Dear Husband (Sinner's Society:ONE) REWRITING***

Chapter 13.

Song of the Chapter: PITBULL - Remixed (Mixed By DJ Teapot)

(PAST)

(Paris' Point of View)

         It's an old warehouse way up in the foothills. Nothing is anywhere around because everything was wiped out in those fires a couple of years ago. I can feel dirt and masonry crunch beneath my Harley Davidson motorcycle boots as I walk through the open door. The air in warehouse smells like dusty and dank, of dirt and moldering wood. My nose screws up at the strange smell. There is something else– something acrid and unpleasantly familiar – almost subsumed by the smell of old oil and rust-eaten metal.

The sound of water dripping somewhere is almost ominous.

Taking a deep breath I shuffle inside and my eyes scanning the area. Visibility is almost nil except for the faint glow of the halogen lights attached behind the top of the pillars, bouncing on the brick walls.

I feel something hit my boots making squeaking noses, causing my heart to almost jump out of my skin, but I manage to turn the flashlight of my phone on in time to see two large fat rats disappears in the shadow near the farthest wall.

"I've got to make some changes in my life," I mumble to myself, once I've recovered and shake myself out moving deeper inside.

A scream pierces through the eeriness. 

My insides still, the tiny hair on my nape stands erect.

A deep terror pulls at my chest.

My shocked face turns around, the flashlight follows along, my eyes tracking the direction to scan the grey walls, some portion covered in graffiti, dust covered file racks, huge machines that I'm sure saw better days.

I gulp. "Ivan." I call out and grit my teeth when my voice echoes back hitting my ears.

The other hand stuffed in my leather jacket, my fingers tight around my butterfly knife and I curl my shoulders as a shiver ripples through. I try to set my fear aside. But everything around me feel creepy and haunted.

Another scream and I distinctively hear it off a man.

My heart ravages my chest as the anxiety swell.

Enough! Run! Self-preservation yells in my head. My feet try to follow taking few steps back. The shakes set in as the phone in my hand trembles so does the light.

"Damnit!" I curse under my breathe, jaw clamp tightly and moodily stare at small distant that ends at a staircase. I don't fucking no where to find the creep motherfucker, who the hell is he and what creep calls someone in a place like this.

THUD.

A loud clatter comes from the floor above. It comes hard, like something has toppled over from a great height.

I jerk back feeling more spooked, quickly turning my face up staring at the dark ceiling, and lift my hand focusing the flashlight to find broken overhead light hang from iron-beam ceiling. My teeth absently chew on my lips as I wait for another sound.

From above comes a scurrying noise, like a very large rat is poking around. I squint at the ceiling and wait some more. My ears listen hard, trying to figure out just what the hell it was. From what I remember, ghosts don't usually make much noises. They don't move around like they are trying to be quiet and failing at it. Rats don't move like that either, especially not in Chicago.

I pick up another sound now. Footsteps. Then a metallic jangling.

It is definitely a person.

If it's Ivan then I'm going to shoot him. Turning my face forward, I take in a deep breath and ignore all the possible scenarios that waits for me above. What is the point in figuring out who it is, or what is going to happen? If I get out of there without them seeing me, then worrying is fruitless. I'll call Jennifer, tell her about how Dekker—the clean-up guy and this Ivan—who Dekker told me to meet to get firearms have harassed me.