Chapter 4 Avilyna
Avilyna
Arriving home, I rush straight for the shower, the weight of the day still hanging heavy on my shoulders. As I pass through the garage, I notice Dad’s truck isn’t parked, though that’s hardly unusual.
I quickly texted him to let him know I’m home, just in case the school tried to reach him today.
After my shower, I take my time moisturizing my skin that feels drier than the Sahara, and honestly, that’s not a cute look.
I’m halfway through slathering on lotion when my phone buzzes—Aaron.
I answer, angling the phone to the ceiling, killing the vibration that was only adding to my nerves.
“Hi! I can’t see you!”
“Calm your tits, I just got out of the shower.” Hurrying to get dressed, Aaron keeps talking to the drywall.
“Sorry, sorry! I’m just excited for you!”
“You mean you’re living vicariously through me.”
“You know me so well.” I can practically hear him grinning. “Okay, show me the outfit!”
Vanessa had already given her fashion verdict: black denim mini skirt, mesh tights, and my black Dr. Martens.
I paired it with a dark grey turtleneck, letting my natural curls fall loose for once.
My makeup is minimal: some mascara, a flick of eyeliner, a touch of blush, and tinted lip balm.
I hate foundation; it erases my freckles and makes me look like someone I am not.
Aaron gasps dramatically.
“Damn, girl! You look hot as fuck! You’re so lucky, those curves make that outfit look like it was made for you.” I’m about to sass him back when the passenger door next to him opens, and Daniel climbs in.
“Hi, Dan!”
“Hey, Lyna. Wow, looking good.” He smirks. “I hear you’ve got a date.”
“At this rate, the whole world will know.”
“Sorry,” Aaron chimes in, shrugging, “but you can’t expect me to keep secrets from my boyfriend.” Dan throws an arm around him and plants a kiss on his temple.
Fair enough.
I've come to accept that Aaron comes as a package deal.
The only reason Dan isn't always by our side is that he attends an elite private school abroad, enjoying all the perks that come with being one of the privileged kids. Apparently, using his parents’ wealth to compensate for their absence is a real thing.
He comes here whenever he can, which is during his rugby off-season or the holidays.
After I hang up with Aaron, I glance at the time, 7:25. Dad’s still not home, and my text is unanswered, which is unusual. I try calling, but it keeps ringing until it goes to voicemail.
Odd.
I send him a couple more texts, letting him know I’m heading out. He’s probably at the local pub, playing poker, and lost track of time.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
Just as I’m about to slip my phone into my bag, it dings with a new message.
Victor: Here!
I grab my purse and shove my e-reader in it. My keys in hand, I double-check that the front door is locked, then I jog down the porch steps to where Victor is waiting in his red pickup truck. The engine is humming, as if it’s just as nervous as I am.
The night is turning out to be more fun than I expected. I’m actually enjoying myself, until our waitress starts shamelessly flirting with Victor. He doesn’t seem to mind it.
In fact, he looks pleased, flashing her a grin and giving her far too much attention for my taste.
It’s only when I roll my eyes, visibly, that he seems to remember I exist. From that moment on, though, he shifts.
Suddenly, he’s all charm. Asking thoughtful questions, listening intently, and nudging me to open up more.
The conversation flows easily after that, like we’ve known each other longer than we have.
“You can’t argue with the Wolf of Wall Street,” Victor tells me between sips of his vanilla milkshake. “That movie is a masterpiece, and it even has a great life lesson in it!”
“What, the dangers of unchecked greed and the importance of ethical conduct in business?” I reply before finishing my caramel frappe. But then, I see the time, 9 p.m. Reaching into my purse for my phone, I freeze when I see two missed calls from dad.
Victor continues to talk about how great his favourite movie is: “You know the true lessons reside in the power of persuasion, and how the movie uses the value of persistence–”, but I am not listening anymore, eyes glued to my phone.
One missed call from ten minutes ago. And the other is only from three minutes earlier.
My stomach drops.
I call back immediately, but it goes straight to voicemail.
“Hey… everything okay?” Victor asks, brows knitted, finally catching up on my mood.
“Yeah, I just need to get home. You know... curfew,” I reply, eyes still fixed on my phone.
“Curfew? Seriously? Can’t you just do what you want?” His smug, dismissive tone makes my skin prickle with unease. I snap my head up, irritation rising too fast to hold back.
“I do what I want. And right now, I want you to drive me home. For the record, that curfew is happening whether you like it or not. They implemented it because of how serious the situation is.” The words cut sharply, slicing through his stupid little smirk.
He doesn’t need to know the new policy doesn’t apply to me.
“Obviously, it’s serious; all those deaths. I was just teasing,” Victor says quickly, hands shooting up like I’ve pulled a gun on him. “Don’t take it so personally, it was a joke. Of course I’ll drive you back.”
The urge to punch him flares so suddenly that my hand literally twitches. Instead, I settle for a flat, hum, except that an ominous feeling makes my hair stand.
We’re nearly to my place, and the silence in the truck is unbearable. The whole drive has been thick with discomfort. Awkward glances, shallow small talk, and that gut-twisting instinct that tells me I should’ve just called a cab.
But no, this was faster, more convenient.
And now I’m regretting it.
As we turn onto the narrow driveway, the woods close in around us. It’s quiet, too quiet. No houses, no streetlights, just the crunch of tires on gravel. I hold my breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. And then, there it is, my house.
I exhale.
Nestled between the trees at the top of the hill, as if it’s grown from the forest itself. And that’s when it hits me, really hits me. I don’t actually know Victor, not really. Not beyond surface-level charm and a carefully rehearsed smile.
And psychos?
They don’t wear signs.
They look completely normal, until they’re not. As he parks, I catch sight of my dad's car, which instantly washes me in relief. Distracted, I don’t pay attention to Victor, and that is a foolish mistake.
He comes closer, his hand crawling up my thigh as his fingers slide slowly higher between my legs—a slithering snake making me shiver with disgust. My body reacts before my brain can fully process the moment. I twist sharply, slapping his filthy hand and shoving him away, seeing red.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I snap, my breath coming fast. Victor laughs, a dry, ugly sound. Like it’s all some big comedy show to him.
“Really? You’re going to tease me all night and then leave without giving anything?” He spits the words at me, his voice sharp, eyes flashing with a dangerous gleam. But I lock my eyes on him, anger steaming out of me.
“That’s exactly what I’m gonna do, good night.”
“Fucking tease,” Victor scoffs under his breath.
“Is that really the best you can do? The overused ‘provocative’ excuse? You’re pathetic. I don’t know what I ever saw in you.” I yank on the door and slam it shut as soon as I am out.
My date doesn’t waste a minute; his truck screeches away with a yelled, “Bitch!”
Dizzy, the adrenaline floods my veins as I climb the porch steps.
I can’t believe I ever thought he was interesting.
Exhaling in annoyance, I touch my forehead, hoping to relieve the tightness in my temples.
Distracted by my thoughts, I don’t immediately notice the front door slightly open.
Freezing in my tracks, an eerie sensation crawls up my spine.
It's the same unsettling feeling I had earlier, in the car, with Van.
My pulse quickens as I slowly push the door to the dark entrance. The air is unnaturally thick.
“D-dad?” My voice trembles slightly.
No response, no sounds to break the stillness.
The silence is deafening, and only the feeling of being watched lingers.
Intensifying as the unease gnaws at my stomach.
Phone in hand, I dial my dad’s number. Within seconds, a soft blue light flickers on the kitchen countertop, casting sinister shadows across the room.
My head snaps up, drawn to a faint creak of the staircase.
It’s a slight weight shift, but enough to make my blood run cold.
I’m not alone.
I feel it deep in my bones, something is horribly wrong.
Without taking my eyes off the staircase, my vision adjusts to the darkness.
Hand shaking slightly, I set my phone down on the entrance table.
Then I force myself to slowly move. I reach for the baseball bat, which is always kept in the corner.
As my fingers tighten around the cold wood, my gaze locks onto a dark shape at the top of the staircase.
It slowly moves closer, close enough for the moon that shines through the window to illuminate the tall figure.
Unnervingly tall.
What the hell is that?
The silhouette looms, easily seven feet in height.
My heart pounds in my chest, my face goes pale as a cold wave of terror crashes over me. I know, with a sickening certainty, that this thing is not human.
I am rooted in place. My eyes remain fixed on the towering figure.
Its long arms hang limp, grotesque, barely brushing the tops of its spindly calves.
The thing looks like something out of a nightmare.
Skin stretched over a framework of raw muscle and bone, a haunting image that’ll forever be etched into my mind.
I can barely breathe, the air heavy with fear, as the silence in the house deepens.
A shriek, sharp and piercing, rips through the quiet. Reverberating off the walls like the cry of some beast from the depths of hell. The creature’s cavernous mouth is now wide open, revealing gleaming rows of razor-sharp teeth, like a shark’s.
In an instant, the creature shifts, dropping onto all fours with terrifying agility, and in the blink of an eye, it’s charging at me, moving at a speed too fast for my mind to fully grasp.
Snapping out of my daze, I let my instinct take hold.
My body moves before I can register it, and I automatically fall into a fighting stance.
There's no time for hesitation, no time to process what the hell is happening.
One thing is clear: it's a life-or-death situation, and I can’t let fear take control.
Just as the beast lunges toward me, I swing the bat with every ounce of strength I have.
The solid thud of impact rings through my bones as it connects with its head.
The force of the blow sends the creature crashing through the wall, leaving a gaping hole in its wake.
Regaining my balance, I snatch my keys from the floor where they had fallen and sprint toward my Jeep.
Every muscle burns as fear propels me forward.
But as I run past the porch, another blood-curdling shriek slices through the air.
The ground trembles. My footing becomes unsteady as the creature follows me.
Halfway to my car, a sudden force slams into me, sending me crashing violently to the ground.
The impact knocks the breath out of me, before blackness swallows me.
The shift in the air stirs me to consciousness.
Blinking the darkness away, I stare up. The monstrous figure looms over me.
Heart in my throat, a guttural snarl resonates from the demon.
Its mouth drips with thick, viscous saliva.
Droplets splatter across my left shoulder, burning through my shirt, leaving me screaming as it hovers closer.
I can’t tear my eyes away from its dead gaze, two soulless pits.
I’m going to die.
This is it.
How the hell do I survive this?
My dad taught me how to fight, sure, but against other people, not... this. This is something so far from human.
Fuck!
No, no, I won’t die.
Think, Avilyna, think!
Without another moment of hesitation, I move.
My hands shoot to the monster’s head, fingers searching for what I know is vulnerable.
The texture is slick, disturbingly soft.
Shoving my thumbs in the creature’s skull with every ounce of strength I have, my fingers dig into the squishy, wet matter beneath them.
It roars, snapping its jaws at me in an attempt to tear me apart, but I hold.
With every ounce of strength I have left, I hold.
Pushing my feet against what I think is its chest, I try to maintain the distance while I shove harder, grinding my thumbs deeper.
I feel something shift, something giving way.
A sickening pop and the demon shrieks, a sound so loud and guttural it rattles through every bone in my body.
A black goo begins to ooze from the holes where its eyes used to be, coating my hands in its putrid liquid.
But the pressure is too much. My grip slips, and I crash to the ground with a thud. The force knocks the breath out of me. Looking up, dazed, my pulse roars in my ears, and smoke curls from the creature’s empty eye sockets.
Without warning, the deafening crack of a shotgun blasts through the air. On impact, the creature disintegrates into a cloud of ash. The pungent, acrid scent of rotten eggs lingers in the air, heavy and bitter. My heart races as I spin around, my head swimming with disbelief.
What the fuck just happened?
At the bottom of the porch stairs, my dad stands like a silhouette against the moon’s dim light. His right hand grips the glowing shotgun, still smoking from firing it. Weird drawings shimmer faintly before dying off the barrel.
My dad’s left arm is wrapped tightly around his middle. His flannel shirt is tinted red, the blood quickly seeping out of his midsection. The overwhelming relief of seeing him collides with the horror of what just happened. His face is pale, jaw tight. For a second, I can’t breathe.
The crash of relief and terror collide all at once.
My dad is hurt.