don't worry, i bite | s.m

I

I
Her POV

"I cannot believe we moved to this trash hole." The brunette muttered to herself under her breath, lazily tossing her heaping boxes into her new room.

Moving was supposed to be some new, fun, refreshing thing. It gives you a chance to start over and reset your future, right?

Of course, but not when you now lived in a fifty year old house in front of extremely creepy woods.

It was a gross home. No, house. She's not going to be calling this place "home" for a while.

Her bedroom on the second level had a fairly big window peered out into the dark woods, along with a large, old oak tree.
The dusty wooden floors creaked and groaned with every step, and if an axe murder were to ever get into her house, she'd surely be dead while trying to hide.

Her sister's bedroom was across the hall, a stairway leading back downstairs in the middle of the two. She could hear frustrated sighs from the younger teen, thumps from her belongings being moved carelessly.

She hadn't been too keen on the idea of moving either. Sure, it's a thing that happens to most people in their lifetime, but they were content with their old lives.

Their dad, however, was far from it. The small town in Ottawa was a constant reminder of what happened eight months ago and he couldn't take it. The girls were coping along alright, and it still hurt, but they never thought of moving. It felt almost like betrayal.

He looked for fresh start here and already had a job placed before they moved. With her being eighteen already and her younger sister at sixteen, they had to struggle through the rest of the year at a new high school.

Luckily, it was her last year of basic schooling. Or, trimester. Either way, she was ready to move on with her life and get out of this province. High school has been nothing but stress, especially if she wanted to get into a good college.

She trotted down the stairs after a moment of contemplating which tool to use, deciding that scrubbing the dusty floors would be the best. "Hey, pumpkin. How's your room coming along?"

"Peachy," She replied blankly, not bothering to look up at her father as she searched for the correct utensils. "I know you girls aren't very happy, but can you please try?"

She looked up from the supplies closet (in which her dad filled first so they could clean), hearing the desperation in his voice and the sad gaze in his eyes. "Yeah, I can try." She mumbled, heaving a sigh as she continued to dig through. "What are you looking for?"

"Something to clean the floor in my room with," She moved away as he stepped in, pulling out an electric steamer. "Whenever you get done, hand it over to Bella." He stated, referring to her younger sister. "'Mkay."

She groaned to herself as she slowly stooped down to the floor's level once back in her room, checking out how dirty the panels actually were. Upon squinting and focusing really closer on the dark wood floors, it was look as if quite a few drops of blood were smeared. That's disgusting. Who lived here before us?

Nevertheless, she hefted herself up and grabbed the steamer that was heating. She began making long strokes from one side of her room to the other, checking to assure she didn't miss any spots.

She sat on her bed while waiting for the floor to dry, suddenly peering out the window. She didn't know what caught her eye, but she turned her head around and gazed out the thick piece of glass.

Her eyes widened as a tall boy slowly moved out of the forrest, walking down the dirt path that led out to the main street, also passing by the left side of her house. He watched a pebble skip against the walkway, kicking it as he moved along.

She adjusted herself over to get a better view, her breathing hitching as the boy's head snapped up to her window, his eyes like a dagger straight to her soul.

He suddenly looked panicked, turning on his heel and running back into the dense woods. What was that all about?

Deciding not to mention the occurrence to anyone right now, she shut her blinds and got up from her bed. Noticing her floors were mostly dried, she picked up the steamer and removed the cloth and was slightly appalled when seeing a different color than grey and brown.

So it was blood. She hurriedly threw the tissue-like material away, picking up the steamer once again and walking over to her sister's room.

"Dad said you gotta steam yours too," She stated as she shoved in it the small space, shrugging. "Doesn't this place seem really gross?"

She easily nodded in agreement. "Who lived here before us?"

The younger of the two shook her head, sighing. "I heard the last woman who lived her was murdered. Two holes on her neck, must've been a snake or some shit." She rolled her eyes at her sister's use of profanity, gulping upon realization.

"Wait, are you actually serious?" A nod came from the girl. "Oh, fuck. Wait– sorry for that. I think I know what room she was killed in," She murmured the last part, shaking her head. "Where?" The girl eagerly asked from the opposing side, mindlessly folding some clothes.

She couldn't figure a way to put it. "My room." She bluntly spoke.

She watched her sister's jaw drop, gaping at her with wide eyes. "How do you know?" She pressed further, leaning in a tad.

"Well, I don't know how else blood would end up all over my floor." She just shook her head at herself. Of course she was stuck in the room where a dead body may have once laid.

"I don't like it here," The younger one mumbled, playing with her fingers as she admitted it.

"I don't either. Dad wants us to at least try, but I miss our old town." She simply replied, knowing her sister knew why she missed it.

"I know. It just feels like there's something— wrong here. I don't know." Bella rambled, looking up at her older sister, who just shrugged.

"Well, here's to a new start in Pickering."

thoughts so far?