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The winter gust was vicious

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The winter gust was vicious. It twirled violently, carrying glacier particles that were just as cruel. The wind and snow together engulfed the escaping boy, scratching the delicate reddening skin of his cheeks.

The boy fell on a freezing pile but quickly got up with difficulty and continued running. The snow-covered ground made it harder to move, but driven by his survival instinct, Ilya managed.

It was too dangerous to stop, too dangerous even to look back and check if anyone was following him. Despite the cruelty of the blizzard, Ilya thanked the snow for covering his tracks, so Charlie wouldn't have a chance to chase after him this time.

Ilya couldn't see his way back to the subway station. He pushed along the storm with trembling arms. Shaking slim fingers covered his face. He tried to peek, to see a shelter he could hide in until the storm was gone. All he could see was the thick snow.

Until he bumped into a wall. Ilya touched it and walked alongside it till he found a door. He hesitated before turning the knob.

What if there's someone worse than Charlie waiting for me in there?

The thought itself made him shiver way worse than the cold. Despite these dreadful thoughts, Ilya realized that he would die out here without shelter.

There's no other choice.

And so, he turned the doorknob and went inside this new cottage. The first thing he did was take a deep breath of warm air before closing the door behind him.

He slid down along the door, breathing calmly. He slid his hands into the front pockets of his blue hoody, rubbing them together. He stayed on the floor, warming his shivering little body. It was nice to feel warm again.

The warmth came from a lit fireplace. Which meant, he was not alone.

The moment he decided to turn his head around and check this place, he smelled an awful smell. A smell worse than Charlie's kitchen. A smell that made him sick. A smell that reminded him of the time he and his friends found a dead cat that began to decompose in an alley.

A smell of death.

Ilya froze when a sound traveled from a dark corridor on his right. Cold sweat trickled down the side of his face, damping his dark chocolatey hair. He slowly turned in the direction of the aggressive sound until it became louder and clearer—it was a growl.

"Who... "Ilya started, with a quivering weak voice. "Who's there?"

A pair of bright eyes appeared in that corridor. Then suddenly, the growling creature roared and jumped out of the dark. All Ilya could glimpse at that moment was black tangled hair flying toward him.

The cold wash that went down Ilya's back, the quick sudden breath that left his throat, and the way he curled up on himself just like an infant, only meant one thing—This was the moment he'd die.

Shivering in a corner, holding back a scream that escaped when the barking started, Ilya realized he wasn't dead... yet.

The creature growled and barked at his face, but it never touched him. Ilya could feel the wet spits flying on his hands and the rotten smell burning his senses.

"What is it, Martha? Oh, goodie!" a lady's elevated voice came into the room. "You found a friend."

Ilya was shaking when he found the courage to peek at his attacker.

It was a teenage girl in a Victorian wedding dress, all ripped apart and dirty with puke and dried blood. A metal collar hung on her neck, with a chain attached to it that was keeping her from going further. She kept barking at him until the lady pulled the chain and told her to calm down.

"Martha, shush. Don't scare your friend."

Martha took a step back and sat like an obedient dog on all four.

Ilya slowly moved his arms away from his face. His chest rose and fell as he watched Martha look him dead in the eye with a glowing yellow stare.

One side of Martha's face was peeled with maggots eating her flesh away. Her mouth was cut in the middle, showing sharp teeth like the ones Charlie had in Ilya's nightmare.

Ilya couldn't make up what kind of creature this Martha was, but he knew one thing for sure—Using Charlie's words, she was not one of the living.

"Sorry about my daughter's behavior," the lady said with a beautiful smile surrounded by ruby red lipstick. "She's still learning."

Ilya tore his attention away from Martha and to the lady.

Her hair was pulled into a perfect bun. A white bonnet sat on her head so flawlessly. Her dress was spotlessly clean, and her face was stunningly beautiful. She looked like an angel in all white.

But there was something off about her overly cheery smile.

"You must be freezing."

Ilya opened his mouth to answer, but only air came out. His big frightful gaze shifted between the lady and the chained dead girl she was holding by her side. The lady made Martha's presence seem so normal.

There was nothing normal about this meeting.

Then his stomach growled.

"Oh, you poor thing." The lady came closer and touched his cheek. "You're hungry."

Her hand was colder than his blizzard-touched skin. It made Ilya shiver.

"Come have dinner with us by the cozy fire." She gestured towards the dining table across the hall. "It's almost ready."

Ilya was afraid that this lady would let Martha loose on him if he rejected her invitation. After Charlie, Ilya learned not to trust a friendly person in this cursed town.

With the cold harsh storm waiting for him outside, and this messed up small family trapping him inside, Ilya had one reply.

"Thanks... I'm starving."

I'm back with a spooky new chapter

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I'm back with a spooky new chapter. Hehehe >:3

Do you trust the pretty lady? And what's up with Martha?

Ilya's journey isn't over yet. It's gonna be one hell of a ride!

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