Once Upon A Midnight Dreary

The safe house Marc told you about was indeed back in London, but you would hardly call it safe. It was more like a warehouse storage unit that he turned into a makeshift military bunker. There was a single cot, and there was no light to be found in the metal box. You looked at him skeptically.

“Where do you live?” He asked, hands on his hips. “I can get you some clothes, stuff that can hold you down until this is all figured out.” You raised a brow and scoffed.

“You expect me to just stay here?? Like hell!” You stood face to face with Marc.

“You said that you’d get me out of here, not trap me in a metal box for who knows how long!” He sighed through his nose at your response before gripping both of your shoulders.

“Kid, you’ve seen firsthand what those assholes are capable of.” He began to reach into his pocket. “Plus, I need you to protect this.” He handed you the golden beetle that you only recently found out was called a scarab. You took it, its wing now nowhere to be found.

Marc only gave you a nod before leaving. After waiting a few burning seconds you yelled in frustration, throwing the scarab on the ground. You were expecting it to break into pieces, but nothing happened. You yelled again before stomping as hard as you could with your converse, it again did nothing. And this time you could feel your foot ignite in pain.

You yelped before falling on your ass, your tailbone screaming in pain as you did. You made a reach for the scarab and held it in your hands.

“Why won't you break?!”

-
-

Marc had come back in the midst of your tantrum- pardon- experiment, with a bag filled with clothes. Some were far too big, and some were too small. If you didn’t know any better you’d think he stole from a forever 21 and called it a day. You snorted as you pulled out a pair of joggers that you knew for sure wouldn’t fit you,
Seems like he stole from his own closet as well.

He had left after throwing the bag to you, saying that he had to give the body back to Steven and to not come looking for him. He said he’d be back around tomorrow night. you had asked him how the hell you were supposed to tell the date and time when you had no phone on you, he then threw a watch that hit you in the arm before walking out. Leaving you to clutch your arm in pain from the heavy steel.

You fell asleep on the uncomfortable makeshift cot. You don’t remember having any recollection of dreaming, but when you awoke it was already the next day, and well into the evening. How tired had you been? You admit, you glided off the side of a mountain and witnessed countless men die; but you’d hardly excuse that for sleeping nearly 17 hours.

You hadn’t woken up on your own terms either, it was a sudden twist of your stomach that caused you to sit up in nausea. You were still blinking away the remnants of sleep, but it was the distant calling of your name that had you wide awake. At first, it sounded far. Like it was miles away from where you were, and then it began to get louder, like nails on a chalkboard. Your name was suddenly yelled directly behind you and you jumped from the cot and onto the floor, scrambling to turn around and look up.

There was nothing there. But if there was nothing there why was your stomach still in knots? Why could you still faintly hear your name being spoken? It was silent. Only for a moment, and your stomach had suddenly been cured of its churning. Then, from what you suspect to be absolutely nowhere, a sudden wind picked up your hair whipping around as it, and in place of your name being spoken against the wind was something else,

“GET OUT!” Yelled the wind. It was enough to cause your legs to go into autopilot, and you soon found yourself nearly flying down the repeat storage unit hallways in fear. What the fuck? What the fuck? You looked back to see if the voice was behind you. But there was nothing, you were about to turn a corner but stopped at the sight of two men at the end of the hall. You could only hold your breath as you came to realize they both held guns, and their sleeves were rolled up. The familiar scale tattoos you’ve now come to fear on either arm.

“Is it really here?” Said one man.

“Harrow said the Scarab was located somewhere near the city. No stone can be left unturned.” The scarab. They were looking for the Scarab. Shit! Where was it? You scrambled for the pockets in the joggers you wore. Your heart sank when the golden scarab fell from your pocket and hit the ground with a clang. A silence wafted suddenly. A silence you can only describe as terrifying. Your stomach churned again.

“RUN!” The unknown voice cracked like Lightning and you grabbed the scarab before running, one of the men already having begun to turn the corner and seeing your running form.

“Hey!” He yelled after you. “Get back here!” But you’d do anything but listen to a cult follower- and so with a quick hand gesture to his partner, the chase for the scarab began.

-
-

You were told specifically to not go looking for Steven. Or Marc. But with the situation you were currently thrusted into, and with the unknown voice yelling at you, you were too sure this had to do with them. What were you supposed to do? Let one of the men shoot you? Like hell! You’d seen and been through a lot in your time on this earth sure, but you refused to go down without a fight. And if that meant, taking down Marc Spector with you then so be it. He got you into this mess in the first place.

You found it hard to catch your breath as you found an entryway to the museum that wasn't the front doors. You knew that what you were doing was quite literally illegal but you- and the newfound voice that likes to yell at you- told yourself that it was for the greater good, and so with a large intake of breath you broke a basement window with the back of your foot as you leaned against a wall. You thanked whatever above for the fact you were tiny enough to fit through it.

Your feet hit the ground with the sound of glass cracking beneath you. You seemed to work yourself into a storage closet, you turned the knob, before realizing it was locked. You huffed in frustration. You knew Steven worked here! And knowing that nerd he probably stays after work! You knew he did. The voice kept telling you to go to the museum. He had to still be here. Your hands trembled in fear.
You hoped he would still be here.

“The Scarab.” The voice suddenly whispered, no longer yelling. You only now realized it sounded soft. Like velvet, like it sensed your unease. You felt a warmth, something you can only describe as a hug from your mother enveloping you as it spoke again. Not that you think you’ve ever received such an embrace from your own mother.

“Use it.” You pulled out the golden beetle, not a scratch on it. Even after all your attempts at destroying it nothing happened. Its wings that had long since lost the traces of your blood from splitting your palm open had suddenly popped out, startling you in the process. You trembled in anticipation as you gripped the Scarab and gave a jab to the doorknob, it instantly fell with the force you gave and you gasped in surprise . The Doorknob left a small hole in the door, the wings of the scarab proved to be small enough to turn it and then,

Click!

You had unlocked the door. The wind that had somehow been following you, threw the door open with a force that even brought you into a sprint. It was as if the wind was guiding you in all the twists and turns of the basement, leading you through a staircase before you were face to face with a disheveled Steven Grant, he paused to look at you for only a moment, about to say something before you were both startled by a loud roar and the crashing of the big double doors behind Steven. You both screamed and Steven ran to the nearest door with his Employee I.D.

You ran into the Museum bathroom with a haste you never knew you had, it was like a hallway lined with sinks on each side. You squished yourself into the corner of the room, hearing the growls of whatever monster may be attempting to break down the door.

“What is that?!” You yelled, your voice going un-naturally high. Steven looked at you with an expression nearly equal to yours.

“How the hell am I supposed to know?!” You opened your mouth to speak but were cut off when Steven’s head suddenly snapped away from you, looking at the mirrors of the bathroom. He looked as though he were speaking to someone, twisting and turning every way in panic as he told whatever voice he was hearing to ‘Leave him alone!”

If you hadn’t known any better you’d think he was yelling at Khonshu, but your stomach wasn’t in knots and the wind around you didn’t suddenly pick up around you. You knew the God was nowhere to be found, so that let only one suspicion that you had. And your suspicion was confirmed when Steven suddenly gave a wry nod and wrappings that belonged to a warrior you know appeared around him. You hadn’t noticed before the glow of his eyes, how they were a near silver; like the moon.

The door to the bathroom busted down with a loud crash and you braced yourself under the sink. You screamed when the Jackal like creature tackled Marc to the ground nearly right next to your face, you scrambled into a crawl and yelped when Marc lifted and arm to the sink you were once cowering under- catching a glimpse of him destroying and ripping it off the wall with just his hand.

You began to crawl faster.

The grunting and struggling, and screeches of the monster are what fueled you to get the hell out, you ere ready to leave your crawl space and book it for the door, but you were stopped when the jackal was suddenly thrown hard against the wall outside. You froze in fear,, watching as the monster got up and growled, it had hair that was white and eyes that nearly matched it. It’s skin wa cracked and brown, and it looked nearly like a person when it stood at full height; But upon looking closer it was anything but that

The monster lunged for you. You were paralyzed to your spot on the ground, your mouth open but throat too raw to let anything else come out of it. For the second time, Marc Spector saved your life as he punched the monster in the throat and sent it flying back once more, he grunted as he ripped the sink across from the one you were under off the wall and walked out into the hallway. By then you had tuned everything out, a loud ringing in your ear beginning to make itself at home in your head. It hurt like hell and it felt as though your head was going to explode. You squeezed your eyes shut and waited for it to end. Hoping that it would end.

You were ripped from your stupor when someone grabbed you by the arm rather roughly and pulled you to your feet, your eyes snapped open to and unmasked Marc. You haven’t known the man for long but you knew that he was. Hell, he looked beyond mad; he looked livid . Could you even blame him though? You had deliberately gone against what he had asked you and left the metal box he trapped you in. You were technically chased out, yes, but you broke his trust nonetheless . You hung your head and began to open your mouth,

“I’m sorry-“ but you were cut off by his yelling.

“What the hell were you thinking kid?! You don’t even know what could’ve happened had you not run into Steven. And that too! I told you not to go near him anymore.” He yelled at you as if you were a bratty toddler. You fumed under his glare. It was not your fault.

“ I told you I didn’t want to be left in that stupid metal box!”

“ I told you to protect the scarab.”

“ And I did!” He was gripping you by the shoulders now, breathing heavily with anger as you both stared each other down, the brown of eyes looking nowhere near nice.

“Why’d you do it kid?” He licked his cracked lips.

“Do what?” You knew what he meant but you knew you couldn’t tell him you were chased out.

“Why did you leave the Storage unit and find Steven?” Shit. You were trapped. You had to come up with something, and quickly .

“Why do you care about Steven knowing about you anymore? It’s obvious he’s aware of your presence now.” You tried to change the subject.

“Stop trying to change the subject.” Shit. You gulped. You didn’t know what to say. There was no way for you lie with something like this, so you simply looked down. Losing the battle you had started.

“I’m sorry.” You said again. Marc huffed before letting your shoulders go.

“Whatever kid. Let’s go.” He grabbed your wrist, you only just noticed now that his suit was gone and was replaced with Stevens clothes. It looked strange, considering you’d seen and spoken to the mousy man a few times, and although this was the same body, same face and clothes, it was a completely different personality controlling it. It felt weird. It felt alien.

You made no attempts in protests as Marc dragged you back to the Storage Unit. You were forced to prove to him you still had the Scarab before he left. You did, and like that he told you to stay put before leaving. You chose not to tell him about harrow. They had found you running amok in the unit but they hadn’t found where Marc’s was- but that still didn’t mean you were safe. So, with a change of clothes you laced up your converse and just about ran out of the unit. You couldn’t go home, you knew you couldn’t. So you went to the only place you could think of, It was nearby and your best bet at sanctuary.

It was only when you had hopped onto the bus that you began to panic. Cursing under your breath as you frantically began to pat down the pockets of your pants. In your haste to leave the unit you had forgotten the thing that started this mess.

The fucking Scarab. You laughed internally. Marc is going to murder you.

You hesitantly pressed the rustic doorbell. Its button was golden with how many people had pressed it over the years. In all reality, this was more like the home of a friend of a friend. You had known her before the blip, having worked alongside her with your father. When you came back however you found that her and your brother Charlie were friends. You hung out for the holidays and that was how you were better acquainted with her. She had told you herself that if you ever needed a place to stay her door was always open. You hoped she meant it because as the door cracked, being held by a small gold chain.You could see the shock written on her face.

“Hi Layla….” You spoke warily, knowing that your sudden drop in was very surprising and very weird. The curly haired woman acknowledged you after staring at you as if she’d seen a ghost, she stumbled over her words before saying your name and pulling the door closed. The chain clicked out of place as the door was now fully opened.

“W-what are you doing here?” She said, confused. You bit your lip in thought as you looked around, you were trying your hardest to be careful on the trip over, you knew you could possibly be followed and discussing why you were suddenly at Layla’s house wasn’t exactly something you wanted to talk about in the open.

“ Um-uh- I’d rather um-“ you cleared your throat and looked down, kicking a stray pebble on the ground with the tip of your shoe.

“I’d rather talk about it inside, if that’s alright with you.” You looked back up and Layla looked into your eyes before nodding with a ‘yea, yes of course’ And that was how you managed to weasel your way into Layla El-fouly’s home.

-
-
It had been late in the night when you appeared at Layla’s doorstep, to her you had appeared shaken. So she set you up on the couch and bid you goodnight. Her leather couch definitely wouldn’t have been your first choice when it came to sleeping somewhere but it was definitely better than the uncomfortable and blanket-less cot Marc had set up in that storage unit. At least here Layla layered you with a number of fluffy and heavy blankets. You normally had. Horrible time trying to fall asleep. But with it being the butt-crack of dawn and after nearly dying for the second time, plus the added weight of Layla’s weird looking tiger blanket; you were down for the count.

You awoke to the smell of breakfast cooking, something you hadn’t smelled in a long while. You were nearly confused on where you were when you looked around the rustic looking relics and artifacts from different cultures on the coffee table. You got up and looked at a set of snow globes that were displayed on top of the fireplace right under the TV. You picked up the snow globe that said New York on it, a miniature Statue of Liberty standing tall and high was in it, you gently shook it and watched as the tiny flakes that were meant to mimic snow flew around the statue's head.

“Do you like it?” You nearly dropped the Snow globe at the sound of Layla’s voice from behind you, you caught yourself before you left your hand slip with your left hand, now clutching the globe to your chest as you laughed awkwardly.

“Sorry you scared me, but um- yea I do. I’ve seen people collect Snow Globes before and have always thought they were cute.” You held it up in admiration. Layla nodded with a smile

“You can have it if you’d like. I happen to be one of those people who collects them and have boxes-“ she pointed to an open box that was hidden between the fireplace and bookshelf, its lids were open and white packing peanuts were scattered everywhere.

“Filled with them. It would do some good to get rid of a few.” You held the globe and looked at her in awe before nodding to her words. For the amount of time you’ve known Layla, you know to never try not to accept a gift from her. It was quite literally impossible, she’d find a way to somehow sneak it into your jacket if you refused. You learned after having spent Christmas with her and seeing the expensive Dior Lipstick she got you. You knew your brother was the one who told her about your liking for the brand, he was the only one you told after all. But it was so expensive! You tried to politely turn down the gift, but you woke up the next day and were on the flight back to London when your niece Anne said she forgot to give you something and pulled the exact lipstick from her hello kitty bag.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful “ and you meant it. Snow globes were very beautiful, if it weren’t for the fact that you were barely home as is and felt like an alien in your home you might’ve collected them as a kid. You remember always admiring them at zoos and gift shops.

Layla led you to her kitchen where there sat an island-like bar, you put your snow globe on the table before jumping on the high stool.

“So what’s for breakfast?” You crossed your arms over your chest with a smile. Layla chuckled while taking a pancake out of the pan and throwing it onto a plate that had eggs and bacon on it.

“More like brunch.” She motioned her hip to the stove that held the time on top of it. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head when you saw the time was nearly three in the afternoon.

“Holy shit- I slept for so long I’m so sorry-“ But Layla cut you off with a wave as she put the plate of food in front of you, moving to grab a cup and also placing it for you.

“It’s fine” she said your name as she reached into the refrigerator “It really is, I mean it's expected with how late you showed up. And you looked so” she closed the fridge door and faced you with a gallon of freshly squeezed orange juice in her hand.

“Frazzled.” She looked up at you warily as she poured the juice into the glass cup.

“You wanna talk about it? “ you slowly shook your head no. Layla knew of your at home situation- hell she knew about the whole situation of your whole life’s work being stolen from you upon coming back from the blip. The reason why she told you her door was always open was because she knew your parents were always gone. That you were always alone, and that Charlie had a busy life as an archeologist. If it had been something at home that you to her doorstep in the heart of the night you're afraid you might’ve cracked. But this was no at home situation. You held a target on your back that only members of a disgusting cult noticed, and were also some kind of strange beacon for Egyptian gods.

You couldn’t just drop a big load like that on Layla. She’d probably declare you as insane and call the police, or even worse, Charlie. You knew he couldn’t be bothered right now- you had no clue as to where he was only knowing that he was quite literally halfway across the world. You can’t trouble him with your- religion problems.

You could tell Layla was about to speak before you were both interrupted by a ping coming from Layla’s phone on the counter in between you two. You only caught a quick glimpse of the notification, quickly reading it from upside down and only seeing one word that made your heart fall to your ass.

Marc. You couldn’t see what else it said as Layla snatched her phone while cursing under her breath. You tried to ignore the pit forming in your stomachs by drinking some of the orange juice and taking a bite of the food Layla made you. It couldn’t possibly be the same Marc. Marc was a common name wasn't it? Sure, it was spelled with a c and not a k but it was still common? Wasn’t it ? It can’t be the same Marc. It’s not. You're just paranoid and going crazy. You’ve finally lost your marbles.

But it wouldn’t hurt to test the waters would it? You gave a fake chuckle into the cup.

“I know a Marc too. He’s such a big grump” Layla looked up from her phone and smiled in response.
“I guess all Marc’s are like that then, because he’s the exact same.” She shook her head. “ I’m so glad I never took his last name, I’d rather die than be forever nicknamed Mrs. Spector.” This time you truly felt your soul leave your body. You thank whatever above for the fact you weren’t holding anything in your hands. Your stomach began to churn uncomfortably and you found yourself suddenly curling into a ball. Anxiety?

“Are you all right?” Layla leaned over the counter and you nodded in response, about to open your mouth to confirm that you were perfectly fine. But you were cut off with another painful twist of your insides.

“Where’s your bathroom?” You managed to squeak out. Layla pointed you in the direction and you sprinted to the bathroom and shut the door. You groaned in pain, sweat beginning to build all throughout your body as you curled in on yourself on the ground of Layla’s restroom floor. You opened your mouth in a soundless scream as your stomach twisted painfully again, the wind suddenly picking up around you, you gave a groan of frustration, really? Out of all the times to be bothered now? You shook your head to the side of Layla’s tub that you were currently trying to sit up against.

“What-“ you whispered out into the empty room.

“What do you want?” You looked around the room, there was nothing but the sink and toilet next to where you sat, a small shelf for toiletries hanging above you. It was silent sans the sounds of your heavy breathing echoing loudly in your ears. But you weren’t stupid, you knew you weren’t the only one in the room. You could feel it, the presence of another. A being you think, one that may or may not be like Khonshu.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up in a shiver as you sensed the presence begin to move, holding your breath as it seemed to place itself right in front of you.

“You disobeyed.” The words suddenly rang through the air and you hung your head in response. What the hell were they talking about? Disobeyed what?

“You need to leave.” You angled your head to the empty bathroom, you wanted to be mad. Frustrated even, but you knew that you couldn’t. The voice was right, somehow someway Layla knew Marc. The Marc that had saved you life two times now. The Marc who you promised to stay in the bunker and protect the Scarab. You felt a weight in your chest. The Scarab you had forgotten. The voice was right, you needed to leave, to get away from Layla. She had been wearing the same sweater from yesterday when you first knocked on her door so you couldn’t get a glimpse of her arms, you knew that she was your friend. But if she wasn’t Marc’s that meant bad luck for you, and it was like hell you’d get caught up in Arthur’s cult after escaping.

“Find him.” You looked around the bathroom frantically, and on the wall of where the bathtub sat was a window, a long one. One that you believed you could fit your tiny teenage self through, and so with the help of the unknown deity you escaped Layla’s home and nearly sprained your ankle. You were energized now, having rested well and ate some of Layla’s food. You hopped on the bus that you knew would take you back to the place you ran from.

You could only hope Marc hadn’t noticed your disappearance.

-
-

You sprinted down the twisting hallways of the eerie storage unit, hoping to find the one Marc had attempted to lock you in. But you were met with an unpleasant surprise when you ran head first into the chest of none other than Mr. Steven Grant. The man Marc had specifically told you to quit bothering. He looked frantic and clutched what looked like a Gym bag to his chest.

“Steven?” You asked, instantly recognizing the expression as one Marc would never wear. His eyes widened at the sight of you and he began to stumble over his words. However Stevens gaze was quickly diverted away from you and behind you to the thing that kept flickering with the shadows.

You noticed how the lights above you buzzed strangely, turning around to meet stevens gaze as the lights suddenly turned off. You instantly reached to grab Steven by the arm. The light then flickered back to life and you were both met with a shadow of the God Marc serves, you nearly had half a nerve to tell him off for trying to scare you but Steven screamed before giving you the chance. He gripped you by the wrist and bolted out of the unit, you nearly tripped at least twice and kept yelling at him to slow down each time. It was just Khonshu! The stupid bird was probably laughing his bones off after seeing Steven run.

The man still had Marc’s grip though, and despite your futile attempts at breaking free from his hold it proved to be useless. You knew you’d be running with him until he found the exit. And that you did, he finally let go when you tugged in a specific way that twisted his arm. He yelped in pain, but you were finally free. Steven turned to you.

“What’s wrong with you?! We have to go! Cmon now-“ and he made a reach for you again but you pulled away.

“No Steven!” You took a deep breath “what did you find in there?” You prayed the scarab wasn’t stolen by Harrow’s cult. You walked closer to Steven who looked like a scared mouse. “Do you have it?”

Steven backed away and shook his head.
“H-have what?” You took another step forward

“The scarab-“ but your interrogation was cut short when Steven backed away with one more stepped and didn’t realize the road was right behind him, he tumbled to the ground and you gasped as someone on a Motorcycle suddenly came speeding right towards where Steven was. You froze in your spot thinking that you were about to witness the man get run over, not knowing what do as they came closer and suddenly stopped right in front of Steven.

He seemed just as scared as you as he sat up. The rider wore a helmet and a jacket who’s sleeves were rolled up to their elbows. The window that allowed the rider to see was lifted up and you were met with a surprise when you recognized the women.

“Layla?” Both you and Steven had said in Unison. With the same tone of voice and everything, however, Layla didn’t acknowledge Steven first. She took off her helmet and looked at you.

“Why are you with Marc?” She said, Her tone was obviously angry and you nearly winced at it. You knew she was mad. And she had every right to be, you weirdly left to the bathroom after she mentioned her ex-husband and then disappeared only to reappear standing right next to him.

“Layla it’s a long story-“ but she stopped you mid sentence, that seemed to happen a lot these days.

“Great. You can tell me on the drive. Get on. You to Marc.” She looked at Steven who had still been sitting on the ground throughout your interaction with Layla, clutching the bag and switching between person to person in absolute confusion.

“So you know about the Scarab? The one that-“ you cut her off

“Will you lead to Amit’s tomb? Yes. Do you know about the cult?-“

“The cult that also desperately wants the Scarab? Of course I do. How do you know about them?” You gulped as you could feel her tense around you. As of now, you were on Layla’s motorcycle. She claimed that you were tiny enough to fit in front of her and Steven would ride behind her. You thought about how something like this was definitely illegal, then you remembered that you’ve been spending the last couple of days with a literal Vigilante.

“I was on a business trip with Paul. He wanted to cut a deal with their leader and-“ you paused as you bit your lip. Trying to think of the best way to phrase that you had an angry cult after, angry god after you, and that her ex-husband was a superhero . Maybe you shouldn’t tell her, she probably doesn’t even know. Does she know he’s also a mercenary? Oh cheese. There are tons of things between these two that you realize they might not know about the other. Like how Layla deals artifacts on the black market like a middle eastern Robin Hood. It was definitely not your place to bring anything up, and the entire ride Steven was completely silent.

“They were just strange. They all had the same scale tattoo on the exact same arm and kept talking about this Goddess. I thought it was just odd behavior until they sacrificed someone in the name of her right in front of a crowd of people.”

“Oh my god” she said your name in shock, angling her head slightly down to look at you. She had given you her helmet to wear and you had the window of it flipped up and gave a nod even though the thing made you feel like a bobble head.

Layla stopped at a light and put her foot on the ground to stable the bike.

“Is Paul still there?” You nodded once more.

“So now there after you.” Another nod.

“Are you two talking about those weird cultists? The-the one that praises Amit or whatever.” Steven had suddenly butt in and Layla turned to him.

“Marc, can you please just not? I actually have to talk to you about something else after I drop this one off.” She gestured to you, you began to turn to look at her in shock but were stopped when the light turned green and Layla kicked the Motorcycle back into place

“Dropping me off?? Where are you dropping me off??” You found that Layla didn’t even need to respond as she turned into the neighborhood she lived in and stopped in front of her home. You were able to look at her now.

“Stay here alright? I know you probably don’t want to but-“

“Your right” you seethed as you took the helmet off. Layla’s brown furrowed at you. You knew better than to make her mad, unlike Marc Spector Layla actually did scare you. You sucked your teeth in annoyance before hopping off the bike.

“Keys under the door!” And with that Layla drove away with Steven. You had no clue what would happen between them, yet another thing you were unsure if Layla knew or not; was she aware of Marc’s identity disorder? You feel bad for her. From the looks and sounds of it you're pretty sure she didn’t know where Marc had been these last few days. You knew she was married for a while . And here you are probably knowing more about her own husband in the timespan of three days compared to her that was probably lied to for half her marriage. You hoped they could clear whatever strange air they had between them.

You also knew that you could trust Layla now. She was working against the cult, not with them. And that sure was a relief. Maybe you truly could rest in Layla’s home, you're aware that you haven’t known a day of rest since everything that’s happened. And you realize that the weight of the world suddenly crashes on you once you sink into Layla’s leather couch with a movie in the background.

Paul, your twin brother Paul, was roped into a cult. Your brother Charlie was quite literally off the grid, and your parents were in whatever country ignoring you. Layla was with Steven- or Marc. And you were back right where you began. Alone. Your mind plays back the day you had escaped with Marc from Harrow. You didn’t realize until now just how scary some of the stuff you saw was, the sight of Stevens bloody hands on the wheel, the multiple men with guns chasing after you two. The way Marc brutally shot a man dead. The sight of Khonshu for the very first time and the churning of your stomach that you felt whenever he or the other unknown deity was near. You had no clue where your phone was, you probably left it with the rest of your useless belongings at the village Harrow resided in. You figure that Renee and Billy have probably blown up your phone by now, either that or they chose to left you alone because of your ‘Business trip.’ You don’t know how you’d feel if you opened your phone to zero messages or calls.

You don’t even know why you have a phone, in all honesty you hardly even use it. Another reason as to why you don’t care that much about leaving it. You don't care about your clothes either, you hated them anyway. Now that you think about it, you never thought of anything you owned as valuable. You Like to think that if there were a house fire you’d be fine with escaping with just your life. You sat up on the couch and approached Layla’s island. The food you ate from earlier was gone, but the snow globe she gifted you was still in the exact same place you left it in. You picked it up, lady liberty still holding her torch with pride. You had been to New York before, but you never got the chance to really be a tourist. Perhaps, after this all ended you could go. Maybe you could even invite Layla and take a picture in front of the statue that the globe was mimicking.

You were so mesmerized by the globe and its falling snowflakes that you ignored the churning in your stomach that began. Simply wishing to savor the moment with the object in your hands, how for some reason looking at it gave you comfort. If only you headed the warning that was the sting of your intestines, then maybe you wouldn’t have turned around so late, maybe you would have noticed the men that broke into Layla’s house, and maybe you would’ve lessened the damage that a crowbar was to cause to the side of your face. You heard a loud thunk before everything began to go dark, your eyes stinging with tears and attempting to blink them away to see. It felt like you were watching the world through someone else’s body, like you had no control over yourself falling to the ground, or to your hands going limp and dropping the Snow Globe Layla had so graciously gifted you.

You heard the shattering of it as if it were muffled, like your head was dunked under water, you rolled over on your side and reached for the now shattered pieces of glass, Lady liberty having fallen on her side and facing you directly. You could feel your hands becoming wet with the water that was kept inside the globe, desperately trying to grab whatever you could with your single functioning hand. You don’t know where your other one went, for some reason you couldn’t control or feel it. Just like your legs.You think it was the blow to your head, voices were muffled around you. You couldn’t make out what they were saying, but you could feel when one of them grabbed you by your midsection, beginning to lift your fallen form from the ground. You could feel yourself moving in protest, you could feel your mouth open and felt the vibrations of your voice, but strangely enough not being able to hear it properly. You remember looking down at the arm wrapped around your waist, seeing the scale tattoo that you wished death upon.

Even in your slow-motion state you refused to go down without a fight and jabbed your elbow into the gut of whoever held you, you were violently thrown to the ground in return and you groaned upon impact. Now the room truly felt as if it were spinning as the person from before grabbed a handful of your hair and lifted your head up, their other hand coming around your neck and forcing you up into a headlock. You think your nose might have been bleeding as well, you were already being choked as is but when you opened your mouth all that entered was blood. You could feel your heart pounding with fear, if you didn’t pass out from this stranger strangling you then you’d choke on your own blood. You felt the fat hot tears begin to roll down your face as the room began to go dark.

Your nightmares truly do have a habit of becoming a reality.