Olav motioned for them to find seating for five. Slightly walking ahead of them, his typical big brother attitude became apparent at the occasion.
"What do you ladies like?" he asked them as he walked over to the cash register. He took a glance up at the overhead menu. "One Large Combination pizza with extra cheese? Sounds right?"
After some thought he placed an order for one that was half combination, half vegetarian. He brought the order number stand and five empty plastic cups to the table, in case anyone wanted drinks, and took a seat.
"So," he said, "What made you ladies decide to move into Wicker? The location is quite nice I should say. I moved in mostly because it's fairly close to my cab company's office. And it seems like alot of interesting stuff is going on in this neighborhood."

Haven Nicols

Haven tilted her head as Olav asked for the order, then went up to the counter. She found herself without anything to do and, because she felt the need to take some semblance of charge, she pointed to a vacant booth and clicked her shoes along the white linoleum floors as she stepped. This place was fairly good at making pizza, and she'd been here before (as she'd entered the man making pizza in the back spotted her and waved-- he was a wide, tall man with a great smile, who often found himself addicted to cake and chocolate treats from Hugo's.)

Sadly, though, some of the tables were in a state of disrepair (the place wasn't dirty, or even down on its luck, but tables were expensive and sometimes it was hard to replace them when college students found it funny to damage them), and this was how Haven ended up sitting in a booth, with just enough space on every side for everyone, using her fingernail to scrape over the various intents of the wood.

Olav came back, then, with a little number stand and cups. Haven took one, said a polite, curt thank you, and almost wasn't even paying attention when he asked why they came to wicker house.

"I needed a place to stay that wasn't given to me out of the kind heart of my employer. I stayed above Hugo's for two years-- I was bored of it. The house's rent was cheap... That's about it, actually," she said, shrugging her shoulders. She tried to think up better excuses, better reasons, to make herself seem even mildly more interesting, but she couldn't. The truth was Boring, capital B, but at least she'd earn brownie points for being truthful.

The shop had been quiet, for a long time (even after their pizza lay on the table, eaten off of, with their cups filled with their respective poisons-- Haven's being very sour lemonade), but it didn't stay that way.


It's really no surprise that college goers, especially seniors with not much else to lose, with little to no threat of being expelled, were a boisterous group of people, and the group of five or so that entered just then were exactly that-- loud, and annoying. Haven could vaguely recognize a few of them, mostly by what they ordered when they came to the cafe-- Coffee, black; coffee with lots of cream, two shots of espresso; coffee with soy milk. The other two in the group she'd never met, but they seemed to know someone in their little group (her mind supplied Amiee, who was an actual student at the college) because they began to walk over.

Haven knew their type-- once or twice dated their type-- big people with bigger egos, charming smiles-- good for drinks, easy to use (when you were too young to get drunk legally), and always down for any party in the world, especially if there was a keg. Internally, she vomited, but on the exterior she looked over at their group, gave them a side-eye that would incapacitate a lesser being, and waited for them to come over.

They didn't disappoint-- they walked over with the air of owning the place, and then plastered themselves at the head of the booth.

"Theo! Hey! What happened to you last night, huh?" One of them, the shorter of the pair, spoke first, and Haven raised an eyebrow towards Theo.

"You've met?" She asked Theo. Their tones seemed friendly enough, but Haven knew that was sometimes a lie. The pizza was now almost half-done, if Theo looked like he didn't want them around, or embarrassed-- well, they could leave. And if not, Haven might not hang around people like them exclusively anymore, but they were good for a story or five, so It might be fun to see what they had to say.

---

For the most part of the entire trip over, Aimee kept to herself but plastered a genuine smile on her lips. When they arrived, she'd kept close to Mabel perhaps out of habit of always wanting to be nearest to the person who intimidated her the least. This one, she felt, likely had so much in common what with their similar demeanor that she sensed a friendship on the rise.

Fast forward, and she was following Haven and company over to the booth.

"What made you ladies decide to move into Wicker? The location is quite nice I should say. I moved in mostly because it's fairly close to my cab company's office. And it seems like alot of interesting stuff is going on in this neighborhood." Olav asked.

"I needed a place to stay that wasn't given to me out of the kind heart of my employer. I stayed above Hugo's for two years-- I was bored of it. The house's rent was cheap... That's about it, actually." Haven answered.

"--The house's rent was cheap...That's about it actually." Theo gave his own excuse, short and simple.

It was Mabel or Aimee's go, and Aimee opened her mouth to answer when the group of rambunctious college students -- who apparently knew Theo -- interrupted their 'bonding' outing. She closed her mouth to listen to the exchange between the students and Theo, but the only thing worth a damn that she cared for was the words: "Ghost House, actually.'

Now, Aimee was a religious sort - believe it or not - in that she believed in a heaven and a hell. Whether or not Jesus came to die for everyone's sins was irrelevant to her, as she wasn't sure she trusted a book written by man on a creator's opinions on how the world should be run. But, the important part to her, was that she believed there was a place to go if you were a good person, and a place you went to if you were not. Naturally, demons, ghosts, or whatever ruled either 'place' had to be possible.

But did she really believe in ghost stories? I mean, they all seem so fun to listen to, to read about, or to see made in to major motion pictures, but nothing had ever happened to her. And, to consider the source of where this fable was coming from, Aimee rolled her eyes. She'd seen these kids around campus. In fact, the one speaking about the story as if it were life and death shared Composition I with her.

"Have you nothing better to do?" She snapped, back bone in tact and everything.

"Now let's go Mike. I don't want my greek salad to get soggy, leave Teddy to have recover from our awesome bash with his....uh..friends."

"Mmhm. Yeah, well. Alright. That was oodles of fun and not at all painfully awkward, amiright?" Theo chimed once the others had left them in 'peace' or 'pieces', dependent on who you asked, probably.

"What's to be awkward about? They're hardly credible sources on any accounts -- and I'm pretty sure that one guy was still drunk." She shrugged her shoulders of the situation and took another bite of the vegetarian pizza, throwing a wink at Olav, "Oh, and thanks for the consideration on the veggie pizza."

---

Ms. Burns dusted her attire - the very same dress suit she wore the day each of the tenants arrived at Wicker House for Open house - and rolled back her shoulders. Her eyes watched as dust flew behind a car driving up the dirt road to the house, a grimace on her features. She stood in the door way of the front porch, the door open behind her.

"Six out of seven," She said, seemingly to no one in particular.

A voice called from behind her, raspy and hollow.

"Upstairs. The last remaining room." Ms. Burns spoke monotonously. After a moment, she smiled with a nod. "As you wish." The door shut behind her and she made her way to the steps to greet the next tenant.

"Mr. Reid. Your fellow roommates seem to have departed for the evening, but I've got a key. This one is for you, and I'll show you to your room."

As Will drove down the dirt road to Wicker House, he couldn't help but feel like he was living in some kind of dreamworld. It was seemingly unheard of that a twenty-one year old be given a free ride on a baseball scholarship. Especially one who had a bad shoulder injury that kept him from a professional career. With his mind always on the diamond, he almost didn't notice Ms. Burns standing in the doorway as he parked.

He grabbed his duffel bag out of the front passengers seat, exited the car, and approached her, nodding as he gave his greeting.

"Ms. Burns. How're you ma'am?"

"Mr. Reid. Your fellow roommates seem to have departed for the evening, but I've got a key. This one is for you, and I'll show you to your room."

William placed the key in his pocket and managed a quick, "Thank you ma'am," before she lead him into the house and up the stairs. The room was smaller than the master bedroom that he had seen during the open house, but he didn't need a whole lot of room. Will didn't even own a TV set. All he needed room for was his equipment, a place to hang his clothes, and a place to sleep. He didn't even mind sharing a bathroom with however many other tenants there were.

After unpacking, Will decided to rest for a little while. As he lie back on his bed and closed his eyes, Will couldn't help but feel as if he was being watched from his bedroom door. After a quick glance to see if someone was there and seeing nothing, he shrugged his shoulders and quickly dozed off lazily..

"Who were those guys?" Olav asked, looking somewhat disinterested. According to them the house he and his new roommates had moved into was a place of urban legend. There was indeed an unnatural calm surrounding the place, but it didn't quite seem like a place out of a horror story. Olav sat there quietly listening to the kids as he absent-mindedly sipped some soda. He had asked them why they chose to move into this place to break the ice and get a conversation going, and told them that his reason was the house's proximity to his company's headquarters, but that was somewhat a lie. He had done a little research into the house. Perhaps the place had history way back to western colonial times? Olav speculated that people such as explorers, rich oil men, pioneers, and the like having resided in the area. He looked at his roommates, wondering what they were thinking.
"So, " Olav said. "Do you ladies believe those guys? I mean, just because a place is old doesn't mean it's haunted right? Any of you know who used to live there or something? Other than the boy those guys mentioned."

---

Sunday//6:00//Pizza shop->Wicker House

Haven watched with less-than-fully-proffessional interest as Theo's friends decided to take it upon themeselves to take over the situation, as if Theo was even acting like he wanted them there, as if the world watched their every moment with the kind of interest garnered to Movie Stars. They put her on edge, for some reason, because used to be she was the one in control of every interaction she had with people like that. Haven rolled her eyes, even before they got to talking about the house.

Haven did believe in hauntings, but she didn't doubt their house was a prime candidate for one-- it was old, it was creepy, and it was in the middle of no-where. Still, Haven didn't think any house that had a reputation like that was really haunted-- she figured sometimes people just liked to talk. Besides, Haven might be easy to anger, but she wasn't gullible. It would take a lot more proof than some ghost stories to get her to admit she lived in a haunted house.

Though, she did contribute twice to their talking:

"Maybe we'll sell tours around the house when Halloween comes around, huh?" she said, taking a sip of her drink between the words of the others. And then, when the girl decided to look at Haven and the rest like they were scum: "I used to have people like that bitch who kept me on speed dial, and I always had their respect,".

The latter was low, so quiet it didn't even qualify as a whisper, but she didn't say anything to them. Mostly because she found herself wide-eyed as Amiee spoke up, just about cutting them off where they stood. Nice girl has an edge, Haven thought, looking over at her and smiling lightly. They were leaving, anyway, and Haven was a nice, clean, Baker now. The most she could do without her getting calls from both her mother and David, yelling at her for landing herself in jail, was never serve them in the bakery again.

She could do that.

Haven smiled and cocked her head in their direction as they left, and then Theo mentioned how awkward the whole encounter had been, and then chatter between their group started up again.

"Yea Amiee's right, they're dense. Don't know what they're talking about, and even then... they probably dare each other to ring the doorbell of our house at night -- egg it and stuff-- for the kick of it, so remember their faces. We can sue if they start to harass us and our building, right? That sounds right," she said, nodding her head with a quick resoluteness.

Olav was talking again, and Haven went from looking at Amiee, who sat across her, to looking at Olav.

"I don't know who lived there before, but I mean... a lot of old houses are 'haunted' and frankly the idea that just because a place is 'haunted' means it's scary is bullshit. I mean-- if you were dead, you that automatically make you super evil? Even if it is haunted I don't think we'd be in danger. If you guys want to find out we can always buy a Ouija board--" she trailed off, her hands waving and her lips tilting into a smirk.

"I bet we could find out once and for all that way. Or, we could go home to our probably not haunted house and eat pie that I so lovingly made for us all, go to bed, and live our lives in our completely normal house," she finished, bumping Theo with her hip lightly so he would stand.


"Come on, before the ghosts eat it instead of us,"

---

The bonding thing had worked-- they were a bit more chatty in the car (or at least Haven was-- though she was just naturally talkative). Haven sat by Amiee, whom she figured might not be as preppy-girly as she thought originally. Hey, maybe Haven could sneak into some of her classes and see what they were like.

Haven used to dream of college, but it was a completely hopeless dream now-- she hadn't exactly passed high school with all A's, what with what she did on the side, and even so, who would pay for it? Haven didn't mind her salary and her work at the bakery (Hugo sometimes talked about giving it over to her when he was older)-- but she did sort of want to see what it was like.

The sun was drooping in the sky by the time they got back, and Haven stretched her legs outside of the car, looking around at the tall and impressive house.

"So, the important question here is did anyone remember to bring their keys," she said, fully serious if not for the slight humorous tone to her voice.

Mabel for the most part didn't mind sticking by Aimee on their little bonding trip, though Mabel still didn't bother to go out of her way to make any small talk. She was content with letting the others talk, watching them from her seat and smiling a little as she listened. Of course her smile would break anytime she happened to make eye contact with anyone, in fear they may find her quietness just a bit creepy. As for the whole pizza part of the deal Mabel found herself surprised by how easily she was able to eat. Maybe it was the change of pace, or perhaps the fear of showing any outward signs of her troubles while around her roommates, whatever the case it seemed to have calmed her nervous stomach enough that she didn't even balk at the idea of eating.

When asked about their reasons for coming to the Wicker House, Mabel pointedly kept quiet. Though she took a mild interest in everyones reason. In her opinion sharing her own reason would probably only bring the mood down, and she didn't feel like launching into any kind of story about her life, whether she were to shorten it or not. However in a way hearing the others talk so casually helped with her reservations about the entire situation. Bonding suddenly didn't seem so horrible in comparison to how she saw it before.

Until some of Theos "friends" showed up. Perhaps friends is too strong of a word, but anything short of it probably wouldn't gather this amount of familiarity. She watches with mild interest until they start talking about the house; "Ghost House, actually." and those are the very words that had Mabels logical side taking over. She tries not to choke on a mouthful of water, but finds it hard not to let out a small, humorless laugh after hearing it.

"Ghosts? What a crock," She mumbles into her final bite of food. Stifling her amused smile and hoping that they didn't hear her. Its honestly funny that they would be mentioning ghosts of all things. Mabel being someone who relies heavily on thinking in a rational way really wants to let it slide and pretend she never heard. But she has to admit that somewhere deep inside theres a very real, and very irrational fear there thats going to end up keeping her awake tonight for reasons other than withdrawal.

"Have you nothing better to do?" Aimee snaps, and Mabel tries not to jump a little at the unexpected force. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily they apparently decide to leave after that. "Now let's go Mike. I don't want my greek salad to get soggy, leave Teddy to have recover from our awesome bash with his....uh..friends." Mabel is almost sad when they leave, because despite how rude they were at least they were a cheap form of entertainment for a while. After that Mabel wipes her mouth and places her napkin down, only halfway listeningg to the others as she ponders their words.

Sure, Mabel can pretend all she wants that there isn't a side of her that actually believes in the paranormal, but shes never really been one for lying to herself let alone others. She starts paying attention again when Haven mentions buying a Ouija board, and though Mabel feels utterly self concious she can't help herself from speaking up.

"Sounds like fun," It doesn't sound like fun at all. Mabel doesn't let her mental reservations show.

---

Mabel is glad to say that she isn't completely silent as they make their way back to the house, though still reserved to a point she doesn't continue to feel as uncomfortable. Shes still thinking about the whole ghost thing, but keeps those thoughts under wraps until they finally return home. Haven mentions something about keys and that sends Mabel into a frantic flurry as she digs in her pockets, realizing that shes forgotten hers. Something she will have to make a mental note to not forget in the future. Luckily Theo has his and opens the door, and Mabel gladly rushes up to her room to change into night clothes. Consisting simply of sweatpants and a loose top that seems to swamp her.

On her return downstairs she paused just at the doorway of the kitchen, feeling a little out of place still but much less so. Even though shes already regretting the pizza (her nerves finally caught up to her once she was safely inside the house) she can't help but want to eat a piece of pie. Nobody, not even someone who spends as much time as she does feeling sick can deny a piece of pie. Its simply impossible.

"So what do you think?" Mabel asks Theo, as she notices him also in the kitchen with her. She feels mildly flustered at seeing him shirtless but stifles it almost instantly - no way is she going to go down that road. Nope, not ever. Not even for a million bucks. "About the Ouija board thing I mean..." She says a second later, feeling as if she had left the initial question a little too open.

Will awoke in a daze and groggily looked around the room. He reached up and rubbed his right shoulder trying to rub out a little bit of stiffness. It was then decided that a hot shower would be the best cure to relieve his ills. Grabbing some athetic shorts, a clean pair of underwear, a white t-shirt, and his toiletries, he headed towards the bathroom.

The hot water felt great on his shoulder and the steam cleared his sinuses. Will lingered there for time letting the water cascade down his back before washing up. As Will rinsed the shampoo from his hair, he swore he felt cold fingers run down his right shoulder blade. Almost simultaneously, he heard a soft voice in her ear.

"Does it still hurt?"

Will spun while wiping water out of his eyes. Was he hearing things? Will slide back the curtain slightly and glancedraw around the bathroom. Seeing no signs of life, Will shook his head and rubbed his eyes.

"Must be hearing things," He said to himself.

With that Will finished rinsing and turned the water off. While he dried and put his clothes on, Will heard footsteps up and down the stairs.

"Now that was not a figment of my imagination."

Throwing the towel around his neck, Will walked out of the bathroom and headed down the stairs. He followed the sounds of voices and dinnerware coming from the kitchen. Stopping in the entry, Will knocked on the doorframe in the classic tune of 'shave and a haircut' to draw attention to himself and plastered an award winning smile on his face.

"Hey guys. How're yall?"

Eying the pecan pie, he stepped into the kitchen to introduce himself to the other tenants of Wicker House.

---

Thankfully, Theo seemed to be the more prepared of the group, and had brought his keys-- good, because from the look of Mabel patting her pockets, she had not, and Haven hadn't either. Haven took everyone else's cue to dress for bed and ran upstairs, rummaging through her closet to get to where her pajamas were.

Oddly enough, in start contrast to what she wore outside-- her sleeping clothes were a lot more flowery. She liked to sleep in her underwear-- she didn't exactly live in a very cold climate-- but because she was going out of her room she pulled an opaque robe that was covered in rose-patterns from her closet after taking off her pullover and shorts and slung it over her shoulders, tying the knot at her waist very quickly. She pulled her hair up and left her feet bare, shrugged at her appearance in the mirror, and turned.

Shit, she thought, where did I leave my wallet. I'm sure I left it on the bed...

Haven ducked to look under the bed, and when that failed to find anything, she lifted the cover off the bed and looked-- nothing.

Well I can't plan a search-and-rescue now, I'll have to find it later, she thought, sighed, and rushed down the stairs.

The first thing she noticed was that Theo was shirtless- well, actually, it was that Mabel looked so out of place she might explode, but then she noticed Theo was shirtless.

"Careful, Theo, you might offend our womanly sensibilities," she snarked, placing a hand about her chest and pretending to gasp. "Oh dear, I'll never find a husband now! My reputation is ruined, just ruined!"

Then, smiling, she turned and began to dole out pie-slices onto plates, passing them about the table.

Haven almost completely ignored the knocking, when it came-- she'd heard a few noises in the house today, and old houses did make noise, but when it was followed by a man introducing himself, she did look up.

For a moment she wondered if perhaps she should take the knife in her hands and do something, because she'd never seen this man in her house before, and all her roommates were accounted for, but he seemed... he didn't seem like a burglar. And they did have free rooms, it wouldn't be completely strange that someone else had moved in.

"Fine, thanks. Are you another roommate? Ms. Burns didn't mention one," she said, cutting another slice of pie and sliding it his way when she noted how he looked at the treat. She could be hospitable.

"Hey have any of you seen my wallet. I just had it, and I mean it only had like an old movie ticket and ten bucks in it, nothing else, but it's weird because I had it when I walked through that door. Did anyone see me throw it on like a couch or something? That seems like something I would do," she chuckled lightly as she took a slice of pie she'd put on a plate and took a bite of it.

Olav had parked his cab outside the house and sat down at the dining table with the others. There was a new roommate, who came in an introduced himself. Olav gave a friendly nod towards him. Meanwhile, Haven was serving the pie she had baked in the morning, before asking them if they had seen her wallet.
"You sure you had it with you when we got back? Maybe you left it at the pizza joint?" Olav asked.
"I'll go see if that is the case." he said, flashing a wink at Haven. "Don't sweat it Ginger, it's the least I can do to repay the favor of you baking pie for us. Anyways I was thinking about picking up a six pack at the liquor store. I'll shoot you a text message if I find it there!"

---

Having gone upstairs to her room to change, just like everyone else had, Aimee was back in yoga pants and the lose tank top. She, too, poked the fun at Theo's shirtless appearance, right after Haven's quip. "Should have told me the dress code. Now I feel underdressed." She smirked, and hardly even bothered further questioning the new guy, but though everyone was taking place in the pie-eating, Aimee walked over to the fridge, grabbed an orange, and began to peel it.

Why not pie, you say?

Pie doesn't taste good after a proper upchucking. Then again, neither does the acidity of a citrus fruit feel good against a grainy throat that's just been laced in stomach acid, but it feels better than pecans and crust scratching the walls.

Why the upchucking, you say?

Aimee originally had gone in to the bathroom to let out her hair and brush it, since they were all getting ready for bed any how. And then she remembered the pizza, and how pizza looked on thighs. And how thighs looked in photographs. And -- well, it all escalated rather quickly.

So there she was, tossing the cookies she'd collected throughout the day when all of a sudden, a tiny little hand patted her right shoulder and began to pull back her hair for her.

"It's going to be okay."

At first, Aimee choked up, thinking it was Haven or Mabel. She began to cry, thinking herself an idiot for not shutting the door, or locking it. - But wait, she had[/] shut it. She [i]had locked it. Looking over her shoulder, there was no one, but she could have sworn there was a hand at her shoulder, patting her down, holding back her hair.

If weight wasn't a motivator enough to want to throw up, the chill down her spine that the college kids may not have been so wrong definitely gave her another go at it. For good measure.

---

Aimee had elected to take her orange upstairs to her room. It didn't take long for her to fall asleep, even with the chills, because fatigue gathered the body that had removed it's contents. She felt cold, her bones shivering beneath the covers, and she found she couldn't warm up even when she pulled a hoodie over her tank.

At precisely 3:09AM, she bolted awake when her own screams woke her. She stopped as soon as she realized it came from herself, her eyes wide. Did she wake anyone? Would they worry? What if they came in here?

She pushed her head back on to her pillow and feigned sleep just as soon as she'd sat up. If anyone was going to come, they wouldn't know it was her. Maybe they'd be as spooked out as she was over the whole thing. She couldn't even recall her dream.

It wouldn't be until she woke up around 6:57AM that she bothered to step out of the bed and begin her stretches for yoga. "And a jog." She told herself. Classes started at 10:15AM. She'd have time for it all, to get ready, grab a bite, and then walk towards downtown.

---

Haven laughed as Theo demanded pie, and slid a slice his way while she rolled her eyes.

"I thought I didn't have any child roommates, I guess I was wrong," she said, taking another bite of her own pie.

Eventually, though, the metaphorical candles did die down, and everyone seemed to be headed to bed. Haven was one of the last to do so-- when everyone was gone she found herself singing a tune from something-or-another, moving her hips slightly in time with the beat as she slid the almost-gone pie into the fridge. Once standing, she stretched her arms and smiled. She'd done good-- or at least she'd made it through the day without anyone explicitly hating her.

She was just about to turn around when she suddenly felt as if someone were brushing her hair. Haven seized up and her entire body felt suddenly quite cold, but she still got out a few words.

"Go away," she whispered, her voice icy in the empty room. She didn't truly think it was one of the other tenants, but her mind wouldn't let her think anything else, so she turned around, bringing her hand up to hit whomever was touching her without her permission.

No one. There was a slight clang and Haven shifted to look over the bar, crinkled her forehead, and went around.

Haven didn't have especially large hands-- her fingers were long and thin, like the rest of her-- but as she leaned down and picked up the small, purple thing on the ground, she found her hand was much bigger than it. One hand clutched her robe together and the other wrapped around-- well, it was a brush. Haven drew her fingers over the small bristles, her eyes wide, then she, with all the force of a small tornado, threw the doll's brush onto the counter and ran all the way to her room, breathing heavily as she laid down to rest.

---

Haven hadn't slept well, that was the least of it; she'd tossed, turned, and when she'd finally actually gotten down into a deep rest, she was always awoken by something or other-- footsteps in the hallway, a child's laugher right by her ear, and at three a.m-- someone screaming.

Haven almost ignored it, like she'd ignored everything else, but that had sounded more substantial, so she found herself pulling her robe about her shoulders and exiting her room. There was no one in the hallway, but she was sure she'd heard--Haven stepped into the hall and padded up and down it once, just on the balls of her feet so she didn't wake anyone, and she was almost back to her room, confused and wondering who'd screamed, when her foot caught on the side of something and she leaned down to pick it up.

Her wallet.

Haven was sure she'd not left it on the floor in the hall-- she'd have seen it, wouldn't she? Before bed? It was right in front of her room, after all. Still, Haven picked it up and threw it onto her dresser as she flopped back into bed, this time intent on going to sleep until she had to wake up at six-thirty. She needed rest so she wouldn't accidentally hurt herself making sweets at the Bakery. So, with that thought, she found herself turning into a restless night until she woke at 5:30, her eyes blinking.

Haven didn't forget the things that had happened to her over the course of the last day, so much as she repressed them-- she had other things to think about, and there were logical explanations to everything (even if her mind couldn't supply them at the moment). And, again, she didn't believe in malicious ghosts, so even if the place was haunted there was no way she thought herself in danger.

Haven found herself pulling on an outfit from the back of her closet and grabbing her phone from where she'd set it to charge and slipping it into her pocket. She still had a ton of time (well, an hour before she wanted to be at work), so she found herself downstairs, erasing the note Amiee had left and replacing it with a quick message that relayed her number in case someone needed her, and reminding everyone that she'd be at the bakery if she was needed.

With time left to spare, she got herself a cup of coffee, and then got a book from her room-- a thin novel Hugo had loaned her about something, she wasn't sure. It was good, at least the few parts she'd read, so she soon found herself downstairs, her feet hung over the back of the couch as she leaned on the cushions, reading the book while she tapped her feet in the air, trying her best to waste time before she wanted to go down to the bakery. Nothing was stopping her from going already, but she didn't want to start baking just yet, for whatever reason. Her limbs were still not-quite-awake-- she figured the coffee would fix that, as she took a sip from her cup while she turned the page.

It was a cold winter morning; only fir trees all around in every direction. Olav ran, limped rather, as his right leg was injured. His breathing was heavy, creating frozen air puffs in the chilly morning air with every breath. Olav looked exhausted, appearing almost as though he was about to collapse into the snowy ground. If it wasn't for the brown-haired boy who was bracing his shoulder up, who had a curious resemblance to Theo, he would have surely collapsed.
The boys stopped, seeing something ahead. It was a doe deer, looking at them from the trees with curious eyes. It than sprang off into the woods. A look of excitement came to the brown-haired lad's eyes.
"Did you see that?" The boy said to Olav enthusiastically. "The fjords frozen! We can cross it!"
Olav smiled faintly. The forest was completely silent, save for their heavy breathing and crunching of snow beneath their feet.
Just then, the sound of a rifle firing shot through the forest, loud as thunder.

Olav opened his eyes, seeing the gray ceiling of his room. He sat up on his bed, looking about with a blank expression on his face. He got dressed into his work clothes - beige trousers, black loafers, and a gray button-up shirt. He headed downstairs quietly to not wake anyone up. He spotted Haven on the couch reading a book.
"Morning my dear!" He said as he walked over to the kitchen. "Did you get my text message? I couldn't find your wallet at the pizza joint."
He brewed himself a cup of coffee in the kitchen and sat himself down at the table. Looking about as he sipped his coffee, something catched his eyes in the living room/ lounge area - it was an antique piano, with a cloth covering it. Olav walked over to it and removed the cloth, amazed that he had not discovered it until now.
"Wow, " he said to Haven. "Did you know there was a piano here the whole time?"
It was a beautiful grand piano that was still in excellent condition. He pressed a couple notes, pleased that they still made the correct sounds. He set his mug of coffee on the side, sat down on the stool, and began playing Dvorak's Humoresque In G Flat, Op.101, No.7.

---

"Perhaps, you'd find yourself resting more comfortably outside of the classroom, Ms. Scott." The professor slammed a ruler down maybe six inches from her forearm - the one that had presented itself as a reasonable horizontal surface for sleeping during class. Aimee jumped up with a start, bolting upright in her chair. She was pretty sure she shared this class with William Reid - so this was double embarrassing. Awesome.

"I'm, I'm very sorry. That was rude of m--"

"I don't have any more time to waste on your excuse than I do waking you up if only to kick you out. Come prepared next time - and that includes the mentality to function."

Aimee opened her mouth to protest, but gathered her belongings anyhow. "I--"

"Out the door, Ms. Scott. And might I add, not the best way to start off your semester here at Em Pale Uni."

---

It wasn't until after Aimee was out in to the corridor and walking towards the doors to get to the courtyard that she realized the professor's nickname for the university sounded a great deal like Impale. She laughed, and checked that off her list of things to call it once mid terms and finals came around to ruin her existence.

---

The rest of her classes took little to no time at all - or so it felt. It was the usual, "Welcome to the Semester. Here's the Obligatory Sheet of all the Things We'll be Learning About. Here's the Dates to All of the Exams. This Will be Inevitably Changed. Fair Warning." Repeat that for four classes, and you've got five o'clock in the afternoon hitting with a bus ride commute back towards the house. Sure, for lunch, Aimee did sneak a peak in to the cafe Haven was said to work within - though instead of chatting much with either her nor the man who ran the place, she grabbed her latte and baguette and was out the door just as soon as she'd arrived.

As per the first day she'd arrived, the bus wouldn't drive her all the way up to the doorstep, so Aimee was left to walk up the drive. It was a good mile, she'd wager, but it was just as good for the silence it allowed her.

Well, it would have been silent, but it appeared as if someone brought home a dog. She wasn't entirely sure what the policy on dogs was in the Wicker House, let alone the property. While she was an animal person, she was aware they were no small feat to care for and there was a reason boys gave their girlfriends dogs as pets before having kids because 1) it bought them time before that responsibility and 2) a dog was similar - even if only in a fraction.

This dog started a few yards out, running about with a trashed up yellow tennis ball. She'd heard it's playful barks before she saw the beagle charging up the way - well, charging as much as a beagle could muster. Aimee smiled by default, hunching down in her hiking boots and shorts to pet it as it drew closer.

The dog didn't stop, nor did it slow as it reached her. It kept running, panting, and was getting closer, and closer, and it was just about to pounce on top of her - which she had no doubt would tilt her on her backpack from impact - when it barked, lunged, and ---

---

And what the fuck just happened?

Aimee blinked, standing upright and turning around. There had been no impact. No touch. No feel. No smell. No saliva from it's jaws.

And no trace it'd even been there. Well, that was a lie. The yellow, beaten tennis ball rolled down the hill and tapped the toe of her hiking boot. It was a gesture so small, so real, that it sent shivers up her spine with the realization that only part of what she'd just witnessed was real.

She swallowed, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one had seen her - or to verify they saw it, too. No one was present, though. Just the gardener, and she was hunched well over in to the pits of the bushes that surrounded the house. Her brim hat seemed to keep her from looking much anywhere than her forward focus.

As she made it to the front, up the steps, and in to the doorway, Aimee took in a deep breath and leaned against the wood of the entry way, sliding down the wall and in to the floor of the foyer. She closed her eyes, and chose just to breathe.

---

Haven's back cracked noisily as she bent to look at Olav, from her position splayed out backwards on the couch. It wasn't comfortable, but she liked hanging her feet from the back of the chair, and her smile was lopsided as Olav said hello.

"Hullo," she said by way of greeting, before leaning back into a semi-normal position to take a sip of her drink.

"I actually-- I found it. It was really strange," she began. Haven's face took on an odd look when she was confused-- her forehead creased deeply and her lips curled to the side, her lips taut. "I found it." she said, eventually, after a thick moment of silence. "I found it."

Haven went back to reading then, her back bending at an odd angle as she read upside-down, tapping her for rhythmically against the air. Olav found the piano, then-- Haven hadn't noticed it before, but when he said it the entire thing became quite obvious-- it was large and quite obnoxious in the room, taking up far too much space.

"No I hadn't noticed it before," she said, turning to a normal position that didn't make her look like some sort of cat-in-the-sun, her legs crossed at the ankle, like the way her mother used to say a proper lady sat. Whatever that meant. She folded her coffee cup in her hands and took sips silently as Olav began to play.


Haven didn't often listen to classical music-- the kind of music she preferred was so loud she couldn't think right, and she listened to it because she liked it that way. Still, she sat, and it was calming. She almost felt the need to go to sleep, but she didn't-- instead, when he finished, she rolled her shoulders and stood, taking her coffee cup to the sink and washing it out.

"That was very pretty, Olav, you should play for the rest of the group, later," Haven called, with one hand on the door. "I have to run."

---

Haven's work day was often hectic-- students of the university had taken notice of the calming atmosphere of the cafe, and Haven's work was cut out for her simply keeping the foods (sandwiches, pastries, whatever else suited Haven's fancy on any given day) stocked in the large glass cases in the front of the cafe, right near the register.

Still, sometimes Hugo couldn't do his work on his own-- take the coffee orders and fill them, so some days they would both take over the register, and fill orders alternating between who was at the register and who made coffee. It was much more efficient, but it produced behind the counter a sort of tornado as Hugo and Haven bumped into one another, apologized, and Haven desperately tried to remember when she needed to get what out of the oven.

This was the state in which Amiee found Haven, with her breath caught in her throat as she slid up to behind the counter, smiling not because she had to, but because she did actually enjoy the hectic atmosphere. It was what she had been used to, back home (Haven still thought of New Orleans as home, no matter what). It was a weak comparison, but she loved it none-the-less.

Amiee didn't seem in the mood to chat, and because they were not roommates in this cafe, she was a customer and Haven was a worker. So, Haven filled her order and she was out just as soon as she came, with hardly a "hello" shared between them.

---

By the time Haven found herself sitting in her (Hugo's) car, everything about her felt on fire, and her feet burned in her shoes. She smiled, however, as she pulled herself out of the car with a barely-conceiled groan, checking the time on her phone as she did. It was nearing ten o'clock at night-- the sun was gone, and it was quite cold. She hugged herself together as she walked around the other side of the car, pulling some things from the back. She had her hands around a large white box-- the things that wouldn't be at their full potential the next day, the things that Haven refused to serve in the shop. A few chunks of bread, a cupcake or two, some pastries-- at the end of the day she and Hugo split whatever needed to go, Hugo always getting a bit more, and Hugo drove it to a food kitchen for the homeless, and Haven brought a few things home. This was how they'd always worked, and it was a comforting system, especially because so many uncomfortable things having happened in the past few days.

It was at that thought that Haven felt a tug at the side of her shirt, which Haven almost ignored, before it became more than one tug, before it became a pull. At that, Haven turned, setting the white box on top of the car. She turned and was confronted with a little boy. He was roughened, or it appeared so-- he was covered in dark sports of dirt, and his shirt was untucked-- but other than that he appeared with a certain kind of rich-gamin quality, his hair rough against his face, but it appeared as if he knew what to do with it, and his shirt showed signs of having been nice, a long time ago.

"Um... Hi," Haven said, unsure what to do with herself. Haven wasn't the best with kids, she never had been-- never had time for them, for one, and even beyond that she was rough and she knew that-- she may be good at faking it, but years upon years of the kind of thing she'd done-- she snapped too easily, and children seemed to pick up on that. They didn't like her, and she in turn did not like them.

"I'm looking for my dog," the boy said. His voice was shocking,in a way, in that it was powerful and ethereal, much more so than a child of his size should have been able to manage.

"I haven't seen a dog, kid, isn't it a bit late? Go back home," Haven said, running a hand through his hair and shaking it out with her fingers. He was cold in a way that he shouldn't have been, but the night was cold as well, so Haven simply left it at that, even when a slight shiver flowed through her and she pulled her hand back.

"I'm looking for my dog," he said again, and Haven shook her head.

"Haven't seen him. If you really want go look around, I won't stop you. It's your funeral," she said, grabbing the box. She tried to step around him, but he stepped forward and blocked her. "Hey kid, let me through."

"I'm looking for my dog,"

"I know kid, let me through," now Haven was exasperated, and she took another step towards the door. The boy then grabbed her hand, which sent a wide shiver all the way up Haven's arm. He was stronger than he should have been, at least initially, but his grip seemed to weaken the more he held on. Haven tried to pull her arm away as she lifted the white box higher in her hand.

"I'm looking for my dog!" the boy yelled, then, and he looked quite angry. Haven yanked away from him then, finally, and began a quick jog to the door. Her heart was racing-- she slipped the key into the lock, shaking, and listened to the click and watched it slide open. She turned, then to look--

No kid.

Haven refused to let this bother her-- he'd run off, into the bushes, right? But it didn't feel right. It settled deep in her bones and made her feel as if she'd forgotten something, but she was sure she hadn't. Haven slid the box with some difficulty in the fridge, shaking her head and pressing a hand to her chest, evening her breathing slowly.

It was late, this was a creepy house, with creepy neighbors.

They'd be creepy if we had any, but we don't, something said in the bottom of her gut, but she ignored it. Creepy neighbors located somewhere she didn't know the location of, but a quick enough walk away for a little kid to make it.

Right.

Sure.


Haven slid into the bar and laid her head in her hands, groaning and sliding until her arms splayed out in front of her, her face against the cold countertop.