michael123pelemo:
Kudos op, can't wait for the next update

I strapped the backpack full of snacks and water bottles to myself, even going so far as to use the buckle in the front.
I had the knife tucked into my waistband and Peter took the Taser. I still didn't entirely trust him around knives.
Since they knew what the car looked like we parked relatively far away and hid it the best we could with tree branches.
Before I locked it up I reached in and grabbed my fuzzy purple dice off the rear view mirror.
"Peter," I called him over, "I want you to have these."
"What?" He asked as he appeared at my side.
I held the dice up and he let out a bubble of laughter, "the dice?"
"Yes," I had to roll my eyes at myself, "You said luck isn't your Forte, and we'll need all the luck we can get. I don't want you messing up our mojo."
He laughed.
No matter how uncomfortable it made him, I made him hold his hand out as I tied them around his wrist.
He admired my handiwork, shook his head, and began walking towards the road. I buried the keys in a shallow grave nearby and followed him.
"Since this is the road to the nearest town, their path probably branches off somewhere around here." he said as we walked on the shoulder of the road.
I felt amazingly uneasy. Every sound made my stomach lurch. But Peter seemed oddly calm, almost content with what we were doing. His sadness wasn't missed by any means, but what it was replaced with confused me.
We walked in silence, constantly listening for any unsavory noises. Peter's eyes were trained on the woods, looking for something that I couldn't.
His arm shot out in front of me, cutting me off, "Wait," he whispered, "I think I see it."
I followed his eyes but only saw the same line of trees we'd been walking alongside all day.
"I can't see anything."
He reached out like he was going to move me, but stopped himself and just ushered me over closer to where he stood.
"Look right there, kind of sideways."
I stared directly to where he pointed. The ground slopped downward right off the road, causing the trees to hang awkwardly. But as I moved closer I noticed a crooked path hidden among the branches.
It was wide, for something that was so hard to see, with lightly outlined tire tracks.
"They'll see us coming if we use this," I said.
He laughed, "That's why we're not walking directly on it."
He stepped into the woods and I followed, still notably more edgy than him.
We stepped lightly, fighting to make sure we made as little noise as possible in the underbrush. The walk was long and quiet, I was religiously sipping energy drinks to keep myself from passing out. The hot air made it feel like it was hard to breathe but I was afraid to take off the jacket and tie it around my waist. I needed to be ready to run at any moment.
We stopped a handful of times to sit on logs and eat jerky.
But the day was mostly dedicated to walking, stopping, looking around, and then walking again.
It was pretty boring until we found them.

We got to our feet and scrambled back into the car, blanket and empty can in tow.
"How would we even be able to find them?" I asked once we were buckled in.
"Finding them isn't what I'm worried about, I grew up in the woods. Plus there were too many of them to have driven, which means they walked, so the camps only a few miles away from the house." He said, eyes sharpening, readying for battle, "What I'm worried about is what we do when we get there."
"You have to know a thing or two about how that place runs."
"I do, that's why I'm nervous," he said, and then eyed me, "plus we need to get better prepared. Running from murderers in those flippy floppy things generally isn't a good idea."
"Okay, we'll stop by my house first."
"What if they're there?"
"Shit," I said, having not thought of that, "okay never mind, we'll stop by one of those sporting stores."
After checking on my phone I found one a town over from us in a mall.
"Well, I know how much you love malls." I teased as we pulled into the parking lot.
"Yep, it's a party every time I go in one after all." He smirked. There was a sudden lightness to him, he seemed calmer. I attributed it to getting some sleep.
Peter kept his eyes down, after a few outings he figured out that staring in awe wasn't a normal reaction to a Midwestern mall, but he was still learning exactly how to behave like a normal person, so he just looked at the floor.
The sporting goods store was on the far side of the building. We were greeted by headless mannequins in spandex.
I eyed him jokingly, "The mannequins are ready to run from you."
He smiled and sighed, "You attack a mannequin one time and they never let you forget it."
We went to the back of the store where shoes lined the walls, but we didn't bother with the sleek overpriced pairs, the sale rack was our destination. Combing through, I found a cheap pair in dark purple.
We continued looking around the store for things that could come in handy. While we were sifting through a sale rack Peter held up a sports bra.
"This looks uncomfortable."
I shook my head, "Not really, you should see the ones with wire."
His eyes got wide and he investigated the bra more, stretching the fabric. I just laughed and left him to it.
I already had enough athletic clothes to my name, but I found him a fitted jacket made out of thin, breathable material that might come in handy in the middle of the woods.
Stopping by the hunting section, Peter insisted that we get some sort of weaponry. The things we settled on were a cheap knife and a flashlight that was also a Taser. I hated having to buy a new knife, I had a pretty hefty collection at my house, but he was absolutely adamant that we shouldn't go back there, at least for a while.
We got dressed in the car, me in leggings, a tank top, and light jacket and him in jeans, a light shirt, and the jacket is picked up for him. All earthy colors and materials that wouldn't make any noise when we walked.
It was a few hours back to the town. I'd driven almost to the state line yesterday. But the car ride was surprisingly light-hearted.
Peter hummed along to the music and we ate candy and chips. I guzzled coffee and anything else that promised to keep me awake.
At one point he reached up and began handling my big purple dice.
"These are funny."
I smiled, "My dad got them for me. He insists they're good luck. I think they're a bit obnoxious, but I'll take all the luck I can get."
"Maybe I need a pair or two. Luck isn't exactly my Forte." He looked like he wanted to say something else but changed his mind.
I let it go, the sleeplessness was easier to hide in the quiet. I needed to keep it under wraps, his sudden burst of happiness was something I wanted to preserve, no matter how strange.
We pulled off to the side of the road when the sun started to go down. It was just outside of town, but still about forty minutes from home, so it felt safe enough.
I taped and tied him up until he felt fully constrained.
"You can go to sleep," he said as I got back in on my side of the car, "you definitely need it more."
I didn't argue, I just smiled and curled up into a comfortable position in the car seat.
A few hours later I was woken up by a familiar growl. It was dark outside the car windows, so he must have drifted off after a while.
I laid there for a minute, hoping I could just force myself back to sleep. But his wild jerking shook the car and jolted me all the way back out of my stupor.
Lying there I felt myself begin to question what I was doing. I felt like I always came back to the thought that maybe I was a fool. The feeling was hard to fight because I knew the facts.
Even though most of me felt completely trusting and comfortable with Peter, there was another instinctual part that wasn't so sure.
Yes, he was sweet and goofy. But this thing that thrashed around next to me was in there somewhere, and I had no idea how much of him it controlled.
But that wasn't the important part, right now we just needed to get the boys back. And tomorrow, we would be going into the woods.

Sleep was sparse that night. But I didn't trust him in the car alone, in case he managed to wiggle out of the ropes.
So I just laid there, for hours, watching him jerk around in the seat. He didn't talk again, just growled and kicked.
When the sun began to go up I decided to give in and slip out of the car. I grabbed an energy drink and a blanket.
Leaning against the side of the car that faced the field I wrapped myself in the blanket and watched the sun rise as I drank my drink. It was kind of sublime in a way.
Everything was quiet, aside from the muffled grunts coming out of the car. But as the sun rose through the distant tree line, I felt strangely calm.
On the other side of the field I could see a deer. Its movements were slow and lithe. I couldn't help but stare.
As soon as it spotted me it retreated back into the woods. Such a shame.
It made me think about Peter. So strong and mysterious, but so easily startled. Both could kill me, but I trusted that neither would.
After a few more minutes the rocking slowed and I heard a muffled call from inside the car.
Opening it up I was met with sleepy, human eyes. I untied him and cut off the tape.
"How do you feel?" I asked as he got out and walked around to my side of the car. He sat down next to my spit on the ground and pulled part of the blanket over himself.
"Better rested than you." He grabbed my drink and took a sip of it.
"And whose fault is that?" I cocked an eyebrow at him and snatched my drink back.
"Sorry about that." He said, yawning and stretching his arms above his head.
"Don't mention it."
He waited for a minute before asking, "So what's the plan boss?"
"Hell if I know."
"I mean, we can't go back home, or we're both dead."
"Or kidnapped," I added.
"What?"
"Kidnapped, their three boys were taken." I sighed. I'd almost forgotten about that part.
He turned to me suddenly, "Are you sure?"
"Yeah."
"Shit," he banged his hand on the car, "We have to go back for them."
"How would we do that?" I asked. Of course I knew we were their only chance of being found. But how you lift three young boys from a group of psycho killers in the woods is beyond me.
"I don't know," he began chewing on the corner of his lip anxiously, "somehow."

We drove out to a rural field and pulled off to the side of the road. It was unlikely that anyone would bother us, people who live off busy roads tend to recognize a tired traveler and leave them be.
As the light began to disappear from the sky I got to work taping the oven mitts around his hands so he wouldn't be able to claw anything. Then I leaned the seat back until he was comfortable and began winding the rope around him.
He laid still, allowing me to subdue him to the best of my ability. I taped his ankles together and put the mask over his nose and mouth so he couldn't bite.
When I felt he was sufficiently tied down I crawled back into the driver's seat and leaned it back so that I was eye level with him.
He turned his head to me and said, "I'm sorry about this."
I chuckled, "it's not your fault."
"Yes, it is. None of this would have happened if I wasn't here." All I could really see were his eyes, but they were sad enough. It hurt to watch him like this. He was such a happy person, he deserved to always be that way.
"You didn't kill those people."
"I might as well have." I could see him beginning to drift off. He looked so tired.
"It's them," I said, desperate to break him from this train of thought, "It's not you. They're the killers."
His eyes drifted shut for a second, and then flew open, pitch black.
"I could be a killer too." His voice was low and rumbling, a deep sound that caused the hairs on my arms to stick up. But a second later he shook his head back and forth wildly, and when he turned back around his eyes were the familiar milky blue, "I'm so tired Bo."
My heart sank, "I know, just go to sleep."
He shook his head again, "I can't."
I propped myself up on an elbow and grabbed his chin, forcing his face in my direction, "Listen. I'm not afraid of you, okay? I'm not afraid. Go to sleep."
I let go and he just looked at me for a moment ad I settled back down. But I watched him give in to the tiredness.
For a moment, I saw the stress and sadness melt off his face. He relaxed into the seat and his breathing slowed.
But as soon as he'd stilled he was back up again. With an animalistic squall, he began fighting the restraints. But he was still in the lanky boy's body, so it didn't do much.
After I was sure he wouldn't be escaping I reached up behind myself and clicked the locks shut, which made him roar.
I knew I wouldn't be sleeping, not with him throwing a fit like that.
So I just sat there, and all I could think of was the note in my pocket.
The devil lives in him

I threw the car in drive and we sped away, Peter staring behind us until we rounded the corner.
We sat in silence as I drove dangerously fast around the twists and turns. Glancing to my side I saw him, pale and grimacing, eyes locked on the road ahead.
"There's blood on your car." He said blankly.
I nodded, not wanting to think about the dead dog that now laid in the woods.
"Was that him?"
"Yeah, that was Master." I thought he was going to be on the verge of tears until I glanced back over and saw the stoic nature of his face, "He's seen you. You're not going to be safe."
"I'll be fine," I insisted, "Don't worry about me."
"No, Bowen, you need to worry. You don't know what he could do."
"I'm not scared, I'm just worried about you. But we'll be fine, we just need to get far away."
"No, no, no, no," he murmured into his hands, "You don't know."
"Just breathe Peter. We're going to deal with this a step at a time."
"What about your dad?"
"He's staying with a friend. I'll call him later and, I don't know, tell him something to convince him that he shouldn't go back."
Peter sat there for a while, breathing loud and fast.
I let him do it. I let him panic quietly until the panting began to taper off and he calmed down.
We pulled into a gas station as soon as I was comfortable stopping. The lack of food was causing my brain to lose some of its dexterity.
"Do you want anything?" I asked when I saw that he had no intention of getting out.
"No, just hurry." He said, leaning his head against the window.
I ran inside, buying energy drinks, candy and jerky. I figured that would tide him over when he gave in and ate.
After using the bathroom I went back out to the car where I saw Peter, eyes closed.
I smacked on the window, causing him to jump.
"No sleeping," I yelled through the glass. The last thing we needed right now was for him to go full on rogue while I was trying to drive.
"Please don't do that." He said as I got back into the car.
"You know you can't sleep."
"I wasn't, I was just resting my eyes."
"Well, you can't do that either," I said, opening a can of energy drink, "Take this."
He grabbed it from my hands, obviously a little grumpy, then we pulled back onto the state road.
After an hour I took a random turn and continued, just in case they tried to follow us.
"Bo," he said, after hours of silence, I turned down the radio, "I'm starting to get really tired."
The sun was going down, and I realized I didn't have anywhere to put him. We couldn't legally rent a motel room, and even if we were anywhere near my family or Callie I wouldn't feel comfortable having him in the same house as them.
"Yeah, we need to figure out what we're going to do," I said, chewing on the inside of my cheek.
I pulled into a Walmart, figuring we could find just about anything in there.
"Do you think we could survive a night in the car?" I asked, trying to gauge his response.
"You'd have to tie me down." He said.
We sat in silence for a minute, "Well we don't have a lot of options."
We both got out of the car and walked in. It felt like everyone could smell the tired sadness wafting off of us.
We grabbed rope, duct tape, sanitation masks, and oven mitts. Ignoring the curious eye of the checkout girl, we paid for everything and quickly got back to the car.
"Were lucky I'm good at saving money, you're expensive." I tried to joke. He smiled but seemed to wary to let out a laugh.
I could tell already, it was going to be a long night.

I didn't waste any time looking at them.
Turning on my heel I bolted out the door. Luckily Peter was already in the passenger seat.
I took the guitar off my shoulder and shoved it through the driver's side to Peter, not bothering to open the back door.
"What's wrong?" He asked, taking the guitar without question.
I got in and locked the doors without answering him.
"What is it?" He asked, forehead wrinkling.
I still didn't answer as I put the car in gear. He moved to put the black case in the backseat but froze, staring out the back window.
Turning around I saw what looked like an older man standing next to the house. His clothes were splattered with blood and his long white hair was matted and dark at the ends.
He was watching us.
"Drive." Peter croaked.

I stuffed the note into my pocket and back out of the spot as quickly as I could.
Pulling around to the shack I was relieved to see Peter sitting outside with bags in hand. I unlocked the doors and got out.
"This everything?"
"Besides the guitar."
"Okay I'll go get it, you get everything in the car and be ready to go."
He nodded and walked to the car as I went inside. Scanning the rooms I saw the guitar case leaned against the wall in the kitchen.
I ran over to it and slung it over my back. But as I straightened up, about to leave, something caught my eye.
Looking out the kitchen window, which opened up onto the woods, I saw people standing in the tree line.
And they were watching me.

My heart sped up at the words, "Whose back?"
"The elders and Master. They broke in last night." He was shaking, "we need to leave."
I reached out to him, but he flinched away so I let my arm drop back to my side, "Wait a minute, they know you're here? They know you're alive?"
"They know now. It apparently surprised them."
"And they just left you here?" I asked.
"They said they would be back," he tried to get up onto his trembling legs, "We need to leave. I don't want to go back."
I stood up too, but fought the urge to help him, knowing he wouldn't like it, "It's going to be alright."
"No its not, Master wanted me dead you don't think he won't try and make sure it happens this time."
"I won't let that happen, we'll get you as far away as possible. They won't be able to find you."
"You can't promise that." He was rubbing his face, "You can see what they did to those people down the road."
"Well they're not going to do that to you." I began throwing his books and clothes into plastic bags.
"They're going to kill you too. It was supposed to be you."
"What." I stopped what I was doing.
I could hear the stress in his voice, "I told them that they were the ones who were helping me, and they killed them."
He collapsed to the ground again. The news had the opposite effect on me however.
"Come on Peter you have to get up."
"They're dead and it's my fault."
"It's not your fault I promise. They're murderers," I squat down next to him, "They were going to kill somebody, it doesn't have anything to do with you."
I didn't even entirely believe what I was saying, but I couldn't deal with him becoming catatonic right now. We needed to move as soon as possible.
"But," he seemed lost for words.
"No buts, just get up and gather everything you want to take with you. I'm going to pull the car around. You need to have everything ready to load so no one sees. Okay?"
"Okay." He breathed.
I wanted to hug him, to make him feel better. But there wasn't time.
I got to my feet and walked out, checking to make sure no one was around to see us.
I jogged to the tree line and stepped quickly through the underbrush towards the car. But the as soon as I got close I froze.
Lying across the hood was the mangled body of one of the Lotte's Doberman Pinschers. The blood streamed down the sides and dripped onto the grass.
I had to muffle a scream. It was horrifying. Tears began to well up in my eyes. I'd liked those dogs, and these monsters had cut it to pieces. Who knows what they did with the other one.
I'd only parked in this spot a few minutes before.
I felt the panic hit me. They were here, and I had to get back to Peter immediately.
I approached the car. I was on the verge of puking, but I grabbed the dog's foot and pulled him off the hood. That's when I noticed a piece of paper tucked under my windshield wiper.
I took a deep breath and grabbed it before jumping into the car and locking the doors. I even checked the back seat.
The car roared to life but I let it idle, ready to flee at any moment.
Unfolding the note I saw only one line scrawled in pen.
The devil lives in him

"Peter?" I called through the door as I opened it.
Upon closer examination I could see that the door had been forced inward. Splinters of wood and bits of metal stuck out in award angles where the locks used to be.
"Yeah I'm in here." I heard, and pushed through the door. I found him curled up in the corner, sweaty and pale.
"Are you okay?"
He just shook his head, looking on the verge of nausea.
"What happened?"
I approached him slowly, not wanting to freak him out. Stopping a few feet away I sat on the floor so he wouldn't have to look up.
He stared me in the eye for a second and then said, "They're back."

"The police were just here asking if those boys were here. Their sons are missing."
"Wait, I mean what happened?"
"They didn't give me too many details. They got what they refer to as a mysterious call early this morning, and went to their house. Britney and Earl were both dead, but their boys are nowhere to be found."
I didn't know how to properly process the information, but I knew I had to get home quickly.
I jumped out of bed and gathered all of my stuff back into my bag. I pulled the covers back up over the spot I'd left and rearranged the pillows until it looked like I'd never been there at all.
With keys in hand I go and knock on my mom's door. Opening it a crack and peeking in, I see her sitting up.
"What is it Bowen?" She asked sleepily.
"There's an emergency at the house, I have to go right now, sorry."
"Okay dear, drive safe." And with that she collapsed back in bed with her still sleeping husband.
I was out the door almost insanity, locking it behind me. Luckily it was early enough that my car wasn't boiling hot as soon as I got in it.
The drive felt a lot slower this time, even though my foot rarely left the gas pedal. I just needed to be home.
I needed to make sure my dad was okay. He got along with the Lottes.
But it was Peter who has me particularly worried. Not just for his safety, but because even though I didn't want to, I worried that it has been him.
I knew what he became as soon as he fell asleep, I wouldn't put it past that strange creature.
When I got home I found my dad watching the news. I could hear the reporter talking about the mysterious rural murder.
"How are you doing dad?" I asked.
"It's scary, they can't figure out why someone would do it, but it had to be purposeful. It's not like you can just happen upon their house, and they're obviously not rich."
I sat down on the couch next to him. I realized they were reporting live from the house. An amber alert had been issued for the boys.
"Did anything weird happen last night?" I asked.
"Nope, it was all normal." He sighed, I could see the stress lining his face, "I'm thinking of staying with a friend in town for a while just to be safe, this just doesn't sit right."
I felt relieved that he wasn't going to be in the middle of it. I didn't want to have to worry about him getting killed too.
"That's a good idea."
"You should probably stay with your mom or Callie." I nodded, not really thinking that far ahead.
Now that I knew my dad was going to be safe I had to worry about Peter. Even if it wasn't him, and God I hoped I wasn't, he didn't need all those people prowling around his house.
"I'm going to go pack up some stuff."
"Yeah I should probably do that too." He said, standing up and leaving the TV running.
I went to my room and began pacing anxiously. There wasn't actually a lot for me to pack, since most of my necessities were already in my car.
I sat in my room, searching for updates on the story, but not getting too much. They were keeping the details under wraps for now at least, which drove me insane.
Eventually my dad came in and told me he was heading out with Harley. I gave him a hug goodbye and listened as his truck rumbled away.
I went back into the living room and combed through the news channels to see if there was any more coverage on the case. Most had moved on to different subjects, and the remaining tidbits I could find were old news, so I decided it would be safe to go up there.
I grabbed a few more things from my room and locked the house up before leaving. Dad fed all the animals before he left so they were alright.
I drove past the house. It was vacant but still lined with tape warning people not to trespass. Not even the Doberman Pinschers were there anymore.
I went straight to the spot where I usually parked and got out, practically jogging through the trees towards the house.
I got halfway to it before freezing. The wood around the reinforced locked was splintered open, like someone had really wanted to get in, or out.

I packed up my stuff the next afternoon before I left, since my room at my mom's was essentially just a mattress.
After all of my clothes and chargers were packed away I went and grabbed a few things from the bathroom.
I gave my dad a hug and was out the door with my backpack slung over my shoulder and snacks for the road.
The drive was about two and a half hours. But it was a nice way to prep myself.
Eventually I pulled up in front of her house. It was embedded deep in the suburbs, the kind of house you barely distinguish from its neighbors.
I pulled my bag out of the back seat and walked up to the door, ringing the bell.
It took a few moments before I heard a rustling inside and my mother appeared. She was wearing a summery dress and wedge heels.
"Bowen." She announced and opened the door wider to let me inside.
"Hey mom," I said, "How are you?"
"Fine, just fine," she shut the door behind me, "Cameron has some friends over right now, and I'm making penne rosa for dinner."
"Great." I tried to sound enthusiastic despite my stomach being full of cheddar popcorn and sour straws.
I drug my stuff up to my room, passing Cameron's open door. Peeking in I saw her sprawled across her bed with her friends as they played on their phones.
"Hey Cam." I waved as she turned her head. She waved back and turned around to her phone. I kept going until I got to my door.
The room was plain, the corners were filled with boxes and the bed was pristine, like it hadn't been slept on in a very long time.
Which it hadn't, I avoided this place. No matter how much I tried I couldn't make myself comfortable here. It was like staying with a stranger; sleeping in a guest room and not knowing which soaps it's okay to use in the shower.
She chose Cameron, this wasn't my home. It belonged to her, her daughter, and her new husband.
I set everything down and checked my phone. Callie had texted me a few days ago asking about the mysterious boy, but I was avoiding her questions. Since she was my cover story it would be harder to lie to her.
I put my phone away and laid down on the bed. Hugging one of the throw pillows, I thought about back home.
My dog there to run with me in the morning, my dad watching TV in the next room, and Peter there to fill the days with me.
That's where I wanted to be. I didn't want to be here and I didn't want to go to college. But things always change, whether you like it or not.
"Cameron, dinners ready!" Mom called. I heard the girls' footsteps thudding down the stairs and I followed a few paces behind.
I sat at the dining room table between happily babbling sixteen year olds and my mother and Sam, her new husband.
Mom talked about her students, she was excited for the upcoming school year. She talked about all the upcoming projects she had planned. Sam was a teacher too, health and PE. His stories were equally as enthusiastic.
I spent most of it staring at the floral Live Laugh Love wall art and eating the small heap of pasta in front of me.
The girls finished early and disappeared back into Cameron's room. I stayed behind and listened to my mom's stories about their trip to Disney World a few weeks ago.
I nodded along until she said, "Well it's time for us to turn in. If you have to use the bathroom tonight make sure to use the one down here. The toilet upstairs makes so much noise." She laughed and kissed me on the forehead before the headed to their room.
I lingered, not knowing what to do with myself. I paced through the house, admiring the old pictures.
There were Mom and Sam's wedding photos, professional portraits of Cameron, and a mess of her baby pictures. There were two of me, a baby portrait and my wallet sized freshman yearbook photo tucked in the corner of them with Mickey Mouse.
Tired, I quickly brushed my teeth and washed my face before heading to my room and locking the door. After checking my phone again I laid down and tried my best to get myself to sleep.
The next morning I woke up to six missed calls from my dad. I rubbed my eyes and checked again. I was going to call but he beat me to it.
"Dad what's wrong?" My throat caught as I said it.
"It's the Lottes down the street, they've been murdered. I need you to come home right now."

"Hold still." I say, trying to keep his chin pinched between my fingers. I could tell he wasn't fully comfortable being touched, so I kept it to a minimum, but it was a challenging thing to avoid when you were trying to shave a face.
Not to mention his head whipped around every time he heard a noise.
"Are you sure I really need to shave? I think it looks fine." I ran my bright pink razor down his jawline.
"You're starting to look like a crazy mountain man. The only reason you can get away with being is public is because you look like a big baby underneath the hair."
Luckily he'd grown used to my gentle prodding the last few weeks. Although it's not like he had a choice, we spent every day together.
Our days were simple, filled with reading out loud, learning songs on the guitar, and occasionally venturing out into the public eye. All the while, slowly breaking some of his rules.
From the occasional fleeting touch to the one time he nearly puked up an Altoid. Every day was a step closer.
Since he was completely oblivious to the concept of shaving, this was a step too. He was sitting, back uncomfortably rigid, on my toilet seat while I sat on the edge of my sink. The cream on his face filled the room with the strong scent of mangoes.
"It's not my fault I'm cute," he looked like he was going to add something but was cut off by the front door.
"Bowen? You home?" My dad called from the kitchen. I jumped off the sink, trying to think of what to do.
He'd never met Peter before, although he'd obviously been suspicious of how I spent my days. So it probably wasn't worth hiding.
I turned back to Peter, who wasn't hiding his panic well, "You go to college with my friend Callie, understand?"
He nodded, shaving cream dripping off his chin.
"I'm in here." I called back, leaving the bathroom with Peter in tow.
My dad turned around, eyebrows raising at the sight of the gawky boy covered in women's having cream, "Is this the mystery man everyone keeps talking about?"
"Yeah," I said, fighting the urge to feel uncomfortable, "this is Peter."
Luckily Peter had no qualms about touching men, so after my dad extended his hand he took it without too much of a hesitation.
"Okay." My dad said simply, letting go and moving across the kitchen to dig a soda out of the fridge, "I trust your judgement, kiddo."
"Thanks." I said, feeling relieved.
He shrugged, popping the top and taking a sip, "I know how I raised you. Why should I treat you like you're stupid?" He smiled at the both of us, "Anyway, I'm picking up a pizza later if you guys want any." And with that he went into the living room and clicked on the TV.
I turned back to Peter, who still looked unsure, "See, that wasn't so bad." And we disappeared back into the bathroom to finish my poor attempt at shaving his face.
The rest of the day involved him reading a book out loud while I painted my nails. I'd tried introducing him to television, but he was still warming up to it.
Dad left and came back with a pizza about a half an hour later and we all gathered in the living room with paper plates on our laps. Harley hid in my dad's room as usual. He wasn't a big fan of Peter.
We watched a basketball game and stuffed our faces. The pizza was a relief too, it had been hard trying to convince Peter that using utensils to eat was not sinful, and even harder to try and explain how to use them period.
"So your mom called." My dad said after the final buzzer, "she really wants you to come see her."
I groaned in protest.
"I know, I know, but you have to at least see her once before you go to college." I did my best to ignore the rapidly approaching move in day. The last thing I wanted to do was to move hours away and be stuck with people I didn't know, especially not now.
"Fine."
"She's free this weekend, so you can head up tomorrow." He said getting up and taking his plate to the trashcan.
"I guess," I sighed and then looked over to Peter, "I guess I better drive you home."
He nodded and stood up. We went and gathered some of the books and things we'd brought over and then walked out to my car.
"Why don't you want to see your mom?" He asked as he got into the passenger seat.
"We just don't see eye to eye. Plus we barely know one another. They divorced when I was three, she took Cameron and my dad took me. So there's always been a bit of favoritism going on on both sides."
"Huh," was all he said, and it kind of made me feel like an asshole. He didn't even have a family, and here I was picking mine apart.
We drove back to the wooded area where I always park the car. The neighbors were nowhere in sight so we walked freely to the house
He used his key to unlock the front door, which we had reinforced with extra locks for safety. Both his and everybody else's.
"Do you think you'll be okay while I'm gone?"
He laughed it off, "Of course. I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself occasionally."
I put my hands up, "Just making sure."

I had to go back and get my stuff, so I decided that I would give him that amount of time to explain himself.
My key was still in my pocket so I locked the door and directed him down the porch steps with the gun, "Start talking."
I made him walk out of arms range, although he came to that decision on his own due to the gun being point at him.
"Um, okay," he stuttered as we walked down my driveway, "I grew up, not around here. It was a place in the woods."
"Very descriptive." I mumbled.
"I'm trying," he said, before continuing, "Anyway, I lived with the master, the elders, and other boys."
"No girls?"
"Well all the elders were all women, but other than that no." He shrugged, "But we lived in really tiny houses, mostly made out of fabric."
"Like a tent?"
He sighed, "That's probably your word for it I guess. Our houses definitely weren't that big. I and the other boys stayed in a house that actually had a door, so they could lock us in every night."
"And you didn't think that was creepy?"
He looked confused, "No." But continued on with his description, "The other boys and I did labor mostly, taking care of livestock and the garden, as well as school. And I don't know, yeah, that's about it."
We'd finally made it down my driveway and onto the road. I thought for a second, the story didn't really answer any of my questions, so I had to ask a few more, "And they made you cut yourself?"
"No, we used to always have an elder who would watch us and if we sinned she would cut us and put the blood into one of the glass jars they always had to carry. I just do it now, because I feel like I have to I guess." And surely enough he had a brand new row of fresh slices.
"What did they do with the blood?"
He just shrugged and kept walking, seeming wary of the story telling. But I couldn't let him stop this easily, I needed to know who we was to some degree, and whether or not he was truly dangerous.
I changed the subject, "How did you end up out here then?"
He shrugged again.
I let out a breath, "What's the last thing you remember?"
We were nearing the shack and his uncomfortable pauses had taken up way too much of the walk. The more he neglected to tell me the less I could feel myself trusting him, as much as it hurt.
I wanted him to stay the dopey weirdo who fed ants and attacked mannequins. But that monster had engrained itself in my brain.
He rubbed his arms anxiously, "It's bad."
"Shoot." I insisted, nothing could be worse than what I'd already seen.
"Elder Hamilton and I were very close, she taught me how to play guitar. She was amazing, beautiful Raven hair and a voice that made your toes practically tingle. She was the only woman who ever touched me without cutting me." He paused for just a moment, his eyes getting a bit dreamy, "She would rub my arm whenever I played well, and brush the hair out of my eyes when I concentrated too hard. She said it was our little secret, and that it wasn't bad, even though I knew it was."
He was flushed with embarrassment. I didn't know how to feel, he spoke about this woman like she was all that was good in the world, and it left a bad taste in my mouth, "Go on." I urged.
He cleared his throat, "We were very close. I had lessons with her every day in the evening, and she used to let down her hair and take off her outer shall. I'd never been that close with anyone before." I saw him wince a little bit, "But one day Master found out about the particular nature of our lessons and walked in on us."
He stopped again. This time he was absolutely beet red and refusing to make eye contact with me, but I said, too engrossed in the story to care, "And then what?"
"He took me out into the woods and told me that no men were allowed, only boys, and that if I insisted on doing manly things I would have to pay the price," He finally looked over to me, "and that's honestly the last thing I remember."
I thought for a second, relaxing the gun at my side as we approached the house. None of the story really told me why he came back from the dead, or what had happened the night before. But I bit back some of my harsher questions.
He looked so tired from telling me that story alone. So I said the first thing that popped into my head, "God that's awful."
He opened the door for me and we went inside. Nothing was out of place besides the blanket I'd thrown off of myself last night that now laid limply on the floor.
"I don't know. Things aren't so bad now. I just don't want you to be mad at me."
"I'm not mad," I sighed, "It's just, I don't know who or what you are."
He laughed, "What I am?"
"Yeah."
"I'm human." He said it like it was obvious.
"Really? Because I've seen you do some profoundly inhuman things." I grabbed my phone off the ground and tucked it into my pocket.
"Like what?"
"Well last night you attacked me. You looked like you weren't even a person anymore. Your eyes were totally black."
"Well I mean I sleep walk, all of the boys sleepwalk. That's why we needed to be locked up, so we didn't hurt ourselves." He picked up the blanket and folded it.
"That wasn't sleep walking. I've seen people sleep walk."
He shrugged his shoulders, "I'm sorry, I wouldn't scare you on purpose."
"There's another thing too," I said, sitting down on the recliner, "I don't know how you'll react to hearing it."
He looked as worried as I expected, "What's that?"
"When I originally found you, you were dead."
He laughed like I was joking, "No I wasn't, I was just asleep."
"No you were dead. Bloated, maggots, the works."
"That's not funny," he said, "That's not even possible."
"Well it's true."
He shook his head, obviously not convinced. But then I remembered the pictures I'd taken with my phone. I pulled it out, there was a miniscule sliver of battery life left, but it was good enough.
"Look," I clicked on the image so his bloated frame filled up the whole screen, "I took this back when I saw that you were healing. You woke up a few days later."
He took the phone out of my hand and began pacing around the room. His face fell as he recognized his old clothes and the floor he'd woken up on.
He walked back over to me and dropped the phone in my lap. I was going to say something but he plopped onto the ground and buried his head between his knees.
I immediately felt like an asshole. He obviously had no idea, and this was not easy news.
I slid to the ground and crawled towards him slowly, "Are you alright?"
He looked up, eyes wet but not spilling over, "I promise, whatever is going on, I'm not doing it. I didn't know."
"I know." I realized the gun was still in my hand, and I leaned over to set it down a few feet away. It was the ultimate test, if this was all an act, he could easily kill me now.
As I withdrew my hand from the cold metal he caught my wrist. The grip was light and hesitant, and his palms were drenched in sweat.
I looked up at him, his eyes had cleared but remnants of grief still creased his face, "I don't want to be scary."
He took his hand back quickly, but I smiled to reassure him, "I know, we're going to figure out what's going on, promise."

The next morning I woke to the sound of Dads truck rolling down the gravel. I'd managed to drift off in the early morning, worn out from crying.
There was a feeling of relief that he was fine and oblivious. I'd had many panicky thoughts about Peter breaking into the house and murdering him.
I crawled out of the back of the car, looking around just for safety. But everything was normal, untouched by the events of last night. I almost had to make sure it wasn't some big hallucination.
Stretching my back out, I made my way over to the house. The key was under a statue of a sleeping deer, but after I used it I took it inside with me.
I did another sweep of the house to check every door and window. They were all still locked, so I just closed all the blinds and sat in my kitchen.
I wanted to take a shower and go to sleep, but I was too scared to do both. So I sat at my kitchen table and ate cereal while watching TV on my laptop in an attempt to calm myself down.
I didn't think I would ever be comfortable here again. The image of him was engraved in my mind. I expected him to be around every corner.
There was a knock at the front door, right behind me. I didn't get up, if it was the mailman he could leave the package on the porch.
"Bowen?" A familiar voice called through the door, "Are you alright?"
I gritted my teeth, having to fight the urge to respond.
"I woke up and you were gone and the door was broken," he sounded anxious, "I don't know what happened."
Part of me clung to the helpless tone of his voice, but I fought it. He was a monster, I saw it. It looked me right in the eye. A chill ran through me just thinking about it.
"Please say you're alright. I'm scared." It was probably the most pitiful phrase I'd ever heard.
Against my better judgement I got up and walked over to the door. Squinting through the peephole I saw him, looking as normal as ever.
Eyes sad, but blue and clear. He wasn't smiling like he normally was, but there was no trace of the fierce snarl from last night.
I rubbed my eyes, trying to come up with an idea. The lack of sleep was wearing on my decision making abilities.
The only idea I could think of was obnoxious, and I hated it, but it was all I had. I went to my dad's room and took the handgun out of his nightstand.
I hated guns, but that didn't mean I didn't know how to shoot them.
Approaching the front door slowly I turned the lock and opened it.
Peters face lit up when he saw me, but the light faded quickly when he saw the gun pointed at him.
"What's wrong?" He asked, flinching away from me.
"Get back." I ordered. He stepped back from the screen door.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm aiming a gun at the thing that tried to kill me last night."
He looked dumbfounded, "What?"
"Last night, you growled like an animal."
"No I didn't," he insisted, "Why would I even do that?"
"Why would I make it up?" I pressed the nose of the gun to the screen until it was concave.
"I don't know," he grasped for words, "I'm so confused."
"You're confused, that's rich." I laughed humorlessly.
"I swear, I don't know what you're talking about but I'll do anything to make it up to you."
I thought for a second, letting the two halves of my brain fight it out. On one hand I had no idea who or what he was and he'd proven himself to have a dark side. But on the other, he seemed so sincere, and I was so painfully curious.
"I want to know everything," I said, "You have to tell me everything."

My eyes flew open. I held my breath, hoping it was only my imagination.
But it wasn't. The low growl was real, and getting louder. I propped myself up on my elbow and was about to ask Peter if he could hear it too.
But before I could his head whipped around to me. A gasp caught in my throat as I saw his eyes, the soft blue eaten away by black. The growl that escaped from deep in his chest thundered on even louder.
I'd never seen him look like that. The normally happy and smiling face was filled with so much hatred. I don't think I'd ever seen such pure, unadulterated anger. The lines of his face sharpened, pulled around his teeth in a snarl.
I backed up against the wall instinctively, but instantly regretted it. The movement set him off. He jumped up to his hands and knees, the blanket sliding to the ground pitifully.
He moved towards me slowly, each step deliberate and smooth. Suddenly he seemed to carry the same lithe as a full grown tiger. My heart sped up so abruptly I had to fight the feeling of faintness in my head.
As he got closer I could see his eyes better. The iris completely swallowed up by a cloudy darkness. And as he got so close our noses were nearly touching, I could see my own terrified expression reflected in them.
I jumped up, losing a lot of momentum to the air mattress. An arm shot out, causing me to trip and topple onto the rug. I felt his hand press down against my spine, compressing my lungs into the carpet. Gasping desperately, I kicked out, hearing a yowl as I collided with something solid. The pressure on my back disappeared and I shot to my feet.
There was a soft splintering sound as I pushed my way through the front door and bolted. The angry snarls grew softer the more I ran, so I dared to look back. He was crouched in the doorway watching me, but he didn't venture past the small front porch.
That didn't slow me down by any means. I ran like my life depended on it all the way home. I knew I couldn't go inside without getting questioned why I was barging through the door at night looking terrified.
I trekked up my driveway, constantly swiveling my head around to check the surrounding trees. Every time I turned I swore I could see a silhouette standing among the trees. I'd never felt more watched.
I got to my car and crawled in the back, thankful that I never bothered locking it. I clicked every door shut and crammed myself into the floor behind the front seats. But every time I allowed myself a glace up I expected to see him standing there on the other side of the window.
He never was though. It was only the darkness and the trees, which were enough to freak me out on a normal day. I folded my arms over my face and staid as still as I could while I waited for my pulse to slow down.
I'd been so stupid. That whole time, what was I expecting? There was obviously something severely wrong. He'd probably been tricking me all along so that he could get me alone at night. Why did I think he was a valid source of friendship? It was a whole new level of pathetic. Yeah the dead body that comes back to life, definitely best pal material. No wonder I didn't have any other friends; I was that stupid girl in the horror movie who gets killed half way through.
I didn't sleep the whole night, I just laid there thinking about his contorted face and imaging a slew of terrifying possible scenarios while trying my best to fight back the tears that rolled down the sides of my face. I didn't know if I was sadder about almost being killed, or that I was alone again.

I'd succumbed to the idea of it, even though it left a bad taste in my mouth. Even though this place felt as comfortable as could be in the daylight, night time was a whole other story.
I doubted that Peter would do anything to me at this point, it was the people he talked about that had me worried. What if these "elders" made an appearance? There was obviously something twisted happening there that I didn't totally get.
And on top of it all I was petrified of the dark. Which was silly and juvenile, but painfully true. And now not only was I going to be trapped in the dark, I was going to be trapped in a dark abandon shack.
"It's fine, it won't be so bad." He insisted, stopping down in front of where I'd crumbled to the floor. He wasn't used to being the comforting one, and it showed.
When I didn't respond he grabbed the book from where it laid sprawled open on the floor and began reading.
And oddly enough, it calmed me down a little bit. My heart slowed in my chest, and my brain latched onto the story, allowing it to carry me away.
I turned my phone back on and saw the inevitable texts from dad. I considered telling him that I'd gone in a run anyway, but that probably wouldn't be convincing in my jean shorts and flip flops.
I told him I was staying the night with Callie and sealed my fate.
Peter looked up and said, "You can sleep on the mattress if you want."
I waved it off and gestured for him to continue reading. He looked at the book warily.
"You don't have to if you don't want to."
"Can I try something on your guitar."
"Sure."
He walked over to where I'd propped it up against the wall and took it out of its case. It wasn't anything spectacular looking, my dad got it from a pawn shop for fifty dollars.
He sat down against the wall and began tuning, something my short stint of guitar lessons never covered, so I was already impressed.
After a round of plucking and knob turning he actually played a little tune that actually sounded like one of the songs I'd played on my phone earlier.
"Are you playing that from memory?"
"It's stuck in my head," he said, "I'm trying to get it right."
"That's impressive."
"Elder Hamilton was very good, she taught me every Friday."
I was going to remark but instead opted to nod and listen as he gave it a few goes, each time getting closer and closer to the real song.
I played the song a few times so he could get a better feel for it and within an hour the song was near perfect.
He stood up and said, "okay now you have to do the lyrics."
"Why?" I asked, still sitting.
"Because I don't know them."
I sighed, considered arguing the subject, but settled on the fact that I have nothing to lose.
I got to my feet and grabbed an empty soda bottle, holding it to my mouth like a microphone.
That's how we spent the rest of the day, I taught him the lyrics and we danced around singing the same song over and over. It wasn't really something I normally considered when it came to my free time, but no electricity really brings out the creativity in people I guess.
Eventually the sunlight ran out and we ended up on the floor, on opposite sides of a small candle. We had to keep the light as dim as possible so it wasn't visible from outside.
"So do you know how you got here?" I asked. It seemed as good of a time as any.
"Not really." Was all he responded, staring at the back of the book we'd been reading all day.
"I mean, what do you remember last?"
He frowned and stared at the book for a few more minutes, "Just a normal day back home. I did my chores and then spent the evening with Elder Hamilton learning to play." But as he said it I saw a slight twitch of his face.
"And then you just woke up here?"
He shrugged his shoulders, "pretty much."
"Nothing else happened?"
"I don't know." He groaned, it was one of the first times he didn't look jolly. In fact, he looked tired.
"I'm just curious is all," I back pedaled a little bit, "Your life was obviously very different than mine."
"I'll tell you, tomorrow though, I'm exhausted." He said, licking his fingers and pinching out the small flame, "let's just get some sleep."
And with that he laid down under a blanket and turned his back to me. I took a minute, trying to fight the panic that was setting in.
Letting my eyes adjust I examined every crook and crevices of the room. From the shelves we'd set up to the empty bags strewn across the floor.
Nothing was going to hurt me. I was perfectly safe. Everything was alright.
I had to repeat those thoughts over and over as I laid down on the squishy mattress.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying not to over react to every little noise. Until I heard the growling.

"Didn't the, um, elders or whatever, let you wash your hair?"
"Only during the full moon."
"Of course." I said under my breath. I got to work blowing up the air mattress while he messed around with the set of small shelves.
As I did it I noticed that most if his cuts were nearly healed already under the smeared sharpie.
Actually he didn't seem to have any new looking marks, "so you haven't sinned recently?"
"No I have, I've just been tallying them up, I'm waiting for the right time to do the cuts." But based on the tired look in his eye, he was avoiding it more than waiting for it.
"Yeah, I mean it's probably more effective," I said, trying to sound comforting, "the sharpie lasts a lot longer than the cuts do."
"Yeah that's a good point." He said, peering at the instructions
I hopped he decided to lay off the slicing and dicing. It obviously wasn't good for him.
We worked on our respective projects for a while. I played music from my phone to fill the quiet, and I could hear him trying to hum along.
After the bed was inflated I began wrestling the fitted sheet onto it.
"Where do you want this?" I asked.
He looked up, long tendrils of dark brown hair clinging to his neck in the heat, "Just over there."
I put it along the wall with the recliner. Picking up the old blanket I'd left, which was squished into the crevices of the recliner, I folded it neatly on the end of the bed to give it an air of tidiness.
"How's the shelf coming along?"
"Not too shabby." He grunted, locking a piece of wood into place.
I began picking up the trash and piling it in the kitchen. My eyes wondered to the spot where is body used to lay. He must have cleaned the remaining trash because the only remnant was a large stain on the peeling floor.
A shiver ran through me, but as I turned around to the boy with his legs spread eagle on the floor messing with the shelf, I felt oddly comforted.
The scary body I'd found didn't exist anymore. Instead there was just a gawky boy with marker all over him, humming along to a sweet summery song. It made a lot of the scary things in the world seem just as silly.
Then something else caught my eye.
"Hey, you better be careful with the food, you've got some serious ant activity going on over here." I said, admiring the row of black specks making their way across the floor in the kitchen.
He got up and came into the kitchen to investigate. When he saw that I was right he went over to the bag of food we'd gotten yesterday and pulled out a large pouch of jerky.
After tearing the top off with his teeth he walked back and knelt down next to the ants. Digging around in the bag he pulled out a particularly dry piece and crumbled it over them.
"Well that's definitely not going to help."
"Why wouldn't it help them?" He looked up at me confused.
I raised an eyebrow, "I mean help you, silly. If you feed them they'll come back."
"They have as much of a reason to be here as me," he grinned, "I'd think you would know more than most, that sometimes things just need someone to care a little bit."
I blushed, and then snatched the bag of jerky from his hands, "Well we might as well eat this now that you've opened it."
Bolting back to the main room I sat back down on the rug and tore into a piece of jerky.
I noticed my phones battery getting low so I powered it off.
"How on earth will we entertain ourselves now?" I exclaimed in mock despair.
He went back over to the shopping bags and pulled out one of the books we'd gotten. Being that there was no electricity I'd insisted on him buying a few half price books to kill time and catch up on his vocabulary.
"Here," he handed it to me, "read it to me."
"I don't want to leave you doing all the work." I said, refusing to reach out and take it.
"No worries, I'm not exactly a pro at modern language, but if the book doesn't throw me maybe we'll switch off."
So we sat like that for hours, eating teriyaki flavored jerky as I read and he milled around building and cleaning. He occasionally interrupted me to ask what things like jump ropes and debit cards were. Most of which were surprisingly hard to explain, but he didn't argue with any of my vague or confusing descriptions, he just kept on working.
It was strangely comfortable sitting there in the boiling heat, in a rundown shack that now smelled strongly of air freshener, with my back pressed against the recliner. My legs were crossed in front of me, thighs sticking together in the heat, which I hated. I hated being hot and sweaty. But regardless of it, I was pretty happy.
Until I checked the time.
"Shit!" I yelped, jumping up and looking out the window at the slowly dying light.
"What?" He asked, startled.
"Oh this is bad."
"What is?"
I turned away from the window and put my hand on my forehead, "My dad's home from work now."
"So?"
"He thinks I'm with my friend, and if I get home without him hearing a car in the driveway he's going to get suspicious." I'd had a few embarrassing incidents trying to sneak out of the house to prove it.
"Well just tell him you were running or something."
I hated past me, "I told him I wasn't going to."
He stood up, "We'll figure it out, I promise."
But I could tell he didn't have any ideas, and I knew I would have to spend the night in the shack.
**********

I marched through the tall grass back to my car and drove home.
It was kind of sad how beat I was. I guess after hours of lugging things around and having to divert him from anything damaging I had the right to be. But even with all my efforts he had two full arms of sharpie marks.
People stared him down, many of which I knew, so I had an aching feeling I would be hearing about it later.
And the next morning that suspicion was realized.
"So who was the young man you were with at the mall yesterday?" Dad asked from the kitchen table while I made myself some coffee.
"A friend of Callie's from college." I was already prepared for the question.
"From what I heard he was a freaking weirdo." He said through a mouth full of bacon.
"Well you're the one who always says college makes people weird."
"And now I have my proof," he said, but added "and you're still going."
I chuckled, "Works for me."
"I also heard he's kind of a looker."
"Oh god, no, we have avoided talking like this for eighteen years and were not starting now."
He put his hands up in defense, a fork poking out between two fingers, "Works for me. Maybe you should talk to your mother about him. You need to see her at some point you know."
It my fault for thinking my eighteenth birthday would free me from having to visit that woman outside of major holidays, "Yeah, yeah I'll get around to it."
We ate breakfast together, discussing anything but the previous two topics. He asked about my plans for the day and I told him I was going to hang out with Callie so he wouldn't ask any questions.
"Staying the night?"
"Probably not." I shrugged.
"Well just let me know. Think you'll go running today?"
"Nah," I waved off the idea, "it's too damn hot."
"You got that right." He sighed.
We finished and he headed off to work.
I gathered some of my old twin sheets and the guitar I got back when I thought I was going to be a professional singer. If he could really play he would get more use out of it than I would.
I hiked to his house, the bundled up sheets tucked up under an arm and the guitar slung across my back.
He opened the door and peeked out, smiling when he spotted me, "Good morning!"
"Morning. Did you sleep okay?" I can't imagine how he sleeps out here.
"Not bad, got up early and started messing with some of the stuff."
When I stepped through the doorway I could see the extent of his "Messing with". Boxes and bubble wrap were laying in massive heaps.
"Well at least it looks like you had fun." I kicked an opened box.
"Whoops."
"So where would you like to start?"
"I had some trouble with the air mattress."
I went and sat down in the middle of the rubble, "At least you put the rug down," I said looking for the inflatable mattress, "By the way, is your hair damp?"
"Yeah I actually washed it in a creek just over there." He ran his hand through it, sounding very proud as he nodded his head towards the tree line.

"I feel like I've heard of that in stories about the puritans."
"Yep it's a pretty big thing for us."
"It sounds weird."
"Yeah, weird is a big thing for us too."
We drove on in silence. I turned up the volume of whichever CD I had in and he tapped his foot to it.
"You like it?" I asked.
"Yeah it reminds me of the elders' music."
"It's called folk."
"I like it, I used to be able to play the guitar."
"Cool." I said, a little shocked. There seemed to be very little consistency in what was considered okay with him.
We let the music fill the car until we pulled into the mall parking lot.
"Are you ready?" I was asking myself as much as I was asking him.
He pulled his knife out of his waistband and said, "Ready."
"No," I said, which looked like it confused him, so I elaborated, "You can't bring a knife into a public place."
He snorted and opened his door, "Yeah right."
"Give me the knife!" I grabbed the hem of his shirt.
"No I need it."
"Give the knife to me." I hated how much it sounded like I was talking to a toddler.
He sat back down, "But what if I sin?"
"You have to save it for later, okay?"
"I'll forget."
I sighed and began pawing through the middle console until I found a sharpie, "Here, use this."
"A marker?"
"People will still think you're weird, but not the murderous kind."
He looked at me, unsure, but put the knife down in a cup holder.
"Ata boy." I said, wondering if I was going to seriously regret this.
I walked across the parking lot, a wide eyed weirdo in poorly fitting clothes in tow.
He flinched at the pop music overhead when we walked through the glass doors. I laughed a bit to myself but hid it so I wouldn't bruise his confidence.
The mall wasn't too big so it wasn't long until there were swarms of teenagers walking past, staring down the poor fool.
He was noticeably uncomfortable, and I couldn't help but feel guilty. But as I was about to try and distract him he stopped in front of one store.
He was staring down a mannequin in a modern mauve pink dress and a leather jacket.
"Why don't you ever dress like that?" He asked me.
I stood next to him, keeping a safe distance so he wouldn't freak out, "I don't know."
"You don't like it?"
I shrugged, "No, it's really pretty. I just don't think I can really pull off stuff like that."
"I think it would look good on you."
I smiled, but before I could thank him he walked into the store and appeared in the display window. He grabbed the mannequin and began pulling it until it collapsed into his arms.
Behind him I saw an employee rushing through the racks towards him. I ran into the store, but by the time I got to the window the employee was already behind him.
"No wait." I said but it was too late.
She reached out and grabbed his arm, "Sir, what do you think you're doing?"
He yelled out and dropped the mannequin. They both jumped back, equally surprised by each other.
He pulled out his sharpie and waved it at her defensively. When I finally got over to them he looked at me and said, "She touched me!"
I turned to the girl, someone I vaguely recognized from school, "Sorry about that."
"Boa?" She asked confused, "You know him?"
"Um, yes."
Her eyes flicked back and forth between us, "Where on earth did you find him?"
"He's obviously not from around here." I said, almost offended by her tone.
"Obviously." She raised her eyebrows.
"Okay," I held up my hands, "we're leaving."
"Please."
I turned to him and motioned for him to stand up, "Come on Peter," but as he did he reached for the dismantled mannequin, "No, leave it," I waved his hands away from it, "we need to leave."
He got up, marking himself with the sharpie, and giving the girl a look that was the equivalent of him sticking his tongue out at her. The girl glared at both of us before I turned around and followed him out of the store.
"She wasn't very nice." He said as he capped the marker and put it back in his pocket.
"Yeah, she was a bitch in high school too, don't worry about it."
"Maybe this wasn't a good idea." He sat down on a wooden bench and rubbed his face.
I leaned against the wall next to him, "No its fine, it happens. You're just a little bit too much of a go getter for the modern world."
His face was still covered but I swear I could see him smiling a bit.
I took it as a good sign and rolled with it, "So now we're going to go look at some cheap unassembled furniture, and you're not going to touch anything unless instructed to."
"Fine."
After many hours of shopping and postponing breakdowns I drove back and parked in the woods near the shack so no one would be able to see the car.
We carried the bags and boxes into the house but were both too tired to bother putting everything together.
"I'll come back tomorrow and get you set up." I said, shuffling out the door, having not put that much effort into anything in a long time.
"Wait." He said, putting the last box down, "I wanted to thank you."
I smiled and said, "Don't mention it."
"Well I know you didn't have to," I was about to question him, since he'd assumed I was an appointed guardian, "I figured it out a while ago."
"Sorry." I said for lack of a better word.
He grinned, "I think you've earned any forgiveness you could need."

I walked back to my house to get my car. But first I had to go into my house to fetch my keys and wallet before going to my parking spot under the tree that used to bear my tire swing.
The poor car had gotten almost no use in the past month since I stopped going to school every day, and it had the accumulated grime to prove it. The only part that still looked new was the pair of fuzzy purple dice hanging from the rear view mirror.
I drove around to the shack and tapped my horn lightly. Peter peeked out, like it would be anybody but me, and then crossed the overgrown lawn to the passenger side door.
I leaned over to unlock it, but when he pulled it open he hesitated.
"Is there a problem?" I asked, just waiting for him to tell me that cars were a sin.
"Why is it so low to the ground?"
I shrugged, "That's how it was built."
"All the cars I've seen are big, and have big wheels." He was gesturing with his hands but since my car is indeed low to the ground, all I could see was the hem of the shirt dancing along his midsection.
"That's all very nice and good but I promise they all work the same."
He ducked in, looking uncomfortable, and shut the door behind him.
"Sorry it's not like you're used to." I said halfheartedly.
"Well I've never actually been inside of a car."
Of course he hasn't, "well then this is going to be an interesting day for you."
As soon as I hit the gas he latched himself to the door handle like he was going to fly away.
I laughed, "Are you alright?"
"This makes my stomach feel weird."
"Yeah, I guess it would." I glanced over, "Do you know how to put on your seat belt?"
"Yeah, I think, isn't it this button?" He said, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him push the window button before I could stop him.
The car filled with a strong gust of wind and he shrieked in surprise, throwing himself across my lap and causing the car to swerve.
And once he realized he was touching me, a female, he shrieked again and threw himself into the floor board.
I stomped on the break and we came to a jerking stop in the middle of the road. Luckily cars rarely come through here.
"Are you alright?" I asked tentatively.
"I don't think I like cars." He murmured from under the glove compartment.
"I know, but it's kind of unavoidable these days," I said, reaching for him to pull him up but stopping myself, "Come on, get up."
He pulled himself back into the seat and I showed him how to actually put on his seatbelt.
"Okay are you ready to give it another go?"
He nodded, "Yeah."
"And you're not going to press any more mysterious buttons?"
"Don't patronize me." He said giving me a sideways look.
I started the car again, "Fair enough."
We drove on and he asked questions.
"Where are we going?"
"A mall." I told him, but was seriously reconsidering taking him to such a populous area. Unfortunately, the mall was the sole place within a two-hour radius that sold anything except animal feed.

"So why do you do the, um," I gestured towards his arm, "cutting thing?"
He didn't even glance down, "Because I have to."
"But do you know why?"
He laughed but didn't answer, and continued to pull stuff out of the bag, "So what's your name weird girl?"
His opinion of what's weird was a little different than mine, "Bowen."
"You puritans are funny, with your weird gender confused names."
"Well what's yours?"
"Peter." He said and then snickered, "Bowen," under his breath.
I rolled my eyes. It was all kind of too surreal to process. He was standing in front of me, with a names and thoughts. None of which made me feel like less of a creep for hanging out with a dead body. But I just rolled with it.
He pulled out a mini bottle of mouthwash and examined it. Then, as if bitten by it, he yipped and tossed it to the ground.
As he whipped out his knife I flinched and asked, "What's wrong?"
"Mint!" He yelled before running the knife over his arm.
"Mint?"
But I could almost say his next phrase along with him, "It's a sin."
"Who told you this?"
"Master."
I nodded, figuring now was not the best time to argue the logic of this mysterious person.
Next he pulled out the sweatpants and examined them. Seemingly pleased he set them down and immediately stripped off his old torn pants. His lack of shyness didn't stop me from blushing and turning away.
This wasn't my first rodeo, I'd done a lot more than look in my day, but it was still surprising.
He pulled on the sweatpants, but they hung awkwardly loose. Unfazed, he pulled out one of my tee-shirts and traded out his torn plaid shirt for it.
The shirt ran about five inches too short, leaving an odd gap of bare stomach.
I sucked in a breath through my teeth, "yeah, we might need to go shopping."
He looked at me, confused. "We need to do what?"
"Shopping," I said, and then hesitated, "You know what shopping is right?"
"It's when the elders leave and come back with supplies."
"Well now it's your turn."
He grimaced, "I don't know."
"Oh come on," I waved off his hesitancy, "what's the worst that could happen?"
But just as I said it the long list of possibilities scrolled through my brain.