starry eyes ✮ slashers.

chapter 009.

nine. out of my head.

She waited there for Tom, the fear coursing through her veins shielding her from the cold she's surrounded by. His journey is almost halved in duration at the danger and he pulls her into a warm embrace as soon as he's close enough.

"I got a weird feeling so i looked around and the closet door was open, my necklace is gone and then i noticed the holes in the eyes of he painting opposite our bed. I removed the painting and they go all the way through to the shed like a peep hole. Then i heard breathing under our bed. I know i sound a bit crazy—"

Lyra's rants are ended by Tom pulling back and pressing a kiss to her lips. He's never quite understood how comforting works, but seeing the light blush on her cheeks tells him he's done a fairly decent job.

"You're not crazy. I believe you, I've had that feeling here too. I know I should tell you to wait out here while I check it out but I'd rather have you by my side, in all honesty it's where you're safest." Tom tells her, taking the keys from her hand and replacing it with his hand, twisting the keys in the door as quietly as he can.

They step in and he locks the door behind them, giving the keys back to Lyra.

"If something happens, you run and get in my car, there's a spare key on the house keys." Tom whispers into her hair and Lyra nods in understanding, fully believing her boyfriend can handle himself against a home intruder.

Tom leads her down the hall and into the guest room just past their bedroom, he reaches into the wardrobe and his hand returns clutching the tool that was made for him. Harry Warden's pickaxe.

He feels that familiar itch in his mind as he looks at the large weapon and grabs Lyra's hand with his free one, pulling her along in the hopes to free him from it.

He slowly twists the doorknob to their bedroom and enters, wasting no time in swinging his weapon under their bed but it meets no resistance.

"The bastard's moved." He mutters, swinging the wardrobe door open, unpleased when he finds it lacking an intruder with a death wish.

When he turns to face Lyra, he halts in his step, her eyes are locked onto the painting, frozen in place. That's when Tom follows her eye-line and feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, he slowly removes the painting and doesn't flinch at the eyes at stare back at him.

They're dark, strange white circles around them— like some sort of mask. If the holes were any bigger, Harry would've plunged the pickaxe straight into his eye— or Tom would've, rather. But he didn't feel like destroying their wall as a constant reminder of the creep that watched them.

"Who the fuck are you?" The miner asks, reaching back to take Lyra's hand to offer her some form of comfort. There's a pause as the intruder breaths heavily from under his mask, the same harsh breaths Lyra had heard earlier. A shiver descends her spine.

"You're in my house." The high pitched tone of a young boy rings in their ears and although some things are clarified, like the playroom, the little bed, there are so many more questions to be answered.

"The fuck are you? Some kind of big kid? Do you have mental issues? Where are your parents?" Questions are fired at the boy, the man's gruff voice making him uncomfortable. He feels small and inferior, he looks down and backs away from the holes, leaving their view.

"I think you... upset him?" Lyra guesses, her boyfriend replacing the painting on the wall and storming out of the room, towards the front door.

"Keys?" His voice is deeper than usual and as she throws him the keys, it takes her a moment to realise who's actually present with her. Harry Warden.