okay so i kinda lied about the "action kicking up in chapter four" thing. the only thing that kicks up in this chapter is the awkwardness between 2 characters

-𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓽𝔂

✘ - ✘ - ✘

There was a cabin in the woods. It had been completely deserted, to make a long story short. 

Once, lifetimes ago, a couple had lived there. They never had any children; it was just a wife and a husband. The wife and the husband had spent years building that cabin themselves, from the ground up. They lost all contact with friends and family.

At last, years of hard work later, the cabin was completed. The two were very happy. Or so it seemed.

In reality, their marriage had been a hell storm from start to finish. The husband worked so many "late nights" that the wife lost track of what time he really got off work. The wife had been late to her own wedding, busy with her side piece--another woman.

Towards their ends, they didn't even sleep in the same bed.

Perhaps the wife tried to rekindle, and the husband refused. Perhaps they'd simply had enough, and the husband had run away. No one knows for sure what happened.

But when the husband went missing, no one was really surprised.

The most common theory was, of course, his murder. Everyone suspected the wife of killing him. But there was no evidence that could prove anything. There was hardly any proof that the husband had existed in the first place.

It was said that the cabin was haunted, once the wife died. For years, teenagers went against their parents' words to visit the cabin in the middle of the night.

But no one ever saw anything. 

And as such, the rumors died. Teenagers, upset over not running into any ghosts, stopped visiting. Stopped daring each other to spend the night. Stopped bringing their Ouija boards. Stopped with their candles and chalk-drawings and stopped with their chanting in the bathroom mirrors.

The cabin was just about forgotten.

Until now.

♠♦♣♥

Aisha had taken the lead, being the only one brave enough to do so. Or maybe the only one stupid enough to do so. However, Lucia was directly behind her.

Evan had a death grip on whichever unfortunate soul had happened to be closest to him. That unfortunate soul had been Wyatte. He protested at first, but had since given up. Neither of them would ever admit it, but they were both absolutely terrified.

The group stopped in the living room.

"How are we going about this? What are we going to do?" Arthur asked.

"We should split up," Lucia replied immediately, "We can cover more ground that wa--"

"Not to rain on your parade," Wyatte interrupted, with Evan still clinging to his side. "But that might just be the worst idea ever. Splitting up is the most surefire way to get all of us killed."

 "I didn't mean that, obviously! I meant split into groups. There's seven of us, so we'll break into two groups of two, and one group of three. So that no one's alone."

"Fine by me," Arthur said. "But who's going with who?"

"I'm sticking with Evan, no matter what!" Sam said, putting her foot down.

"Okay, then Lance go with Sam and Evan. That's our group of three."

Sam just about choked, but everyone was too busy too notice. Wyatte was gently trying to pry Evan's fingers off of him, but Evan was not having any of that. Sam, trying to distract herself, hurried over to help.

"Then, Arthur? Do you mind going with Aisha?" Lucia suggested, "Which leaves... me and Wyatte?"

Lucia had not intended for it to work out that way, but she figured it could be useful. Wyatte had been the one to discover Rosaleen, after all.

"Me and Arthur can check the basement, if that's okay?" Aisha said, looking at Arthur for his approval. He nodded.

"Lance and Evan, how about we take the ground floor, since it's the biggest and we have three people?" Sam recommended.

Which meant Lucia and Wyatte took the second floor. Wyatte, free of Evan's grasp, took his time going up the stairs. Every step creaked and sunk dangerously, just about ready to collapse under his feet. Lucia waited patiently at the bottom, not wanting to put too much weight on the fragile stairs.

Soon enough, both Lucia and Wyatte were on the second floor.

And every one was separated.

At the top of the stairs was a long hallway, doors all along on both sides. Dust coated absolutely everything from top to bottom, including but not limited to the furniture, the paintings, the walls, and the floor.

Wyatte made a muffled comment about how it looked like something directly out of the Shining, but Lucia was distracted. She dropped to a crouch, staring at the floor.

"There's footprints in the dust here. Lots of them," she commented, and suddenly Wyatte was on the ground next to her.

"Well, then," Wyatte suggested, "Let's follow them."

Lucia nodded, and their hunt began. It wasn't a very long hunt, but they very quickly realized that whoever left these footprints was not going for a leisurely stroll. A door had nearly been ripped of its hinges, and several small tables and chairs had been knocked over along the trail.

Both of them understood what this meant. They were Rosaleen's footprints.

They came across a room. It looked kind of like a study, if Lucia had to guess from the excessive amounts of books and the desk in the corner.

Wyatte and Lucia took a break from following the footsteps to search the room. As they searched, Lucia turned to small talk. She didn't really know very much about Wyatte, aside from... well. She wasn't exactly sure that he was the kind of person that would want to talk to someone like her, but there wasn't much harm in trying, was there?

"So," she said suddenly, noticing as his head snapped over to her, "tell me about yourself."

"Uhhh," Wyatte hesitated, "...what do you want to know?"

"I don't know...! I feel like if we're going to be solving a murder together, we should know each other a little bit!"

"I--I guess I see your point. But what do you want me to say? I'm not-- I'm not interesting in the slightest."

Both of them went quiet for a moment, before Lucia blurted out the first thing that popped into her head.

"How are you and, uh, him? How are you two doing? You know--"

"Shut. Up."

Wyatte's face had gone completely red, and he was very, very glad Lucia couldn't see it in the darkness.

"I was only asking! I didn't mean it like--"

"Yeah, well, I'm answering," Wyatte hissed, slamming a drawer with a lot more force than necessary. "We're great, perfectly fine. Aside from the fact that he has not spoken to me or answered a single one of my texts in two weeks, we're doing well."

"...sorry."

They continued to search in dead silence.

The room had nothing of interest in it. 

However, there was a glass door that led to the second story balcony, and Wyatte's face went pale the moment he opened it. Quickly looking away from Lucia so she wouldn't see, he stepped onto the balcony. 

The entire thing was stained a deep red color. The balcony's railing had been broken on one side. Beneath it, there was a white outline in the grass.

Wyatte was grabbing onto one of the railings, clutching onto it so hard that his knuckles had turned white and his hand was shaking as he stared downwards.

"Are you... Are you okay?" Lucia asked, noticing this.

"No," Wyatte's voice was low.

"What is it? Do we need to go back inside? Are you scared of heights?"

"That's where she was. Right down there," Wyatte said, shaking his head, "I'm not scared of heights."

"I'm scared of finding dead bodies in the forest...!"

✘ - ✘ - ✘