phantomrings

woah——    it’s just me! 

( pssst ! )       hey,  pineapple pizza—-  you gonna open the window or what ?      — i brought snacks 

   for  a  moment  he  could  resignate  with  that.  drinking  first  thing  in  the  morning  and  last  thing  at  night.  it  was  a  sad,  sad  life.  the  household  became  less  bright  when  his  mother  passed  on.  natural  causes  were  one  thing  but  the  nature  of  her  death.ᐣ  it  was  like  going  through  grief  all  over  again  only  years  later.  “  yeah,  i  guess  you  get  it.  always  sleeping. ”
          
          while  finn  was  no  drinker  he  had  before,  not  in  a  way  that  even  loosely  qualified  him  as  an  alcoholic.  his  sister  dragged  him  off  to  a  party  or  two  so  of  course  he  felt  like  he  had  to  be  there.  to  keep  an  eye  on  here.  his  job  as  a  protector  was  something  he  took  very  seriously  especially  when  it  came  to  her.  but  before  that  when  his  dad  actually  had  beers  in  the  house  he'd  stolen  more  than  a  couple.  not  to  say  he  was  completely  clean  or  anything.  weed  was  his  thing,  he  smoked  and  smoked  and  smoked  so  he  could  forget.  so  for  a  moment  maybe  his  mind  could  drift  into  a  state  of  peace.  a  bad  habit,  but  everyone  had  one  and  this  was  his.  sometimes  if  he  got  stoned  enough  he'd  pass  out  that  was  his  brains  break  from  overthinking,  overanalyzing.  the  cop  was  good  for  nothing  what  a  surprise  that  was.  right.ᐣ 
          
          his  one  singular  hope  cruising  down  the  street,  turning  around  and  heading  back  up  the  road  in  which  it'd  came  from.  a  hushed  'dammit'  fell  from  the  boy's  lips  before  he  was  flat  out  confronted  on  his  lies.
          
          instead  of  denying  (  which  maybe  he  should've  done  )  he  met  his  eyes.  “  you're  not  exactly  being  honest  either.  i  don't  owe  the  truth  to  a  stranger.  you  won't  even  tell  me  what  you're  really  doing  here. ”
          
          ⁽  @sinnerscult  ⁾

  “  yea.  he  kinda  always  has  been.  especially  after  having  one  too  many.  ”  finney  could  recall  those  days.  the  days  where  his  dad  would  spend  all  day  binge  drinking  and  by  the  time  he  and  gwen  got  home  he  was  properly  drunk.  this  alone  knocked  him  out  cold,  usually  on  the  sofa.  despite  his  heavy  slumber  he  and  his  sister  still  tiptoed  around  him  out  of  habit  as  when  he  was  awake  he  wanted  complete  silence.  which  was  sort  of  hard,  everything  made  noise.  including  his  loud  mouthed  sister.  unfortunately  he  wasn't  as  tough  as  he  felt  he  should've  been.  alas,  here  he  was.  still  as  afraid  as  he  was  when  he  was  13.  feeling  much  like  a  little  boy  again.  that  is  when  his  eyes  caught  a  car  inching  into  the  quiet  neighborhood.  finally.  but  it  drove  right  past  him,  turned  around  and  headed  right  back  to  where  it  had  came  from.  in  the  beginning  finney  had  made  several  distressed  calls.  he'd  been  in  such  a  bad  mental  state  he'd  begun  to  hallucinate.  eventually  the  authorities  stopped  taking  his  calls  seriously.  often  driving  by  to  make  sure  everything  was  fine  and  not  even  bothering  to  get  our.  they'd  really  just  left  him  here.  so  much  for  calling  for  help,  right.ᐣ  guess  he  only  could  depend  on  himself  nowadays. 
          
          ⁽  @sinnerscult  ⁾

    this  was  something  he  noticed,  lack  of  a  coat,  or  a  jacket.  or  even  a  hat,  gloves..  something.  maybe  he  wasn't  all  that  prepared  for  colorado  cold  but  it  wasn't  kind.  it  nipped  at  his  nose  the  most.  the  boy  sniffles  slightly  and  he  adjusted  the  hat  he  always  wore.  it  covered  his  ears  nicely  and  it  was  fairly  thick.  but  regardless  of  how  he  wore  the  hat  his  brown  curls  always  spilled  out  from  the  edges.  finney  was  appropriately  dressed  for  the  weather. jeans  with  sweatpants  beneath, lots of layering in general  and  snow  boots.  long  sleeves,  a  plaid  lined  jacket. unfortunately  not  a  very  thick  one  as  he  was  still  actively  shivering.
          
          snow  was  still  on  the  ground  for  christ sake  and  this  guy  didn't  have  an  inch  of  warm  clothing  on  him.ᐟ  what  was  wrong  with  him.ᐣ  even  as  he  shifted  his  weight  from  one  foot  to  the  other  the  snow  that  clung  to  the  ground  crunched.  not  to  mention  there  had  been  snow  flurries  all  day.  his  sleeve  came  up  to  rub  at  his  cherry  red  nose  as  he  sniffled  once  more.  if  he  wasn't  careful  he's  catch  a  cold  being  out  here  like  this.  normally  he  tried  not  to  spend  too  much  time  outside.  especially  during  this  timeframe  it  was  the  worst  one.  god  where  were  these  cops  at.ᐣ  useless  he  could've  been  dead  and  by  now  and  yet  the  whole  street  was  eeriely  quiet.  in  fact  it  made  his  stomach  turn.
          
          “ 'm  fine.  dad  shouldn't  be  too  much  longer.  if  he  is  i  might  have  to  go  in  there  and  shake  him  around  some  more.  ”  aka  call  the  cops  again  and  make  sure  they  were  actually  coming.  how  hard  was  it  to  do  your  damn  job.ᐣ  even  after  he  fully  disclosed  the  details  of  the  situation.  you'd  think  they'd  make  it  a  priority  or  something.
          
          ⁽  @sinnerscult  ⁾

    “  ireland,  huh.ᐣ  i  could  tell  you  weren't  from  around  here.  ”  which  in  turn  was  true  and  he  didn't  mean  anything  by  it.  other  than  it  was  weird  to  show  up  on  someone's  doorstep  in  the  middle  of  the  night.  but  maybe  things  were  different  in  ireland.  who  knows.  finney  sure  didn't  he  hadn't  even  been  out  of  state.  a  true  american  boy.  hoping  to  make  some  good  music.  hmmm.
          
          naturally  dark  brown  eyes  would  search  him  up  and  down,  the  dim  porch  light  hitting  the  corner  of  the  banjo.  so  what  his  sorry  added  up.ᐣ  that  didn't  mean  a  damn  thing.  a  younger  more  naive  finney  would've  fallen  for  it.  maybe  he  would've  even  asked  him  to  play  him  something  on the  banjo.  unfortunately  he  learned  of  stranger  danger  the  hard  way.
          
          trust  was  hard  to  earn,  hell  he  wasn't  even  sure  the  cops  could  be  trusted  to  actually  do  their  job.  they  hadn't  protected  him  when  he  needed  it  the  most.  they  were  pigs,  ones  that  took  the  credit  of  finding  the  missing  finney  blake.  the  grabber's  only  surviving  victim.  the  man  had  gotten  sloppy  towards  the  end  of  his  run  and  finney  took  his  life.  tonight  was  a  cold  one  and  finney  could  be  seen  slightly  shivering.  the  wind  had  that  icey  chill  that  made  his  nose  and  cheeks  a  rosey  red,  and  his  eyes  watery.
          
          ⁽  @sinnerscult  ⁾

   the  creaks  of  the  floorboard,  the  whoosh  the  curtains  made  when  he  tugged  them  shut. the  phone  being  picked  up  from  the  receiver  after  dialling  '  911  '  the  cops  hadn't  helped  him  when  he  was  stuck  in  that  basement  but  god,  could  they  help  him  now.  after  giving  the  address  and  the  nature  of  the  call  he  was  informed  someone  was  being  sent  his  way  and  he  felt..  only  slightly  relieved.  the  station  wasn't  far  from  here  after  all.  despite  being  advised  to  stay  inside  he  had  to  keep  him  believing  the  tale  he  spun.  surely  it  wouldn't  be  too  hard,  right.ᐣ
          
          finney  returned  to  the  stranger  and  he  kept  his  distance  the  whole  time.  hands  found  his  pockets  as  he  tug  the  toe  of  his  boot  into  the  ground.  “  he's  about  a  drunk  as  you  are.  i  woke  him  up  but  it  might  take  a  couple  minutes  for  him  to  actually  come  out  here.  ”
          
          a  lie,  a  lie  right  through  his  teeth  his  dad had  been  sober  for  all  of  4  years  now.  he'd  sworn  he'd  never  drink  again.  addiction  was  a  horrible  thing  and  doing  it  to  forget  about  their  late  mother  was  even  worse.  it  made  him  a  monster  and  he  took  all  those  built  up  feelings  out  on  him  and  his  sister.  but,  people  can  change  and  he  did.
          
          “  ive  never  seen  you  around  here.  where  did  you  come  from.ᐣ  because  it's  definitely  not  from  here.  i  would've  seen  you  by  now. ”
          
          ⁽  @sinnerscult  ⁾

   no   intentions  of   coming   off   this way   his   ass. this   guy   definitely wasn't   good   news. besides   what   did   he   really   think   he   was   going to   say   to   his   dad.ᐣ  his   dad   wasn't gullible. but   that   was   the   issue.  he wouldn't   be   able   to   come   out   with his   dad   because   he   wasn't   here. which   didn't   ease   his   mind   in   the slightest.
          
          " yeah,  a   long   day. something   like that.  just   wait .. right   there   and   ill be   back." he   instructed   as   he   held his   hands   up   slightly, slowly   taking a   couple   steps   back   towards   the back   of   the   house.
          
          that   fear   of   his   really   lingered heavy   in   the   air. it   was   a   fear beyond   this   exchange. beyond anything   the   man   would   ever   care enough   to   know. once   he   was   out of   sight   he   rushed   to   the   backdoor, scrambling   to   find  the  key  and   unlock   it. upon   hearing   that click   he   rushed   inside   and   made sure   all   the   curtains   were   closed before   heading   right   for   the   phone. even   though   at   this   point   in   time he   despised   them   and   he   probably would   forever.
          
          in  the   show   of   panic   the   boy made   an   error. worried  about   the curtains   and   not   the  door   that  was slightly  ajar.  although  he  couldn't  enter  he  would  definitely  be  able  to  see  him  if  he  got  curious  enough.
          
          ⁽  @sinnerscult  ⁾

   the  night  was  silent,  not  a  car  on  the  street  or  even  a  singular  porch  light  on.  it  was  much  like  when  he  finally  broke  out  of  the  grabber's  basement.  when  he  had  that  slight  taste  of  freedom.  only  for  it  to  be  stripped  from  him  amongst  other  things.  finney  was  no  longer  trusting,  no  longer  innocent.  he'd  been  corrupted.  ruined.  so  much  so  that  he  tensed  up  around  men  altogether  and  that  was  bleeding  through  now. a  shaking  exhale  as  he  tried  to  keep  that  tough  facade  up.
          
          drank  too  much.ᐣ  that  COULD  be  true.  but  it  felt  wrong  in  his  gut.  so  very  wrong.  it  was  possible  he  was  being  truthful.  but  that  didn't  explain  half  the  questions  he  had.  or  the  fact  he  looked  purely..  not  human.
          
          okay,  run  inside.  call  the  cops.  then  keep  this  guy  around  long  enough  for  them  to  arrive  it'll  at  least  scare  him  away.
          
          “  alright.  but  it  might  take  a  minute.  i  don't  know  if  he's  awake.  and  he's  not  a  fan  of  me  using  the  front  door.  too  much  noise.  ”
          
          ⁽  @sinnerscult  ⁾

     “  so  let  me  get  this  straight.  you  snuck  up  behind  me,  tell  me  you  can  smell  my  fear  and  now  you  expect  me  to  open  up  that  door  and  let  you  inside.ᐣ  how  /  dumb  /  do  you  think  i  am.ᐣ  i  am  not  letting  some  weird  dude  in  my  house.  ”  the  brown  haired  boy  glanced  towards  the  garage  offhandedly.  closed.  “  my  dad's  home.  you  don't  wanna  know  what  he'd  do  to  you.  ”
          
          it  was  a  lie.  his  dad  wasn't  even  remotely  close  to  the  house.  but  the  garage  door  was  sealed.  this  stranger  didn't  know  that. 
          
          “  im  never  being  kind  to  a  stranger,  im  not  letting  you  close.  turn  around  and  go  back  to  wherever  the  /  fuck  /  you  came  from. ”
          
          ⁽  @sinnerscult  ⁾