Village of sorrow ~ Ethan Winters x Reader

Wishful Thinking

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Chapter IV.
Wordcount: 4388

You woke up. The house was cold.

It was near morning, possibly 7am? Blue, cold morning light shone through the frozen windows, accurately reflecting the temperature of the room itself.

You yawned tiredly and a small condense cloud filled the air. The last embers of the fireplace weakly blinked on the burnt wood.

The room was empty, save for a stray mice boldly staring at you. It's big beady eyes anxiously watching from a dark corner. You ignored the critter and looked around.

No one was home.

What about the stranger?

"Ethan?"

You called out softly. If he'd be in earshot he would've heard, and you weren't interested in calling unneeded attention your way.

Squeek squeek!

A tiny black shadow shot out of the kitchen, hastily dragging a piece of dry bread over the wooden floors and nearly stumbling over itself. The little mouse squeeked a few more times before it shot back into it's hole.

Your eyebrows crinkled up in thought.

Maybe he was hiding from the mice? Some of the greatest heroes in your books had the strangest fears anyhow. It could be that the stranger was afraid of the small infestation and ran.

It was then when you noticed a small piece of paper next to you, it read:

-

(....), this is Ethan.

I'm writing this as a quick notice to where I went. I'm quickly checking the place around for any clue's on my daughter's whereabouts. I want to leave this place as fast as possible.

Please, just stay put in the house.
I'll come back for you once I find her.

If I don't, then it's best to start thinking of a few ways to get out of here yourself.

-

You scanned the letter over a few times and folded it back up, putting it back down on the wooden planks. You wanted to take it with you, but the linen dress didn't have any pockets.

Funny, a few days ago you were happily spinning around with the new piece of attire, and now it was just about the most useless thing you could have in your possession. You didn't want to think about Mary, didn't want to acknowledge that the dress you were scolding was the only thing you had left of her.

Maybe it was better that way for now. To just, ignore what had happened.

You got up from the floor with some effort and stretched yourself out before walking towards the window.

How long had it been since he wrote this? What if the stranger had died?

You didn't know him, didn't know his skills or if the possibility of him surviving was a dumb matter to take a gamble on. You didn't even know what was out there! Didn't know why, he was so afraid of it. A father looking for his baby in the middle of, this...?

You felt a twist in your stomach, flashing back to yesterday. If Mary had been killed so easily, if the entire tavern didn't stand a chance against what was out there, why would one man-and an infant do?

You firmly shook your head and rested your hands on your closed eyes.

'If I don't, then it's best to start thinking of a few ways to get out of here yourself.'