Autumn Birgison's Story

Autumn pouted, but nodded, "Okay." She said and played with Jonny's hair. He liked that a lot. He liked a lot of things Autumn did, but why they couldn't make a relationship that was beyond just friends work was beyond him. Jonny was content with what he had with her now. He smirked at Levi, "Hey... you wanna hear some horror stories?" He asked the small guy with the purple hair. He wanted to know if this guy had any emotions or was just some cute freak. It was one thing to have fucked him and have him as a friend it was another to have Autumn spend time with him. Autumn had enough trouble with the crazies she attracted already.

Levi shook his head at the pout a little bit and then looked over at Jonny and nodded. "Yeah sure. I like horror stories." He said and shifted to sit Indian style. He did actually like horror stories, especially the ones that didnt really rely on making a lot of sudden noise or fake screaming to get the point across. His moms husband, who he guessed could be called a step dad, always told them scary stories when they were younger and they went camping or built blanket forts in the house.

Jonny and Autumn smiled at each other after he had moved so that he could properly tell the story, Autumn was bound to get scared, she always did, but she had took it like a champ and clung to him. He wondered if she could cling to Levi now, since it looked like Levi couldn't be scared of anything. The boy look like a creepy doll now that he thought about it. "Okay, here it goes..."

"This all started about 7 months ago with my mother's passing. It has been expected, but it still came as a shock to my systems and way of life. I feel too young to be motherless at the age of 26, but I guess she die at the young age of 54. Losing a parent is not new to me, I have been fatherless longer than half my life with his death in Iraq when I was 12.

My mother fell ill about two years ago. We moved to the big city of Seattle so that my mother could receive the best medical care possible and to be close to her doctors. The doctors, however, did not know what was wrong; they could not find an answer. Every different doctor would give a different diagnosis. They would tell me all this medical jargon that only a professional colleague could understand. No matter how smart or lengthy their medical expertise was, I always understood the short answer: "She's dying."

I was working the Thursday night shift at the mini mart around the block from our apartment so I wasn't home at the time of her passing. I was taking my time going home in the early morning, smoking one more cigarette since I didn't like to smoke around my mother. I decided to butt it out when I walked passed the neighborhood tweaker, who I had nicknamed Paranoid Pete, who sounded like he was checking in with his mother on the cell phone he held up to his ear. "Even this crackhead is worried about his mother while I am taking my time going home to my dying mom just so I can kill myself sooner," I thought as I quietly tittered at his maneuvers. When I got to our apartment, I wished I had smoked a couple more just so that I could avoid reality just a little longer.

I am thankful that she was able to pass away peacefully in her warm bed on a cool September night, but I still feel guilty about not being there. This was much different than when I lost my dad: I didn't see his body, I didn't have to call 911, I didn't have to worry about funeral arrangements and I wasn't alone. This time was much different.

We didn't really have anyone else, so I didn't expect that a lot of people would have cared or noticed my mother's passing. I decided to not have a funeral since I would be the only one in attendance. I wrote up a nice obituary and had it posted in the Sunday newspaper. She wanted to be cremated, so that was scheduled to be done in a week.

The Tuesday after the posting, I started receiving sympathy cards at my apartment. I did not expect these. They all looked to be from people in the Seattle area. I started reading them and found out that they were from her past students. My mother use to be an elementary school teacher and was one until she fell ill. By Wednesday, I was receiving them from all around the state and by Friday, I was receiving them from across the country. I was unsure how they found out our apartment address, but I did not really question it. I was happy that my mother was not forgotten.

In the cards, many of the student inquired regarding a funeral or memorial service since I did not mention one in the obituary. These students left their phone numbers. I dreaded telling them that there wasn't going to be one. By Friday, I had received about 30 cards. To allow these thoughtful strangers their chance to say goodbye, I called a local church to schedule a memorial. It was scheduled to be two weeks away and I called them all to let them know of the service.

I wasn't expecting to have to plan a service; so I felt in a rush. I started scrummaging through my mother's boxes of photos and memorabilia that were under her bed and in her drawers. I wanted to do a collage of her teaching days with her students since they were going to be the ones in attendance. There were many boxes of art projects and photos; there was even one that had folded up pieces of paper in which I assumed were notes from students but didn't bother looking through them.

I then found her first classroom picture. I saw my young mother smiling wide with her twelve second grade students. The students were sitting on chairs with the second row on risers: six in the front and six in the back with my mother standing behind all of them. In front of them on the ground read a sign that said:

'Miss Murray's Second Grade Class Hunters Elementary School September 1988'

Seeing my mom looking happy and alive put a smile on my face. I scanned all the children's faces, wondering if any of them was going to attend the service. One of the boys in the class had an odd and silly facial expression that was borderline unnerving. His eyes were wide and sunken in. He was either sucking in his bottom lip, or bitting it. It looked as if he was holding in a fart, in which this observation made me chuckle. This was probably the first time I had any form of laughter since the morning I found my mother in bed.

At the bottom of the box that held this photo, there was a leather bound book with my mother's old university emblem embedded on the cover. I picked it up and turned it to the first page:

'Inspire the change. Remember the past. Teach the future. -Professor T. Hart'

Realizing this must have been a graduation gift, I continued to the next page and saw that she had used it as a journal. I wanted to read through it, but I felt guilty about it as well. Journals are supposed to be private, but I figured my mother didn't have any secrets that I didn't know. So I decided to read on:

'8/28/1988

Tomorrow is my first day teaching. I am extremely nervous, but it is a small class. Not many people live in this town called Hunters. I moved here two weeks ago after accepting the job. I have met many of the families already just from being in town, but sure I still have a lot of people to meet still. This is a big adjustment from Tacoma, but this change of scenery across state is much appreciated.

My favorite professor gave me this journal and said it would be good to keep a log of some sorts when starting teaching. This way, it allows you to look back at what worked with students and what didn't work. I doubt I'll have much time for that, but I will give it a chance.'

I continued reading my mother's handwriting through the fading and smeared ballpoint pen:

'8/29/1988

Well I did it. I am a teacher now and I survived my first day, but barely though. I am exhausted. I have not even cooked dinner yet, but I am already thinking about going to bed. I love all my students so far. I know each one of them is going to be special to me. There is one though that I am concerned about. His name is Joshua Clemens. He arrived about an hour late to class and (not to be rude) smelled horrid. He smelled as though he lives in a dumpster and has not taken a bath in months. I can tell it bothers the other students since no one will play with him. I am not sure what I should do in this situation.'

I grabbed the class photo and followed the name listing printed on the back of the photo to see what Joshua looked like. It was, of course, the boy with the odd facial expression that I equated to holding in a fart. I didn't notice this when I first laughed at the photo, but the little girl named Kimberly Boswell on his left was sitting about a foot away. The rest of the children were about 2 inches apart. I suddenly felt sorry for Joshua Clemens.

I put the diary down and continued to look for photos. I collected ones that I could paste to a poster board so I could display it at the service.

I decided to pick up the diary once again one evening. Most of the entries just talked about study plans and lessons. I would have to say it was very uninteresting. Until the mention of Joshua Clemens:

'9/28/1988 Dear Journal,

I decided to write to Mrs. Clemens regarding Joshua. The smell has gotten much worse. I have to hold my breath when he is around. He rarely speaks as well and is cruel to the other children. He antagonizes them and it hampers their learning. I am not sure, but I think he has a learning disorder. I might not be able to help him.'

The tone of the entry was much different that the past few I had read. This was short and I could hear my mother's temper through the words and the handwriting.

I continued onto the next entry:

'9/29/1988 Dear Journal,

It was awful. My day. It is hard to write this down. I got a note back from Mrs. Clemens. It was awful. I don't know how someone could write that to someone. I talked to Principal Cochran and showed him the note. He told me that Mrs. Clemens is ill and not right in the mind. I guess Joshua's father abandoned them and Mrs. Clemens blamed herself. I guess got sick and never got better. Joshua must have it rough, practically taking care of himself. I regret my letter. Doesn't forgive the rudeness of the note but I must be able to help.

I saw a folded up piece of paper in the journal. It was the note from Mrs. Clemens:

'Miss Murray,

I assume you don't and won't have kids. So where is it allowed for you to tell me how to raise my son - my Sweet Joshua? There is nothing wrong with him but I think there is something wrong with you. My son has nothing to learn from a city bitch like yourself. Kick him out of you class if you wish. He would be better off.

Remember Miss Murray, you cannot stop a mother's love.

-Georgia Clemens'

"What a fucking bitch!" I internally yelled. I was pissed that someone wrote that to my mother, even if it was a long time ago.

It pissed me off even more to see that the handwriting looked as if it came from someone well educated and not some low life woman. I was expecting something more messy and less neat, but instead it was almost artistic; the words were written in what was probably the best cursive I had ever seen. I was expecting someone who couldn't spell, let alone write.

A few days after my last journal reading and a week before the memorial service, my mother was cremated. With being contacted by my mother's past students and reading the journal, my mind was preoccupied. I was walking home from the crematory, when Paranoid Pete was laying on the ground whispering to piece of paper that laid on the cement: "Yes mother, yes." That was when it hit me; listening to this man talk. I will never talk to my mother again. This was the first time I cried.

That night and after having a couple of generously poured drinks that evening, I continued reading the journal. Well, more liked skimming it for any mention of Joshua or Georgia Clemens:

'10/12/1988 Dear Journal,

We are supposed to make home visits. I am of course dreading visiting Mrs. Clemens, but I need to for the sake of Joshua. Joshua does not not talk to me or the other kids. He barely eats. His smell has gotten much worse, I need to have a serious conversation about the sake of her son. I am hoping the principal will go with me. I am supposed to make the phone calls tomorrow. I am dreading this.'

I read the next entry since it caught my eye. It didn't have a date. The writing was messy and scribbled:

'I am shaking. I had to call Mrs. Clemens. I will not speak with that woman again. She is vulgar and rude. I still have to go to the house to visit but Principal Cochran said he would attend and do most of the talking for me. I don't think it is a good idea. I am worried. She threatened me. She said to not come to her house. She said I should have just stayed home with my cat. This threw me off guard. I was speechless. When I came home, my cat was no where to be found. I am scared Mrs. Clemens took her. How did she know I had a cat? I keep calling out for her from my black door every 30 minutes or so.'

I hated reading this. My mother never told me any of this. She always talked about her favorite students or classroom memories. After reading this first year journal, I understood why she never mentioned her first year teaching. I put the journal down. I couldn't read anymore. I didn't want any part of this. I just wanted my mother's memorial service to be over with and for me to move on. I didn't want this to be my last connection with my mother. I couldn't let it be.

A week had passed and I was straightening my black and flattening my black collar. It was it. It was a chance to see the joy and happiness that my mother gave to her students. It was to know that she had a happy life after the events of the journal. It was to say goodbye.

I walked to the church with a black umbrella to protect me from the regular Seattle downpour. I arrived at the church an hour before the service, but people were already showing up. People were giving their condolences and I was trying to listen and nod appropriately. I was on auto pilot. Everything was a blur. The realization of it all caused me to become a shell. Until the smell.

I looked up and saw the dripping mess that was Paranoid Pete. He was signing the guest book at the entrance and then approached me. He was smiling with wide eyes, chuckling through rotten teeth right in front of me. My mother's students looked at us and and just looked at him. He was holding his flat hands together - pointing at me - almost like a prayer but with his earth stained fingers towards me.

"My...mu-mu-mother wanted me to gi-iv-ive this to you," he said through a grin. He opened his hands as if they were a book. And what was a black and white photo of a woman. She looked stern and unhappy with her soulless dark eyes. I picked it up and felt impressions of written letters. I turned it around. I instantly recognized the handwriting:

'See your mother in hell.

Love, Georgia Clemens'

It then hit me - Paranoid Pete was Joshua. I looked him in the eyes, but he started to turn around. Something came over me: rage. I grabbed him to a stop and punched him right in his rotten teeth. He fell to the ground, screaming like an infant. "My mother won't be happy about this! My mother won't be happy about this!" I jumped on top of him and gave him another bloody fist.

"Fuck you and fuck your mother!"

Two men attending the service grabbed me and hurried me away. I felt the blood in my face as I watched Joshua get up and run out the church.

I attended the remainder of the service in the back. Luckily one of my mother's students grew up to be a nurse who cleaned and bandaged my hand as the service continued. I felt ashamed that everyone kept looking back at me as service went on. Afterwards, I had to talk to the police but no charges were pressed. I didn't want to stay after the service and talk to the past students. I grabbed the guestbook and the police drove me to my apartment. On my way home, I looked through the guestbook and confirmed my initial suspensions as I saw the chicken scratch handwriting that read: 'Joshua Clemens'.

The events just raced through my head over and over again as I sat in my living room. I was on edge as I drank whiskey and chained cigarettes.

I don't know what came over me, but the journal drew me in. I turned to the page of the last entry I left off on. I turned the page for the next entry to find that there were no more words. No more sentences. No more entries. It was just pen lines going across the pages. Less than a quarter of the journal had actual entries of writing. The rest was just lines. Ugly lines. I kept flipping through the pages, looking for anything in particular. Then the lines stopped on the last few pages of the journal. This ink looked fresh. It wasn't smeared or faded. The date confirmed that. The date of her death:

'9/14/2017 Dear Journal,

It has been a long time, I don't think I have much time left. I am a dying woman but I want this story to be told. Sometimes the stories you don't want to tell are the ones that need to be heard.

It has haunted me since the day of October 30, 1988. Principal Cochran was driving us to the Clemens House. I was nervous. My hands were shaking and my heart was skipping beats. I remember looking at Cochran and he was sweating. He was dreading seeing this sick woman - both in the head and physical. The house was deep in the woods. The town, if you could call it a town, was called Hunters and it was surrounded by giant pine trees. The only way to get to this house was to drive down this dirt road. I remember feeling slightly sorry for Joshua Clemens since he had to walk up and down this dirt road everyday.

We approached the house. It was worn down. The roof was clearly prone to leaking. There were weeds that were engulfing the porch that wrapped around the house. The yellow paint was chipping, revealing the previous paint of red. The blinds were shut, except for the top right window on the second floor. That one was wide open and a light was left on.

We walked up the rickety steps of the porch and Cochran knocked. No response. He knocked again. No response. I wanted to say that no one was home and that we should go back. But Cochran was my boss. I didn't want to look like I was trying to avoid doing my job.

"She must be home," he said as he turned the doorknob causing the door to creak open. I would be lying if I wrote that I wasn't scared. I was terrified.

As the door opened, my eyes began to water and my nose burned. The smell. I was smelling this every since the first day of school on Joshua, but it was much stronger. We walked in, both holding our breathes. "Hello?" Cochran cried out. The house was silent. "Go upstairs and see if Mrs. Clemens is up there. I am going to see if Joshua is somewhere." I wanted to dispute. I wished I turned around. But I didn't. I didn't.

I slowly walked up the stairs. The smell overpowered all my senses. I could taste it. I could feel it.

At the end of the hallway was Joshua. He looked dead. His soul was void in his eyes. "She told you not to come. She protects me and she told you not to come." He said in a monotone voice. This was the most I had ever heard Joshua talk and I wished I never heard it. He ran through the open door to his left. "Joshua! Come back!" I yelled and followed. I found myself in stench and a bedroom with a lit lantern in the corner. Joshua was climbing out of the window onto the roof. I ran to grab him but he slid the wooden door frame closed and disappeared. The bedroom door slammed shut and I jumped out of my skin. "Mrs. Clemens? Hello?" I said timidly as I turned around. I noticed that there was a body in the bed that was on the far side of the room. The smell. Oh God, the smell. I smell it everyday now. It doesn't leave me.

I walked across the room and to the bed, putting my naive hand out to wake up the sleeping Mrs. Clemens. Coldness. I felt coldness. I shook my hand on the body. Nothing. I wish I hadn't. I wish I hadn't pulled down the overs. But I did. There she was. There as a corpse. I ran toward the door, screaming. My hand grabbed the doorknob but it didn't budge. Then I heard a noise behind me. "COCHRAN!" I yelled. "HELP!"

I heard a woman's raspy laugh behind me. "I told you," I heard the cold voice behind me. I turned my head back. Mrs. Clemens was sitting up in bed with her eyes shut. I continued to yell for Cochran and God. I looked back again; Mrs. Clemens was standing in the middle of the room, closer to me. She was still - like a corpse. All color had left her. I turned towards the door and stepped back to kick the door, but I felt a coldness on my right shoulder - and then my left. "You can't stop a mother's love," was whispered in my left ear. I looked back and saw the sunken, cloudy eyes and a grin on the rotten face of Mrs. Clemens.

The door opened quickly, causing me to fall back onto what would have been the remains of Mrs. Clemens - but she wasn't there. I jumped up and ran into Cochran as he noticed the body of Mrs. Clemens in her bed.

I sat quietly in Cochran's locked car as we waited for the police and paramedics to arrive. Cochran was looking around the surrounding woods for Joshua. I was quiet as I looked at the top at the top right window. There she was - Mrs. Clemens. Waving goodbye to me and holding up what looked like my cat's lifeless body. I knew I was not imagining it. I felt threatened and fear, but not in danger. But she was antagonizing me. And she did. For the rest of my life.

It was a few days later that I heard that Mrs. Clemens was dead for at least four months and that Joshua was living on his own this entire time. The police could not find Joshua. He was never found. All my life, I would find notes from Mrs. Clemens; reminding me of the same thing: you cannot stop a mother's love.'

I set the journal on the coffee table and sat there on my couch, quiet and stunned. I reached for another cigarette until I realized something. My mother had a box of notes under her bed. I thought these were from students, but realized I was most likely wrong. I grabbed the old shoe box and opened up the top. I opened note after note as I recognized the penmanship - the perfect cursive - and did not even read them. Some of these looked like fresh ink as the ink was not faded or smeared. There were only a few left; I opened one up and saw that it wasn't made out to my mother - but to me:

'Remember Andrew,

I will always protect my Joshua from harm. You cannot stop a mother's love.

Love, Georgia Clemens'

I haven't seen Joshua since the funeral, but I am starting to find more notes from his mother. I am starting to smell death. And it does not leave me."

Scary story written by J_R_Jollstein

Levi sat quietly and listened to the story, making a variety of different expressions as the story went on. This was a wonderfully awful story, and he both hated and loved it at the same time. It made the air feel stale and chilly and at certain points he had wanted to look behind him to make sure nothing was there, since it definitely felt like there was. He frowned about the lifeless cat though, that just made him sad. Cats were one of Levi's favorite animals, though he had never had one. By the end of the story he had managed to inch over to Jonny and cling to him like Autumn was, a decently horrified look on his face. "That gave me the most unholy of chills...I guess I wont be sleeping tonight..." He said softly.

Jonny saw both of them inching towards him and tried hard not to laugh in the middle of it. Once done he smiled with pride, "Oh man... I get two on my arm. Go me... now we can make this a little interesting and he can hop on that favor." He said and Autumn laughed. "Sorry, you can only have one... I can watch, but then you couldn't have me." She said and winked before shuffling away from him and looking over into the woods. Jonny blinked and looked at her, "See something?" He whispered and Autumn shrugged. "I thought I did... I guess not." She said and looked back at Jonny and Levi before smiling. Behind that smile, she was scared shitless but played it off cool. "Levi has an adorable scared face." She giggled and Jonny nodded in agreement. "That he does and he is so tiny, ugh." He said and pulled Levi into his lap and hugged him. Autumn clapped softly and laughed, "Cutest gays in the world."

Levi laughed a little bit. " A favor?" He asked and then watched as autumn skittered away way a little bit and stared into the woods. He looked too and then sighed. "If something pops out of the woods, I vote we use Jonny as a shield." He said and then got dragged into Jonnys lap. He huffed a little bit. "Im not that tiny. Damn." He mumbled and just decided to let what was happening happen since people did this with him much too often.

Jonny nodded before nuzzling his face into Levi's hair. "I get a favor since I fucked you last night." He said and Autumn nodded before getting up. "Be right back, guys." She said softly, looking back at the woods and started to walk off. "Autumn, no!" Jonny called out once he realized what she was doing. He gently took Levi off of him and placed him next to him before getting up and went to go follow Autumn but couldn't. He went back to Levi, "You, come with me before I lose you too."

Levi sighed a little bit at the favor nonsense. He wasnt sure what that was all about, and didnt know how he felt about Jonny needing a favor to sleep with him. He'd rather not have been slept with if that was the case. He sat where he was put when he was moved when Autumn ran off, and Jonny went to go find Autumn. Levi stood when Jonny came back and nodded before quietly walking along with him to find Autumn.

Jonny sighed, "She does this a lot yeah... she sees something and goes over to it. Curiosity gets the best of her." He said as they walked. "Now where the hell does a pink hair girl go to?" He growled a bit. They trecked for sometime before he saw her pink hair, "Autumn!" He yelled and out stepped Autumn from the side of them and shushed them before pulling them off to the side. "That's not fucking me." She whispered.

Levi followed along with Jonny. This was certainly proving to be quite the eventuful night, than they had not even been out that long. He walked along with Jonny, making sure to stay close. the last thing he needed was to get lost in the damn woods on an island they werent supposed to be on in the first place. When Jonny saw pink hair he yelled Autumns name, but Autumn stepped out from the side of them and shushed them. "Who the fuck is it then...or what...?" He whispered.

Autumn shrugged, "I don't know." She whispered. They could hear rustling coming towards them and Jonny tightened his jaw and clenched his fists just in case he was going to have to save all three of their asses. Who they thought was Autumn was actually a man and then he wasn't alone. Another man was who was taller than him came and met him. "How the fuck did you manage to lose the bitch? She fucking followed us right into the damn woods." He growled. The guy with the pink hair shrugged, "She is a fucking fast one. I am sure those two idiots followed her since one of them called out her name. If we can get that purple hair faggot away from the other one we may get a bonus for bringing two in." The pink hair guy smirked.

"Yeah if we can fucking find them. Come on they have to leave sometime." He said and they walked off to the only exit on the island. Autumn was pissed. Who the fuck were these guys and who the hell calls Levi a fag? She looked around for a small log or a branch. Jonny looked down, "Don't you fucking dare." He hissed/whispered.

"We have to get off the damn island, Jonny!" She whispered back. "You forget what Loris used to do for a living." She whispered as she looked back and smirked before pulling a pocket knife out of her bra and began to sharpen a branch. Jonny sighed and looked at Levi and ruffled his hair. "You just stay behind one of us." He said.

Levi blinked and watched the men who were there talk about losing Autumn apparently. And then how if they could manage to get him alone they might get a bonus. Though they did refer to him as the purple haired faggot. Which didnt bother him much, he had been called worse. When Autumn pulled out a knife from her bra he blinked and then when he got his hair ruffled he just sighed and got down on one knee and pulled a decently sized hunting knife from his boot and stood up again. "Okay."

Jonny and Autumn looked over at him. "The hell... you really are packing," Jonny said and Autumn just blinked. "You look like a really scary doll now." She whispered before finishing her spear. "Ugh... I don't feel like fighting with my fucking high, assholes." She said and looked at Jonny who sighed and nodded. They went back to the camp site and put out the fire before heading to the entrance where the two guys leaned against the bridge. "Throw it." Johnny whispered and Autumn sighed. She had been taught by Loris how to do many things if she was ever in a situation in the woods and needed to use whatever was around. Autumn looked at Levi and was glad her chances with him were already shot because right now would have definitely ruined it. Cocking her arm back she aimed for the taller one who wasn't looking their way and threw it. Like she knew it would the spear went through the guy's neck.

The pink hair man freaked and looked around before spotting them and ran. "Well that was a bummer." Jonny said and they walked to the now dead man on the ground. "Uncle Q is gonna be so damn mad." He said and sighed. Autumn nodded and looked back at Levi. "Sorry about tonight... it is usually really chill. Next time we are just gonna smoke at my place since it is in the country but you know... not like in the middle of nowhere." She said softly. If there was going to be a next time.

Blake blinked. "Im five eight and pretty much a noodle. Of course I'm packing. Its not like I can fight my way out of shit." He said and shrugged a little bit and gave Autumn a look when she called him a scary doll. He shook his head and walked along with them, raising an eyebrow when Jonny told Autumn to throw her spear, she did and it went right through the dudes neck which made Levi cringe. He sighed and then blinked. "Uncle Q?" He asked. He's heard the name but wasnt sure who that was. Levi was tucking his boot knife back into his boot when Autumn turned around. "Uh...Well its not your fault we ran into weirdos who wanted to kidnap us for whatever reason..." He said and nodded a little. "Your place is probably a better option for next time. I'll bring the brownies..." He said and stood back up.

Autumn smiled softly at him, "Yeah, my parents are pretty chill... we will have to sneak you before my mom sees you though or we might never get you back." She laughed softly and looked up at Jonny. "You think you can go tell Uncle Q while I walk with Levi? Since you know... he is your uncle and all." She smiled. He glared at her, "Just because I work for him doesn't make him my damn uncle, woman." He sighed and walked them to the main bridge before splitting up with them, "Okay... where to?" She asked him softly. It was clear she was a bit worried, she didn't want to lose Levi before she even got him as a friend.

Levi nodded a little bit and then raised an eyebrow. "Why? Whats your mom gonna do?" He asked and then looked over at Jonny and walked to the bridge with them before waving to Jonny when they split up and then looked back at Autumn and then blinked. "I should be asking you that question. I'll walk you home. You look kind of worried anyways." He said and motioned for her to start walking to her place. He wanted to be sure that she got home, he might not have been some big tall man, but the least he could do was see that she had gotten home without trouble. He'd hate to hear that she walked home and something had happened while she was alone, she seemed to be able to handle herself, but he still wanted to walk her home.

Hadasha blinked, "Thul." She said and let the name run off her tongue. "I like that name." She said softly before getting up and walking over to her to get the money. When she said that the baby was a hungry one she gently rubbed it. "You called for womb service, huh? You smartie." She giggled before going to the door. "Imma spoil that baby before it is even born. My evil plan. Muhahaha." She giggled and then hurried off.

---

Autumn blinked, "Uh... no? I mean I don't mind letting you come over, but if you do you are staying. Did you not see me spear a man tonight?" She asked, laughing a bit. She pressed her lips together. She wanted to be friends with him real bad and she feared tonight would make him leave. "Stay the night, okay? I promise to bore you right to sleep." She smiled softly.

Levi looked over at Autumn and sighed a little bit. "I would make it home like completely fine. Its real easy for me to go completely unnoticed by people." He said and then just nodded a little bit. "But okay...I'll stay. But I need to leave kinda early in the morning so....Need to be at work at seven and I'd need to go home before that." He said and shrugged a little bit. "And im not sure you could bore me to sleep, my older brother says nothing but boring medical stuff relating to his school work and that doesnt manage to put me out." He said and laughed a little.

Autumn smiled happily and began to walk. "I am glad you decided to make a smart move, because someone was going to be sleeping somewhere." She smiled. The streets were almost empty except for the people going and coming from taverns. "Mmm I think I might take that as a challenge now." She winked at him and hugged her arms around her as they walked. "So I got a new job I will be working at real soon. It is at a local tavern. Babysitter by day, bar waitress by night." She smiled as they took a turn and headed for a small neighborhood made up of a few houses, one being her brothers and her parents. She walked in the back of her parent's property and towards her own home.

Levi smiled and shook his head at her. He didnt mind walking around in the dark like this when there was no one around. He had done it a lot, having done singing jobs at bars and things rather late into the night, so he wasnt really even thinking twice about walking around so late. He looked over at her when she spoke. "Oh really? Im not sure whether or not working at a tavern would be much fun, with the drunks and what not. Theyre always kind of bothersome from what ive seen while doing singing jobs at taverns before." He said and then looked around a little when they got to a property and passed up the first couple of houses and had started going to the back of one of the properties.