mors certa, incerta vita.

CHAPTER 1.

There had been a strange feeling once Ailana "call me Ana!" Walker entered Haddonfield, Illinois. It was indescribable, really. A curtain of apprehension coiled tight in her belly with every step. There should've been no more fear. Not anymore. The home splayed out before her was ordinary, if unkempt. Bushes were untrimmed. Grass had been spoiled with weeds, a buzz of various pests droning over the tangled lawn. Dirt dusted faded tiles. Shutters lay splayed open, sun-bleached, with rusted hinges. No direct animosity reflected from the neglected fixture. Nothing odd screamed at her as she approached the desolate building either.

                                   So, why did her mother feel the need to keep it a secret?

Haddonfield was a rather cozy town. It didn't even begin to compare with the hectic haze of Los Angeles. In fact, Ana felt this childhood home and their apartment couldn't be more different. Before, her mother and her occupied a little flat above Maine Street. The space had been a quarter of this modest home's size and it definitely didn't have a yard to tend to. City life fluttered around them at all hours. Buses, trucks, even taxis zoomed carelessly down the street anytime. People of all types bustled down the cramped sidewalks; some with purpose, others with idle, wonder struck ogling.

                                                  'Tourists', they'd scoff together.

It'd been an affectionate jab. The silent remark was one that they'd exchange with a flurry of hands, almost like a bittersweet secret, right in front of others' noses.

                                                                      But Haddonfield was different.

Streets stirred little company. She couldn't feel the familiar rattle of an underground metro underfoot, let alone glance the speeding headlights of an aggravated taxi. More trees spruced the walkways. Homely gardens, some already brimming with ghostly cheer, were twinkling with Halloween delight. Carved pumpkins lined driveways, bearing both jolly grins and vicious snarls. Ghosts hung from narrow branches with all the cliche cartoon-ness she'd expect of a neighborhood like Lampkin Lane. Everything about the block was uncannily plain. Homely, true, but normal. From the trimmed lawn of her new neighbors to the welcoming plot of tulips announcing her street, she couldn't help but wonder why her mother struck such a hysterical note over the place.

Regardless, the house was hers now. With no immediate plans to pursue further schooling, she'd gladly embrace the moderate style. Utilities could be tackled far easier than the billing of a studio apartment in the heart of L.A. Besides, she'd like to have.....less around.

After all, it wasn't easy to follow every pair of lips at once.

As long as she could remember, she'd been deaf. A rare case of bacteria infecting her body and debilitating her senses was practically unheard of. Her mother claimed it was her own doing, a tragic accident that she'd let unfold due to her carelessness. She supposed she could have blamed her absent father's genetics more than she could her mother's self-pity party. Maybe he'd gifted her a weakened immune system from the very start. Maybe he'd plucked the protists straight from some hellish sludge JUST to slip it into her ears while she slept soundly or something.

Though, she found that as unlikely as him returning to claim his inheritance.

Pale fingertips gripped the house key. It was a perfectly normal house in a perfectly normal neighborhood. Why did she feel so anxious? Swallowing thickly, she pushed her concerns aside. It took some minor finagling, but after a minute, she was able to coerce the front door open, revealing.....

                                           An ordinary, abandoned, dusty living room.

      Despite having been on the market for years, not a soul had likely entered since her mother had fled the place. No furniture occupied the barren space. No discarded boxes cluttered a corner. No trash, not even graffiti, defiled the muggy space.

                                                           It was just a dull house.

                                                                    One of many.

                    A dull house, she reminded herself, with plenty of work to be done.

       Rolling up her sleeves, Ana quickly set to clear a spot for her to lay her head. Night was soon to fall. Her few necessities could wait till tomorrow, once the rest of her belongings arrived too. Travel had worn her down more than the funeral had. Teary family took a toll on her, true, but the 13 hour drive was exhausting. Dark, mahogany hair was a tangled, tied mess that crowned the top of her cupid-like features. Emerald eyes, alight with curiosity, stared down the grimy floors with reluctant acceptance. She'd dressed warmly, anticipating the absolute chill that radiated throughout the abandoned home. The cuffs of a thin, spring-green flannel now sat tucked above her forearms. Denim clad long legs while a heavy set of boots covered her feet. Had she the ears for it, she was sure they'd echo horribly in the open space. Regardless, it wasn't as if she was entertaining company. Never mind the uncombed knot. She'd fuss with tomorrow OR the tired circles under her eyes. Some rest would do wonders; it may even abate some of the gnawing trepidation that came with such a new place.

_______________________________________________________________________________

A/N: This is more so a prologue than Chapter 1. Michael will be hinting his way in soon. ;)