Uncertainty - Stanford Pines x Reader (female)

Chapter 57

The walk back to the Mystery Shack felt like a small miracle. Every step brought me closer to the faint glow cutting through the trees, guiding me like a lighthouse in the darkness. The lights became clearer, warmer, until finally, the Shack itself loomed ahead, solid and welcoming.

The sight of the shabby, yet comforting, building was a welcome relief, and I quickened my pace, jogging the last few yards to the front porch. The front door was slightly ajar, a thin strip of warm light spilling out into the night.

I slipped inside, the warmth of the Shack immediately closing around me like a cocoon. The familiar creaks and groans of the old wood greeted me as I kicked off one sneaker and bent down to undo the laces of the second.

Before I could fully remove it, a sudden weight barreled into me, slamming me onto the hardwood floor with an impact that sent a shockwave of pain through my side. My head spun from the force of it, and I felt something pressing down hard on my shoulder, holding me firmly in place.

I gasped, struggling to gather my senses. "What the—"

"Who are you?!", a rough voice demanded, the words sharp and laced with suspicion. I froze, the tone so unlike anything I was used to hearing in the Shack.

I forced myself to focus, my head still spinning from the suddenness of the assault. Slowly, I looked up, and my breath caught in my throat. A man was pinning me down, his intense gaze locked on mine. He looked familiar—almost painfully so. But his face was younger, untouched by the lines and scars that time had left on Ford's features. His brown hair was neatly combed back, and his eyes, sharp and intelligent behind a pair of wire-framed glasses, held none of the warmth I knew. Only a cold, calculating caution.

My mind reeled, struggling to process what I was seeing. "Ford...?", I whispered, barely able to believe it.

The man, who could only be a much-younger version of the Stanford Pines I knew, flinched at the mention of his name. The suspicion in his gaze intensified, and his grip on me tightened. He held a strange-looking gun, its barrel aimed right at me, just inches from my face. My heart pounded wildly in my chest, and I swallowed hard, forcing myself to stay calm even as I could feel the metallic chill of the weapon.

"Don't call me that.", he spat, his voice low and fierce. His eyes raked over me, trying to assess if I was a threat. "How did you get in here? Who sent you?"

I tried to remain as still as possible, my heart still hammering in my chest. I stared up at him, my mind racing as I tried to piece together what was happening. This was Ford—but it couldn't be. He looked like he was in his thirties, maybe even younger. Fear and confusion swirled within me. The weight of it hit me all at once, and I felt as if the ground was dropping out from under me.

"Stanford—I just... came back from a walk.", I tried to explain, my voice shaky.
His jaw clenched, and he adjusted his hold on the gun, his eyes narrowing. "How do you know my name?"

I swallowed hard, trying to think of an explanation that wouldn't get me shot. The Stanford I knew had always been cautious, even suspicious, but this... this was something else.

"I... I know your brother.", I managed to stutter, hoping the resemblance would be enough to buy me some leniency.

He paused, his grip on my shoulder loosening fractionally, but his gun remained steady. "My brother?... How do you know Stanley?", he asked, his tone hard, but the edge of suspicion was slightly dulled. It was a start.

I took a shaky breath, trying to steady myself under his penetrating gaze. "It's... it's complicated.

"Then start explaining.", he demanded, pressing the gun closer to my face, his voice like ice.