics of your skirts. Covering your shoulders and chests as to avoid the horrible sin of fornication. You have beat the devil in his evil ways, not permitting lust nor desire burn a mark on your body. You have proven yourself to be above the temptations of the flesh.

Do you know, virgin, that the more you give, the greater your reward will be?"

You grimaced hearing his words, and lowered your head. If he were to make eye contact with you, you wouldn't be able to maintain it.

"Like a circle, you are boundless, you are the beginning and the end. As you are blooming, you will learn to purify yourself for your husband only. Learn to pray for his long life, to be prosperous. You have done this today when you poured the milk over the meat. The bull, which you have eaten from today, is a symbol of fertility. He was decorated with grapes and vines, and made offerings of flowers, fruit, milk, honey and wine. You partook in it when you ate from his table, now, you will be blessed."

"Offerings?" You raised your head, eyes scrutinizing the minister as the words struck you. Then, that would have meant you rendered service to something other than the only one to whom it should belong to.

"Clasp the symbols of the sun and moon close to your chest. Kiss the cross with frenzy, and pray, that you, like the flowers you have been adorned with, will become fruitful and prosperous!"

The minister concluded with a grand gesture, as if he had been putting on an act, and without giving another glance towards the congregation, he closed his book and immediately stepped down from the pulpit to hide away behind the door again.

Your eyebrows furrowed, your upper lip pulled up in revulsion at the horror that sermon was. Catalina, who sat next to you, was wide-eyed in shock.

A cry broke out; guttural and hoarse. You traced it to the front, where Valerie sat, appalled and in tears, crying into the shoulder of one of the women, who tried her best, to comfort her by petting her head. But she only buried her face further into the woman's neck.

Chapter Text

Keegan stood on the hill, watching the sun go down, her flames setting everything in a golden haze. Tree branches still full with leaves glimmered and shone like a handful of glistening gold as the sun shone upon them. From here, he could see the vast expansion of his world; pine trees as far as the eye could see. He had grown up here, yet every time he paused to gaze down upon it all; he still felt an unfamiliar sense of growing unease. Things that seemed strange and out of place happened all the time.

Since he was young he had been told to mind his business when he poked his nose in places he shouldn't have. The creeping sentiment that the scenery shifted with the changing of seasons grew with every passing year.

"Jus' focus on ye work, pay no mind to anything outside of what you gots to do."

Time and time again, it was all he was ever told to do. It was his duty to protect this town and its residents. But the first mistake he made was assuming the dangers weren't from within.

He started walking downhill in the direction of his house, a wood-burning smell reached him. He looked up to see smoke rising from among the trees, straight where he was headed. The wind carried it, the black smoke rising high. The image of his father surfaced; he was sickly and in bed, could barely move.

Keegan ran.

He stumbled through the roots and branches strewn on the forest floor, yet he didn't lose his way. He passed the cornfield, feeling an intense and heavy dread as he neared it. It would be quicker to run through it instead of rounding it, but his feet avoided turning into it.

He kept running, unaware of the big, brown eyes lost in the stalks.

He reached his porch and flew up the steps, bursting in through the door.

Upon passing the threshold he noticed the unusual darkness, shadows seemed to overtake every corner, taking over the room. The humming of insects stopped.
The air seemed to feel muggy, as if trying to breathe after a heavy summer rain. He walked into the darkness, the door disappearing after he walked in. The room felt empty, his hands couldn’t find the doorknob again. He continued on like a blind man, his arms outstretched before him.

Then, there was the smell of something rotting. The forlorn feeling of a foreboding storm in the air as he stumbled forward, attempting to grasp at the little whispers of light he envisioned. He tried navigating around his home like he had memorized, but no hall seemed familiar. Sensing movement next to him he turned but couldn’t make out anything. The window blinds were down, keeping the moonlight from illuminating the wooden floor.
Slowly, he came to feel the impending sense of fear that there was a pressure suffocating him, cutting him off from any other form of escape; he had no choice but to continue walking forward. Feeling the walls closing in, he closed his eyes to avoid seeing shadows taking form in the darkness.

He could hear gasping and he opened his eyes again. He was standing in the doorway of his father’s bedroom. The walls cast long shadows, a yellow light flickering in the oil lamp. The shadows congregated around the body of his father, his legs thrashing as he stared wide eyed at the ceiling as he convulsed. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the bedsheets, and Keegan could only stare. It was like watching the prey struggle in the clamps of a bear trap. He felt initial shock but he didn’t lunge to save his father’s life. The pungent smell of decaying flesh filled the small, cramped room. Maybe the old bastard would finally rest.
His father turned his head and through the bodies of the shadows he saw Keegan, at whom he stared at with disdain.
The body stilled, and Keegan couldn’t tear his eyes away from the hold his father’s stare held him in.
He felt the urge to step forward, and so he took hesitant steps towards the bed. The congregation of shadows parted, granting him access to the body. A loaf of bread rested on a ring of salt upon the chest of his father’s cold, pale body. It was as if his father had long been dead. Taking it, he held the bread between his hands. It was warm, soft to the touch with a pleasant aroma. He glanced at his father and then back at the round bread. He didn't understand why it was there but there was a pit in his stomach, something gnawing at his insides. He sunk his teeth into the bread, warmth filled his mouth but when he pulled away; blood oozed out of the bread. He couldn't swallow it. And so it dripped down his chin and spilled onto the floor.

As Keegan stood, gaping as he let the blood pool around his feet, he heard a murmur, a faint whisper.

"My life is consumed by grief,

And my years with groaning.

My strength is waning because of my error;

My bones grow weak."

The windows were boarded and no light seeped in as he kneeled to the ground, clutching his chest as he, too, started choking and convulsing. He was involuntarily swallowing the blood. Despite the trembling in his hands, he managed to bring them close to his neck as he clawed at it. Gagging and coughing, he tried to spit the blood out. But it was as if his body was going against his mind, he swallowed more of it.

There was a heavy, dreadful sound that made him want to be deaf. It was the creaking of the floorboards beneath him. They screeched as if they would give away. Eventually his knees plunged through them and he felt himself falling deeper into despair and darkness.

Keegan awoke with a start. His body had jarred him awake. The fear had paralyzed him and he was lying on the forest floor. The sun was setting, but her charm had gone; cold air settled in the woods.

He had gone to church, he didn't understand why he was still having these nightmares. Hadn't his mother's devotion been enough? He knew his father hadn't exactly cozied up to the minister like his mother had… but surely, his father's recklessness had been forgiven? The only one who seemed to be exempt from this was Catalina. The men in his family had been proven to be nothing more but instigators.

The screech of the door hinges mixed with the wailing cries of Valerie. The door was closed and you were left in the dark; the sun already going down.

Catalina, silent at your side, kept staring at the ground between her feet. Your eyes saw the dark clouds rolling out, covering over the last tints of orange and pink the sun had left behind.

You began walking, not entirely sure where you were going. After walking a few feet you heard Catalina follow. There was a dark swirling of thoughts inside your mind, how far you wanted to go in was unclear for the time being.

Between yesterday night and today; a sort of fever had come over you, your head felt warm, your legs weak ever since you stepped out of that cornfield. You hadn't run from the deer, just like how you hadn't run from the cries of Valerie nor the unpleasant things you sat through. In both situations, you had tensed, your muscles screaming for you to run but you had made no sound. You weren't numb, the desperation surging, flaring up at the moment that it made your skin itch.

You thought of it now, but it had passed and there was nothing left except the lingering, haunting thoughts. You weren't ready, especially not when everyone around you kept behaving like this was the norm. Had it always been so?

The air was muggy, recent rain had not made the weather cooler as you had expected, instead it made the following days a misery; the sun and the rain would work hand in hand to make every day as humid and hot as possible. And it wore you out.

Somehow, it was as if the temperature had an effect. But that's one of the horrors of living in the south. The weather makes it hell enough.

There was bound to be a full moon soon. It was what you had been looking forward to recently, you felt an indescribable pull to observe the lunation. You looked up, the moon no where in sight.

Catalina and you walked idly.

Time passed and Keegan lay far, deep in the darkened forest. He muttered these words under his breath:

"My life is consumed by grief,

And my years with groaning.

My strength is waning because of my error;

My bones grow weak."

It was said in his father's voice, but he knew that bastard was well and alive at home. Which is why he didn't immediately make his way there as soon as he woke up. Instead he stayed here, going over it.

In his dream he had run like a madman, but when he woke up he was lying somewhere in the woods. His breath had been unsteady then too, breathing come in hard as if he had exhausted himself by simply dreaming.

It wasn't the first time he had nightmares like this, but never had it gone to this extreme. It had disturbed him to remember all the details so vividly. And he could still smell the blood and felt the metallic taste on his tongue.

These dreams used to do more than just scare him, they had him living on edge; paranoid. They made him afraid to sleep, which is why he had taken over night duty when he first started working alongside the chief.

Most of his dreams mirrored reality, and he feared diving deep into one… going too far in and never waking up again. He sometimes wrote what they could mean, he kept the journal in a drawer in his room. The journal was old, his stepmother had given it to him as a gift shortly before she died. Keegan thought of it as a parting gift, even if at the time that wasn't the intention she had given it to him with.

His father hadn't been the best, he was unusually strict with certain things. Keegan didn't know much about his father's past. Currently, his father was coming down with some sickness. And Keegan wondered if his father would pass the same way as his stepmother had.

Perhaps, his father had regrets in life. But that wouldn't explain the second half of the dream. Why he had to bite and swallow even as he choked and coughed, blood staining his hands and clothes.

His fathers blood… was his own. No matter how much he could deny it. Don't you ever hate your own kind?

Keegan continued exploring these thoughts, despite not getting much out of it. He still didn't fully understand what this meant for him. He took care of not sinking too deeply but going in enough to keep him from focusing on the eerie feeling the forest was giving him. Every few minutes he'd hush his brain to allow a moment to listen if there was noise. Bugs or birds, anything, as long as there was noise it was fine. He just knew it.

Not that he was afraid of the dark but you know what they say to do if suddenly nature goes silent; get the hell out. Nature is never supposed to be quiet.

And that night when they had been at the corn stalks… the deer had snorted once or twice while it was.. normal? But while it was staring them down, it seemed human almost. The gestures it made. Just remembering how it kept elongating and even slightly tilting its head at a certain angle made Keegan shiver. He felt cold.

The nights were starting to get cooler. While the sun made sure to make up for it the next day.

He heard a twig snap somewhere.

Deciding he'd been out here long enough and not wanting to overstay his welcome, he picked himself up, dusted off and set to going to his aunt's place figuring he ought to pay his sister a visit.

Chapter Text

What is innocence? Is it the same as being naive, gullible or downright ignorant? Or is it having knowledge to a certain extent but restraining from pondering more than one should about certain topics that are deemed taboo?

The veil between innocence and impurity was never lifted; given only glimpses through a perspective as unclear as this made it easy to twist the truth. There was doing things with malicious intent, but there was also a sort of innocence that was raw and insensitive in a way. Like the way a child may be set on getting their way without knowing how harmful it could be. Adults become frustrated easily that way, but the children know no better.

What you and Catalina saw felt forbidden to witness, yet the women were all there and the minister wasn't condemning it. What made it okay for unmarried girls such as you and Catalina to see a ritual made only for brides and married women?

Lately, not only nature but traditions you followed seemed uncanny. Before you had no problem following anything the adults said, but now you're starting to feel like the only people you could turn to for security were becoming unreasonable. Their beliefs were never to be questioned. And are you in any position to defy them?

What a terrible thing to experience while you're still young. Did you ever place complete faith in your parents as a child only for the truth to hit you square in the chest and knock you out cold? Do you still cling pathetically to your mother's skirt and kneel at your father's feet hoping for that hand to be warm and loving again?

Coming deep within the cracks of Keegan's soul was a darkness; a murky and inky substance. He felt it every morning he woke up, that black ink that seemed to perforate and seep into his lungs. When he heaved; as his chest rose and fell, he felt his chest caving in. It took some time from the moment he crawled out of bed until he was gripping the sink, knuckles white as water droplets ran down his face, for the pain to go away.

Sometimes he'd pound his chest with his fists and with every cough he would remember the horrifying gasping sound his father made. He was afraid one day he would see blood stains around his mouth. Brushing his teeth up to three times in one morning after he had a terrible nightmare. It was horrific the way he remembered it all.

It always took place in the woods; a long path and an unquenchable thirst. Saliva did nothing to moisten his dry throat. Then, he would hear a trickle of water; a steam nearby. He would rush to it and plunge, hoping to swallow mouthfuls of that fresh, cool water. It didn't matter if he got a headache from his hasty movements or the sudden freezing water; he would dig his fingers into the soft dirt to steady himself. The water was light and refreshing but in an instant it would taste warm and metallic. Keegan panicked when this happened because he knew what happened next.

He would try to spit it out. Even if it hurt he would tear his throat apart with how his fingers, dirt underneath fingernails and all, would dig into the back of his mouth to scoop it all out. It was torture how desperate he felt when his fingers trembled too much and he couldn't open his mouth wide enough. The blood would start sticking to the roof of his mouth, the sides of his throat and it would suffocate him.

Thrashing around wildly like an animal in pain, he would grab at leaves, sticks, anything within his grasp hoping he would find a human hand among it all to help him. He hated being alone in dreams. There was never anyone, and it was cruel. Sometimes, if the dream lasted long enough, he could hear the amplified sound of his sister's laughter. Even if he could've, he always chose not to call out to her. Imagine how disgusted she would feel if he got blood on her.

…That was just one of many nightmares he had. But these two seemed to be the worst of them.

He remembered once telling his stepmother about them, back when he was still open to receiving help. Her advice was to leave the Bible open on his nightstand when he went to bed. He never had to heart to tell her he lost his personal one, so he kept quiet about his recurring nightmares even when they felt unbearable.

It was dark when he neared the house.

It was that time of year when on mornings you'd see a fog in the early hours of the morning, before it disappeared as if it had never been. The sun would then allow for two hours of pleasant shine before becoming fervid. Fall was nearing quite close, and you knew Catalina observed this in nature. Ever since she was young she frolicked about the world like a young filly. Although quiet; she wasn't afraid of being loud when joy filled her heart. It was what you liked best about her. She was of a completely different breed, unlike Keegan who was fated to take after his father's grim and serious mood.

She seemed to be made up of only good things; innocence, devotion, obedience, virtue, purity… she was saintlike.

Teachers, parents… any adult worked hard year after year with every son and daughter in hopes of cultivating and one day reaping the rewards of having raised a good and obedient child. It was one thing to develop good character, but completely another to break a young child's bones until they were soft bloody flesh, ready to mold beneath the hand of a skilled potter. Children need discipline in the form of love… what is that verse?

"Whoever holds back his rod hates his son, But the one who loves him disciplines him diligently."

The rod; a method of correction that when administered with love gives fruit to a child you'll never be ashamed of. But some seemed to reckon that the rod was to be used without limits, with full force they would shoot down their children to then pose them any way they liked and display them. This often made children violent, sinking their teeth into whatever little freedom they were given. So often, they appeared as docile as deer on the outside, but take a closer look and see that their teeth are bare and sharp like any wolf, dog or coyote. And when have you ever seen a deer with canine teeth? They snarl and turn vicious and lose their nature. It is abnormal to be righteous in all things but lose control the moment they indulge in little, sinful pleasures.

You've gone off the rails. Your simple comparison of Catalina and Keegan made you question things.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you felt an arm brush against yours. You shivered before realizing it was Catalina walking past you and up the steps to her aunt's small house.

Catalina's aunt barely greeted y'all before she was already spitting out chores for Catalina to finish before she could sit down.

"Chickens still ain't locked up. Laundry hangin' out."

She paused. She registered you next to Catalina.

"Dinner's near done."

Nodding, Catalina went right out the backdoor into the dark. Pulling up a chair you sat down to observe her aunt as she put away the last of the dishes that had been drying out on the rack.

You wanted to ask if there was anything you could do but Catalina's aunt and you were past that first-meet politeness. There was an old familiarity between you both, although you can't remember when it was formed if the oldest memory you had of her was when he came to collect Catalina when her mother passed. You also never remembered her name.

Your head felt warm, so you leaned back into the chair. For a moment, it felt good to leave your dirty and muddied shoes by the door, to get out of that night air that had started feeling suffocating as of recently.

Your eyesight blurred, and you decided to close your eyes for a little bit.

You don't know how but in that split moment you fell asleep you had a dream. Catalina had stepped out to lock the chicken coop. Under the swirl of night sky and shining stars there was a gust of wind. The kind that made the tall limbs of trees move eerily. Suddenly, it was as if everything was black and white only, like drawing with white chalk on a blackboard.

Catalina shivered, wishing she had a coat or shawl. She felt skittish, like a deer. She neared the end of her aunt's property where the chicken coop sat. Hearing something stir, she turned to see a group of deer. They were crowded together, two smaller ones behind a bigger doe who stepped closer. While the two smaller does lowered their necks to continue searching among the early autumn leaves for food, the bigger doe did not shy away. Catalina could tell it was not curiosity that made the doe take such surefooted steps.

Catalina backed into the chicken coop, closing the door. The doe did not stop. She came real close, her nose pressing into the chicken wire as she sniffed. It was dark, but the doe was close enough that Catalina could see teeth gleaming in the moonlight. She couldn't have mistaken this for another animal now. The eyes that dug into her own were big and glassy.

"What are you?" She whispered softly.

That seemed to break the spell, the deer screamed and the sound seemed to set off the other two as the three does turned and took off running. Catalina had flinched so hard her finger cut on the chicken wire. She barely gasped as she stood there. The scream had filled the night air and left a deafening silence once the deer were out of view.

If Keegan had been here he would've laughed at her. Catalina was sure of it. He hunted so often he'd probably heard plenty of deer scream, Catalina on the other hand could never get used to it. It came so unexpected and hung around like an unpleasant sensation.

She was quick to run back into the house after stepping out of the chicken coop.

Chapter Text

Jaws snapping shut, desperate to clamp onto prey. Teeth sinking into flesh and ripping it apart as hooves pounded on soft meat.

Alone and scared, not a single cry for help is heard.

Never can you forget those yellow eyes staring into you. Deer are supposed to be gentle, never would one imagine the violence they're capable of. Those delicate, gracile legs turn horrifying the moment they sprint, leaping through the air as you attempt to get away from them.

You curse the autumn leaves crunching under your feet. Deer hear everything, don't they?

You curse the naked trees, their once full branches failing to grant you protection.

You curse the full moon tonight, the light filters through everything.

You curse your tired body for not letting you go on. You have more than enough reason to keep running but you just can't.

You curse your family for not warning you.

Your eyes sting with tears as you trip, fall forward and catch a mouthful of earth.

"For dust you are and to dust you will return."

The screen door slamming open startled you. You had been falling asleep while still sitting in the kitchen.

Catalina runs in, cheeks flushed and smiling. She grabs you by your shoulders, pressing up real close to you.

"Why! You ought to catch some rest. Ye nearly toppled over."

You really can't figure her out when she's in a frenzy, that plus your current state doesn't leave you with much resolve anyways. You're at her mercy as she pulls you up.

Your body moves on its own as you're taken up the stairs, you don't even fuss when she pushes you onto her bed. You let her take your shoes off and pull the covers over you.

You barely mumble back a 'Night' when she turns off the light on her way out.

And you certainly don't hear the rasping at the door only moments later.

Keegan walks up the weathered boards of the porch and knocks.

He hangs his head, feeling the pounding sensation subsiding some. He knocks again. Tilting his head back he considers going in through the back but decides against it.

Soon enough his aunt opens the door, she takes one look at him, looking at him no different as if he were a stray dog turning up to ask for scraps and lets him in. Not out of pity, out of obligation because this is her brother's son. Keegan knows she's always favored Catalina over him.

They don't get to exchange pleasantries, it's useless after all.

He's here for Catalina.

"She's in the kitchen." His aunt mentions as she passes by him and disappears through a door. He knows she's probably off to see her favorite soap drama she can't stop watching every night even though it's been years since it ended.

He's surprised to walk in to find Catalina staring out the window, motionless. And he gets the idea to prank her, scaring her like he always does except he holds back, not much energy for horsing around.

He keeps a few feet away from her and gazes out the window, or at least tries to. But with the light on he can only see her face reflected on the glass. She's stoic, still as a deer. Her eyes moves and meet his.

And this here he thought was strange;

he thought it was the old light bulb that was making her eyes appear yellow. But when Catalina turns around to stare at him head on, he catches the color of the iris before it dims. He's always quick with his observations, his eyes proving to be his most useful from years of hunting.

If there's anyone who knew better than to try fooling Keegan P. Russ it was his half sister Catalina. But she's not who came asking for benevolence tonight.

"I'll be real honest with you," he began, "I ain't faring so well."

"And why's that?" Catalina asked, sensing what her brother was getting at.

"Why? Wal it ain't nothing new, you know that!"

"You got evil resting on your shoulders. And if ye were smart about it ye wouldn't let it grow."

'She's just like the rest of 'em.'

Keegan felt like he was hitting a wall. No matter who's warmth he sought it was always cold. People treated him like a dog, and a hound like him was only good at trailing after. They just wanted to drag him to church and dance to the same tune the rest of them were.

"Mebbe if you gentled and did what you know is good for ya-" Catalina was fired up, talking just like them church ladies.

Something between his heart and head connected, it sank and weighed deeper than any stone. The realization that this old truth coming to light was like a stone on his chest. There was never anything he had against people with good, honest faith. There was a time he tried to be like them. But it was never plenty what he did.

"I ain't need no gentlin', you and yer high-falutin' church sisters ought to stop expectin' me to drop to my knees and turn into a priest." He stared at her, hard.

Catalina had witnessed her brother's strong character but folks always said it was that hard head of his he inherited from his father.

"I've said it before and I'll say it again, whatever been haunting me ain't something that can be scared off by dusting off my Bible." His eyes were bloodshot, his voice cutting deep through the ringing. "Outen the lot of people I can go to, you're my sister. Whether ye like it or not, we're all we've got."

In that statement, there was familiarity, an intimacy only shared between blood.

Catalina knew what he was referring to. Their father was soon to follow their mother into the grave. What was to be of their future was now completely up to them, they would no longer have anyone to tie them down. But Catalina had always assumed she was to stay here. Keegan and Catalina would grow up to do what the adults did, it was the way of things. Why else would they leave their home?

But now, Keegan had always felt unsettled. He had tried to be of service, but growing up he always received a good kick or two. Things just didn't feel right.

"We never belonged."

The mother they shared, in name for Keegan and by blood for Catalina, had no history of her own in that town. The father they both shared by blood, was always an outcast.

"Recommember that."

They had a choice, and he was going to leave it clear with his actions. Plainer'n any words could do.