𝐃𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦

[XI. walks through willows, vans creeping up]

chapter eleven !
word count: 1050

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Vance watched as the van came closer and closer. It didn't look like it was going to move away at any time, so he stepped to the side. The van continued toward him, speeding up. An eerie feeling settled over him as he got a good look at the vehicle.

"Abracadabra?" he muttered. He didn't think he'd ever seen a magician around these parts. He gave the van a dirty look before turning and walking into the forest as it passed by.

Vance walked through the forest, the dense canopy overhead casting shadows that danced with the movement of the leaves. The path was familiar, worn from years of use, but the unsettling encounter with the van made every rustle and crackle seem sinister.

As he moved deeper into the woods, the sounds of the outside world faded, replaced by the chirping of birds and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. He glanced over his shoulder a few times, half-expecting to see the van creeping along the edge of the forest, but there was nothing but the silent trees.

The trail wound through a small clearing, where the sun pierced through the branches, creating a patchwork of light on the forest floor. Vance quickened his pace, eager to reach the safety of his home. The underbrush grew thicker, and he pushed through it with determination.

Finally, the familiar shape of his house came into view, nestled among the trees. It was a modest cabin, built with his own hands, and it had always been a sanctuary from the world. The sight of it brought a wave of relief washing over him. He approached the front door, pausing to take one last look back at the path, before stepping inside and locking the door behind him.

After locking the door, Vance turned around to see his stepfather waiting for him, a stern look on his face.

"Did you have a nice walk?" his stepfather asked, his voice carrying an edge that made Vance's stomach tighten.

"Yeah," Vance replied cautiously, trying to gauge the mood. "Just needed to clear my head."

His stepfather nodded slowly, eyes narrowing as he studied Vance. "You seemed spooked. Did something happen out there?"

Vance hesitated for a moment, debating whether to mention the van. "No," he opted instead.

"My buddy passed by you while you were talking to someone." His stepfather walked up to him, a menacing edge in his voice. "Said you were with a couple of fags. Is that true?"

Vance's heart stopped. "What? No," he denied, instinctively backing up a step as he felt his stepfather's breath on his face. "They aren't even my friends. They were just trying to talk to me."

"Oh. Is that why you got punched like a little bitch, then?" His stepfather asked, brushing his thumb against the bruise on Vance's cheek.

"He just got angry. It's fine," Vance said, trying to sound convincing.

"So you lost a fight to a couple of pansies?" His stepfather sneered, his eyes narrowing.

"No!" Vance gulped, his voice rising in desperation. "It wasn't even a fight, just... I don't know."

His stepfather's expression twisted with disdain. "Pathetic," he spat, turning away. "Show some backbone, or don't come back at all."

Vance stood there, the words stinging more than the bruise on his face.

"Actually.. i changed my mind," he turned back towards Vance. "Maybe you should just leave tonight instead," his stepdad said with a grin that sent a chill down Vance's spine.

"But I don't have anywhere to stay," Vance protested, his voice trembling.

"You have your boyfriends, don't you?" his stepdad sneered.

"I'm not gay," Vance said sternly, trying to stand his ground.

"Your lies don't fool me." His stepdad grabbed Vance's wrist tightly, dragging him towards the door.

"No, stop! I don't want to leave tonight. I can go t-tomorrow—" Vance started to plead, but his stepdad's fist collided with his face, cutting him off.

"I don't want a faggot like you in my house! Get out!" He shoved Vance out the door, slamming it behind him.

Vance stumbled, catching himself before he fell to the ground. He stood there for a moment, his cheek throbbing where he had been hit, the harsh reality of his situation sinking in.

At least he didn't beat him up again.

The cold night air bit at his skin as he looked around, trying to figure out what to do next.

As Vance walked down the road, the street lights reflected off the cement, casting long, eerie shadows that danced around him. Each step echoed in the quiet night, the sound a lonely reminder of his isolation. He pulled his jacket tighter around himself, the night air chilling him to the bone.

The encounter with his stepfather replayed in his mind, each word and action amplifying his fear and anger. He had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. The road stretched out endlessly before him, lined with the cold, indifferent glow of the street lights.

Vance's thoughts drifted to the van he had seen earlier. He wondered if it was still out there, lurking somewhere in the darkness. The thought made him quicken his pace, his eyes darting nervously to the shadows around him.

He needed to find a place to rest, to gather his thoughts and figure out his next move. The road ahead seemed uncertain and daunting, but he knew he had to keep moving.

His legs carried him to the Grab n Go. It was closed now, its neon sign dimmed for the night, but Vance knew he could wait in the back forest until it opened up.

He slipped behind the building, finding a spot among the trees where he could see the store without being seen. The forest here was thinner, the underbrush less dense, offering a semblance of safety while he waited.

Vance sat down on the cold ground, leaning against a tree. The events of the night played over in his mind, but he forced himself to focus on the present. As he watched the darkened store, he felt a strange sense of calm. He was still scared, still hurt, but at least he had a plan, however small. All he had to do now was wait for morning.