[New update because why not??]

Stay Creepy, My Friends!~

Chapter 2

Ben's POV

It's kind of crappy that wraiths don't need sleep. I mean, I can still sleep, but I don't need it. There are times when I just want to sleep forever and dream about, I don't know, fluffy dogs with berets and Australian accents despite that they look French with the beret. It's hard for me to dream, though, and when they do come, I like to remember them as much as I can.

I want sleep. I want to just see blackness for a little while. And if I dream, even better...! But, my mind and body are too rattled with emotions that sleep won't come to me. The constant reminders of what life is right now sink into me when there's nothing else to do.

It's been a year since everything changed again. Ao has become the head of the mansion, as far as it looks. She's grown from that sweet girl I first met, and from the broken person she was after everything went to shit, into a strong, completely capable woman. You could barely distinguish her current self with her old self a year ago.  But she's still kind, still caring, and still the geek she was, though she doesn't get to have those geek moments as often as she used to.

Jack is still by her side, being like an advisor and helping her out. He's even scarier than he used to be, but not to a level that he's cold towards everyone at the mansion. He's become more talkative; more open. Whenever I'm out with him on a mission to exterminate Corrupted, he's relentless. His wendigo side comes out more often than it did before, making him the ultimate beast that I wouldn't even fuck with...

Ms. P is also still here, helping Ao from the mansion, giving her more magic lessons and such. She takes care of Sally and Ladon, who has already grown to the size of a lion and makes a mess of the mansion when he scurries around too much. He's made good friends with Smile and Grinny, and there always has to be someone keeping watch of them, especially if Sally is involved (and Charlie, who can forget that little shit).

Masky and Hoodie are back to their previous routine: leaving the mansion for a few days, coming back, then leaving again. They've mostly been scouting, trying to find Elizabeth. That's all we've been doing this past year. Since the mansion is physical in most forests in the country, yet still transcendent, it's easy for us to look in different spots. Yet even with that advantage, no trace of Ellie has been found.

And then there's Jeff.

My jobs include running errands for everyone, going on short scouting missions, exterminating Corrupted in nearby towns and cities, and taking care of Jeff. The brunt of all of my stress mostly stems from him. He's still the scarred up, traumatized man he was a year ago, but he's become colder now, less empathetic. The words that come from his mouth are either full of spite or sarcasm, and nothing seems to change his attitude. But, his bitter personality is better than when he isn't on medication.

When he doesn't take his pills, he's erratic, twitchy, and more temperamental. So temperamental that even the quiet shuffle of fabric can piss him off. I've learned to recognize the signs of this behavior: quiet muttering, fidgeting, the need to pace around, biting his nails. Sometimes outbursts just happen without warning. But when he isn't aggressive towards others (mostly me), he's aggressive towards himself.

Multiple times already he has attempted to kill himself, and at the very least, he'll hurt himself. He's tried various methods, some of them being scarily creative. From trying to stab himself with a fork, to smashing his head into the bathroom mirror, he's done it all. I'm there every time to keep him alive, or to keep him from giving himself any wounds at all. The medication we give him is what's keeping him in line, keeping him just sane enough. Although he's a far more cynical man, he's alive and healthy. But, the same can't exactly be said for his mind and heart.

And, me? I'm just here, staring up at my bedroom ceiling, begging myself to fall asleep.

I'm just here.

...

Reese's POV

Mom's birthday was pleasant and casual and we finished off the day watching our favorite movies, eating popcorn and birthday cake. Hunter and Mom ended up crashing out on the couch together, leaving me staying up by myself. After turning off the movie player and TV, I grabbed some blankets and gently placed them on the snoozing pair. I took all of the leftover dishes to the kitchen to quietly place them in the sink, then headed for my room.

I didn't bother to turn on the lights. The city lights coming through my window were enough, and I set myself down on a bluish beam that crossed my bed. The ceiling was mostly darkness above me, and I imagined the glow-in-the-dark stars staring back at me.

Taking a deep breath, I turned over onto my side and glanced at the alarm clock on my nightstand. 12:03am. I should go to sleep soon. Tiredly, I dragged one of my pillows to me, holding it close as I stuffed my face into it. After having my eyes closed and listening to the quiet sounds of the world beyond my window, I fell asleep. This time, no nightmares--only blackness.

...

The next day was a Wednesday, and Hunter dropped me off at school again. He had a talk with me during the drive, which led me to seek out the student I had punched yesterday and apologize. Of course, the guy didn't take it easily so I just left him to his own.

Everything today was the usual: classes, lunch period, a couple of more classes, then it's over. When I left out of the front entrance, I sat at a certain spot on the lawn and waited for Hunter to pick me up. I took out my phone from my hoodie pocket and went on social media to pass the time. While I was scrolling through, I saw an interesting post and decided to read it.

It was a short article describing the completion of the rebuilding of the TIRACorp facility in Virginia. I was surprised that they managed to save that place within a year. I know that 10 hours after the initial bombing on it, it ended up losing its stability and half of it collapsed. I remember hearing about the news and seeing articles and posts about it everywhere, how it was a national tragedy and 'a tragedy to the world of science'. The good thing is not many people had died, and the rest were just injured or completely unharmed. They're not opening the building up just yet, but many people seem to be glad it's repaired.

In the comments of the post, people were giving congrats, others were unaware that the place would even be saved. Some commenters kept asking about the 'Lady in White'. That name didn't ring a bell until I really thought about it. Along with the bombings, security feed from other buildings around TIRACorp caught footage of a feminine figure invading the place, dressed in white and wearing a mask. Unfortunately, there was never an instance that she took the mask off, leaving her as unknown and mysterious as a ghost. None of the commenters' queries were answered, only agreed with. And so the 'Lady in White' continues to be illusive.

After waiting around for a few more minutes, I spotted Hunter's car coming up to the school gates. I picked myself up from the grass and walked towards the pick-up line.

"How was school?" my brother asked as soon as I sat in the passenger's seat and closed the door.

"Eh," I replied, clicking my seatbelt in place.

"Understandable," he replied casually.

"How was school for you?" I asked.

Hunter shrugged his shoulders and answered, "Eh."

I smirked. "Understandable."

...

Just like Hunter, I also have a job to go to after school, but only on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I'd go everyday if I had to, but I like my days off. Though if I didn't have those days, I would still enjoy my job.

Hunter dropped me off in front of an auto shop, telling me he'd pick me up again later as I exited the Corolla. He drove away as I walked through the open garage door where sounds of scratching metal and screeching echoed from.

"Hey, ruski, I'm back," I announced as I banged on a steel beam to cut through the horrendous, ear-piercing sounds. A few seconds later, the noise stopped and a man stepped out from behind a car. He pulled up the welder's mask he wore and said in a light Russian accent, "I told you not to call me that."

"But Artem sounds too 'eh'," I remarked jokingly as I walked into the office nearby to toss my backpack in a corner. I slipped off my green hoodie and hung it up on a mounted coat rack on the wall. I grabbed my auto shop uniform from the closet behind me and slipped it on over my clothes. While I zipped up, Artem came into the office, the welder's mask sitting in his hands.

"My mother gave me that name," he deadpanned.

"And I'm sure your mother had good intentions when naming you," I jested. The tall, brown haired, Russian only rolled his eyes and asked, "How was school today, soplyak?"

"Oh, you know," I started as I sauntered out of the office, "the usual stuff."

"I remember it was your mother's birthday yesterday," Artem retorted, walking out with me. "Tell her feliz cumple...um, that phrase."

"She speaks English, Art," I said.

"Well, I know, just...you know--anyway, work on that car from the other day," he stammered.

"Got it." I dashed over to the blue car sitting on top of the lift rack.

"No running," Art warned me.

"I'll be fine!"

He put the welder's mask back on and said, "The day you slip and fall, I will only laugh at you."

"You laugh at me anyway," I muttered.

"True. Get to work."

I chuckled and walked to a nearby toolbox to get the tools I needed. Artem began with the metal scraping from earlier, and it wasn't until now that I could see he was taking off a dented front bumper of a sedan, having to cut it off because it was so twisted.

Artem Kuznetsov is the owner of this auto shop. He's had it for over eight years now and its business is well-off. He immigrated from Russia when he was six years old and has lived here in Indiana since. One word to describe him would have to be "tough". The guy barely shows any emotion, and when he does, it's because he's annoyed or mildly amused. His sense of humor has been lacking throughout his twenty-nine years of life; he's rude, blunt, satirical, and as terrifying as a tempest when he's pissed off. He's fuckin' cool.

The work at the auto shop is good, despite that I'm only a part-time employee. My jobs are small, compared to Art's. I change oil, attach new tires, clean the shop, clean tools and parts, and help fill out diagnostic sheets and paper work when Artem is busy with other things. The guy does pretty much everything else around here, and it's a wonder how he manages by himself. We used to have another employee here, but then Art found out he was stealing from us so he kicked his ass out of the shop. Literally. It's just the two of us now. (I never liked that other worker anyway.)

The reason I'm able to have a job here is because Hunter used to work for Artem. The Russian man doesn't tend to like people a lot, but Hunter was an exception, so I was able to land a job easily when Hunter suggested me. Granted, unlike Hunter, I'm a sarcastic, taunting asshole that tends to get on Art's nerves, but he still likes me.

Using a wrench, I hit it against the toolbox to get Artem's attention again.

"What?" he grumbled as soon as the noises stopped.

"When are you gonna take me back into the ring?" I inquired, raising my arms up to change out the oil of the car above me.

"Maybe when you stop interrupting my work and let me finish," he deadpanned.

"That'll take forever, though," I muttered, glancing at the half-hanging front bumper.

He nodded slowly and quipped sarcastically, "Yes, work is like that, soplyak."

"C'mon," I said, "it's been so long since you've taken me back there! I'm afraid I'll get rusty."

Even though he still wore the welder's mask, I could feel his gaze on me, accessing if my request is really worth it. Then, he sighed and stated, "If you can change the oil on that car and replace the windshield wipers, we'll go into the ring."

"Sweet!" I chimed, and jumped into my work. Suddenly, while I was loosening the oil drain plug, it started spilling out from the edges and I rushed to tighten the plug. Oil got spilled on the floor and from the corner of my eye I saw Artem shake his head.

"Try not to make a mess, too," he remarked before starting up his tool to cut up the front bumper again.

"Gotcha," I murmured to myself, flicking off oil from my fingers.

After I finished changing the oil and replacing the windshield wipers with a new pair, I announced my triumph loud and clear so Artem would hear me. He stopped cutting the front bumper and lifted up the welder's mask. "Done?"

"Yes, now take me upstairs!" I exclaimed eagerly.

Art sighed and set down his power tool and welder's mask on a work bench. "You have thirty minutes only," he stated, "I need to get this damn car fixed by Friday. I'll have to stay late at night at this rate...."

"I can come tomorrow to help, if you want," I offered.

"No, because then I'd have to pay you extra," he grumbled and I frowned for a brief moment.

Art and I went into the office to put the auto shop uniforms back in the closet for the time being. Then he led me to one of the doors hidden in a little hall in the corner of the shop. It's always locked because it's not part of the shop, and no one else is allowed upstairs but me (as long as I'm with Artem, of course).

When the brunet unlocked the door and opened it up, I immediately clambered up the stairs. I heard him sigh behind me but I paid no attention to it. Once the door at the top of the stairs was in sight, I dashed over and turned the knob excitedly. Sadly, it didn't budge, and I had to wait for Artem's ass to finish going up the stairs.

"You're not that old, you can walk faster," I remarked as he was coming upon the last couple of steps.

"I'll keep that comment in mind for later," he said, flashing me a light glare as he unlocked the next door. As soon as it was open, I slipped inside and turned on the lights.

The large room was lit up, revealing a mostly empty studio room with a kitchen in the left corner, a bathroom next door, and a wide, black mat in the center. On the far, left wall was a big, wooden cabinet that held various training or safety equipment. Next to it sat a rack with four bo staffs ready for use. I grinned upon spotting the one I always use, gray and worn, and ran for it.

"I've missed my baby," I chimed, grabbing onto the staff and pulling it away from the rack.

"Don't forget your gloves, soplyak," Artem said as he quickly grabbed a staff at random and walked toward the black mat. When I turned, already he had taken off his shoes, so I did the same and threw them in a corner. I grabbed my gloves from the cabinet and slipped them on while the Russian brunet announced, "Like I said before, I'm giving you thirty minutes. Try to disarm me."

"Okay--."

"Again."

I furrowed my brow. "G-Got it--."

"For the twentieth time already since we've been doing this--."

"Okay, I get it, I fuckin' suck," I grumbled, "but this time I've got it!"

"Prove it then," he challenged me, pushing his staff forward.

I smirked as I stepped onto the mat with him. This is another reason why Artem is so awesome: he trains me in combat.

It's still a mystery to me why he decided to train me. One day, on the second week that I started working here, when I was sixteen, he randomly asked me if I wanted to learn how to fight. Maybe my stories of school fights sparked the offer, because I was never really good at doing anything more advanced than throwing punches and a few kicks. I agreed to the offer, not thinking much of it. Little did I know that he would end up teaching me a hell of a lot more than I expected.

He taught me perfect stances, vantage points and blind spots. He taught me about human anatomy along with, because that kind of knowledge is always effective when fighting so you know where to hit and really make it hurt. From basic punches, to fuckin' judo, he trained me in what he could just for the hell of it. I'm not sure where he learned mixed martial arts, or why he isn't in the army or UFC kicking ass, but it's amazing that he takes the time to teach some asshole kid what he knows.

And, of course, one of my favorite trainings is always with bo staffs.

Facing Artem, I raised up my staff to him, then set one end against the mat. I eyed him carefully as he stood in front of me, as still as stone. His light blue eyes stared into me, not a single glint or sign of emotion in them. At first, that look terrified me because I never knew what he would do when he kept an expression like that, but I've learned to react quick enough for him.

Suddenly, he moved and lunged forward, swinging his staff towards my right at high speed. I blocked it immediately and he backed away. Then, he tried sweeping my legs from the left but I blocked with the bottom half of my staff. He huffed and said, "Your reflexes are impeccable, I'll give you that, soplyak."

"I learned from the best," I said, smiling.

"Don't kiss ass," he stated bluntly before parrying forward. I sidestepped out of the way and blocked again when he attempted a swing at me. He spun quickly to hit his staff into my back but I lifted mine above my head and blocked. When he spun to hit my front, I smacked my staff down into his. For a brief moment, I pinned his weapon to the mat and pushed towards him to hit my staff into his head. He ducked and I blocked again when he shoved into me.

At the last moment, I started pushing forward, forcing him to walk backwards. The both of us rushed towards the other end of the mat. Suddenly, he jumped back a couple of feet away from me to have space to kick at me. I blocked it and said, "Hey, what the hell?!"

"I didn't say we could only use the staffs," he retorted before swinging his weapon towards my right. I blocked, and when he parried into me at a frantic pace, I followed suit to defend myself. Within the blur of our weapons, I would attempt to land jabs in, and he would do the same. I moved in sync with his speed, feeling my muscles burn and breaking into a sweat. He looked the same, though his face was as placid as ever.

Our chains of attacks were broken when Artem smacked the end of his staff down on the mat and swept at my feet. I jumped over it in time and blocked another hit from my left. He spun toward me to attack with the other end of his staff, and I caught it in time. Quickly, I twisted my body to stand parallel to him and whack the free end of my staff into his back facing toward me. Of course, I didn't actually hit him, but I had him in a tight spot. He knew this and respected that by standing still.

"Ha, I won!" I boasted, flashing him a victorious grin.

He smirked and said, "You did well, soplyak, but..."

Oh no, the 'but'...

"You could've hit my head instead, easily knocking me out," he explained, "that way, you would actually win. But you went for my back instead, and although it might sting..."

My smile fell and I gaped at him. "Oh, shit..."

Artem spun and swept his staff up vertically into me, but I blocked and shoved it down. Just when I was about to attack, he kicked up and hooked his heel on my weapon. Startled by the strange move, I made it easy for him to pull my staff down out of my hands and swing at me. I dodged and backed away, knowing I couldn't grab my weapon at any point now. He swung, I ducked; he kicked towards my head, I blocked with my arms.

Finally, to my dismay, he juked an attack with his staff, causing me to flinch to the right and head straight into the other end of his weapon. The back of my neck stung from the hit and I groaned loudly. As I held the wounded spot, Artem shoved me down to the mat and pressed his bo staff against my neck, which would end up choking or killing me if he had made a real hit.

"I won," he said, pulling a mocking smirk. I frowned and sighed irritably, knowing he was absolutely right.

When he retreated his staff, he said, "Training is over."

Immediately, I shot up to my feet and blurted, "Wait, what? No fair, it hasn't been thirty minutes!"

"I gave you thirty minutes to subdue me, but you failed," he stated, no sympathy whatsoever. "That was the deal."

"Bullshit," I grumbled. I ran over to my staff, picked it up, and said, "Fight me again."

"No."

"C'mon, just fight me!"

"I'm tired. See you downstairs," he commented flatly as he walked towards the rack to put his staff away.

Frustrated, I ran towards him and smacked my weapon on the ground in front of him, creating a loud echo in the studio. Artem didn't flinch, but he stopped in his tracks.

"Fight. Me," I muttered, staring hard into his eyes.

The brunet stared back, holding his stoic expression while I held my stance. Then, he managed another smirk and said, "Alright, soplyak. You have ten minutes."

Feeling triumphant, I grinned and galloped back to the mat, eager to do another round and win.

"Have I told you that you're too stubborn for your own good?," Artem said, spinning his staff like it was nothing.

"Yes, and I think everyone has," I replied, bouncing on my feet.

"You're annoying and reckless, and the most horrible kid I have ever met...," he stated with all of the blunt honesty in the world.

"Yup...!"

Slamming his bo staff into the mat, he stood like a soldier, and glowered down at me. I stared back, still bouncing in my spot. A smile broke onto his lips and he added, "Unfortunately, that's what I like about you."

"Getting sentimental on me, ruski?" I joked.

He suddenly smacked my shin with his bo staff and I whined.

"Don't call me that. Now, let's begin, once again," he said, and another round commenced.

...

Later, I was flopping myself over the living room couch, exhausted out of my mind. Mom came out from the kitchen to greet me, but interrupted herself when she saw how dirty I looked.

"Cuidado, you're gonna stink up the cushions...!" she chided me.

"Oh, my day was swell, thanks for asking," I murmured.

She gave me a gentle smile and said, "Welcome home, sweetie. I would give you a kiss on the cheek but you're all sweaty and gross."

"I'll go take a shower," I grumbled as I slowly rolled off of the couch. Once I got on the floor, I picked myself up and walked to the bathroom to get the shower ready.

When I was done and changed, Mom had just finished making dinner. She, Hunter, and I sat in the living room, watching a bit of TV while we ate. (We ended up watching a singing competition show, and Hunter and I argued over who sung better while Mom just ate her chicken.) When the program cut to commercial, it was interrupted by a random news broadcast.

"Hello," an anchorwoman greeted, "Channel 6 News interrupts your current program to bring you an urgent announcement."

"Oh boy, did the government finally reveal their secrets?," Hunter joked flatly, and I snickered. Mom only shushed us so she could listen to the TV.

"There have been multiple, distressed reports of a large-dog sized, unidentifiable creature spotted within the following cities," the anchorwoman added, and proceeded to go down a short list. Among that list of cities was ours, Wriamont. The vibe in the living room suddenly became thick with concern.

"These reports describe the animal as lanky, and agile like a feline, however it bears a black, bony exterior, multiple bulbous orbs on its body, and a large maw," the woman explained, "These brief descriptions are similar with that of the unidentifiable creatures within the 'monster' videos that have been circulating since last year. Although local authorities and animal control are doing their best to locate this creature, we advise all residents within the aforementioned cities to stay alert and, most of all, stay safe. Do not approach this creature. Find a safe shelter and call the police. Not much is known about this creature, but if you do encounter it, run for the nearest populated area and call for police..." I blocked out the anchorwoman's voice as I picked up the dishes so I could wash them.

"Freaky stuff," Hunter remarked from the couch.

"You boys need to be careful from now on," Mom warned us. She picked up her phone and began tapping the screen. "I'm going to call Artem, just in case he hasn't heard about this."

"I'm sure he hasn't," I responded, placing a wet plate on the dish rack, "He doesn't watch a lot of TV. What an old man."

"Oh, quit making fun of him, Reese," she said as she put the phone to her ear for a call.

"By the way, he says feliz cumpleaños," I told her as I finished washing.

"That's sweet of him," she murmured softly, right before greeting him when he must have picked up the phone call.

Walking back into the living room, I saw Hunter laying down on one of the couches, a pillow over his face. Smirking, I creeped up next to him and lightly tapped the pillow, exclaiming, "Suffocation!!"

He flinched and removed the pillow from his head. As soon as he saw me, he slapped it against my face and chuckled, "Screw off, Reese's puffs!"

I yanked the pillow out of his hands and hit him in the face, too. While I made a mad dash for the hallway, he got up and threw the pillow right into my back, so hard that I bumped into the hall. I cackled with surprise and he howled with laughter, causing Mom to shush us aggressively.

A few minutes later, I sat in my room, messing around on my phone. There's not a lot that I do in my free-time, other than watch YouTube videos. I would normally go around the neighborhood on my penny board, but considering the recent news, I don't think I'll be doing that until that creature is captured--if that ever happens. I've heard the stories about other animals like that showing up around the country, just randomly. Everyone says authorities will take care of the situation, but there isn't any news update if they do. Those things just disappear somehow. Hopefully, this one does, too.

Feeling my eyes getting heavy, I put my phone on my nightstand to charge overnight. With one last yawn, I turned off the bedside lamp and laid my head down to sleep.

I ended up having the same nightmare from yesterday in English. Except this time, I got to see what led me running down the basement stairs. It was because I spilled some water on the floor when cleaning dishes. The shadowy figure popped up from the kitchen entryway, howling at me like a monster (demonio). The next thing I knew, I was running down the stairs, then shoved the rest of the way. I tumbled until I hit the cold, concrete floor of the basement. My stomach felt empty and my throat burned, like I was screaming but nothing came out. Soon, I felt the hands of the shadowy figure grab my shirt and drag me up the staircase. And so the sequence repeated over and over again, until there was too much blood in my mouth for me to breathe, until I couldn't feel any pain anymore--

I woke up in a cold sweat with my heart racing way too fast. My blanket was crumpled up on the floor and my pillow was damp. I sat up, staring ahead into the darkness of my room, where my closet would be. Then, I glanced out of my window at the city beyond.

I'm not in that basement anymore. I'm not in that house. I'm here. Safe and alive. Free.

I shut my eyes tightly and took a deep breath to calm my nerves.

Free. You're free.

Eventually, I tossed my sweat covered pillow on the floor, got up to wash my face, then came back and went to bed again. I thought about other things as I kept my eyes closed. I thought about the cars that could be driving around outside; I thought about what Hunter might be dreaming (probably something stupid), I thought about what Mom might make for dinner tomorrow, I thought about Mom and her beautiful, caramel toned face. A lot of things went through my mind to calm it down, until it all became too exhausting and I fell asleep again.