2

The rest of the paranoid venture went without anymore confrontations. Regardless, he was still very cautious, keeping almost literally on his toes as he treaded through the dark, Victorian twin of his town.

Even as he made it further from what would have been the town center of South Park, there was no change in the redecoration or disgusting nature. Every building stood tall and abandoned. Vines and ivy grasping unto the walls for dear life, the windows were either covered by blankets or pallets, or were completely smashed in with stains of something that may have once dripped down unto the walls around it. Unattended coaches still sat where cars should have been, and even began to appear in the middle of the road, the horses gone along with the passengers, placed so mysteriously that Pip almost wondered if they had spontaneously evaporated. He did noticed a few signs whilst travelling, but each sign was either too faded to read or smeared in filth or blood – sometimes both.

Eventually, he made it to the spot where his apartment building should be. Just as he had hoped, it stood unbroken or crumbled, but unfortunately bore the same amount of filth as everywhere else. It had once been a three-story building, wide and tall, with a basic and simple design and small, glass door. But, now, it was elaborately designed with a grand, wooden door with gold and surprisingly shiny trim. All the windows were boarded up with wooden pallets and 2x4s, vines and overgrowth crawled along the walls from the grassy ground to the roof. Two lanterns guarded the front entrance, lighting up the ever-so dark nighttime around them.

Pip hurried to the door, feeling a sense of salvation wash over him as he took the door handle into his thin, pale hands. He ignored the disgust, and was just glad to have found apartment intact. He pulled on the door to open it, and then frowned in horror as he discovered that the door was, in fact, locked.

He cursed to himself and reached into his jeans pockets in a panic. Once he found his keys, he shoved them into the keyhole, a deep sense of dread escalating inside him. Alas, the keys did not go into the keyhole. Frustrated, he threw them onto the pavement and stomped his booted foot. With a growl, he picked them back up and shoved them back into his pocket with defeat.

He thought very carefully of what to do next. A loud entrance was something that could get him killed by whatever possible guest lurked within the ruins of this town, as it was very clear to him that whatever did lurk within the shadows was most likely not friendly – so a quiet one was in need.

He wandered around the building, peering carefully from behind to corners to assure himself free of any danger. When he was thankfully assured that nothing was waiting for him, he tiptoed, almost tempted to cling to the bacteria-ridden walls of the building. Occasionally, he would trick himself into believing he did hear something far off in the distance, and would accidently recoil to the wall. But then, he would grimace with great horror of what diseases the sleeve of his red shirt may have picked up. At one point during the painfully long venture along the extraordinary width of the building, he swore to himself that he heard a low growl coming from behind him. He whipped around with lightning speed, sweat on his forehead, only to discover that he was still alone, but also discovering as he turned back around, a new stain upon the elbow of his shirt – a long streak of aged, dry blood that made him wish to gag on his vomit.

The back of the building was quite possibly even more disgusting than the rest of the building. A dumpster sat overflowing with garbage and junk. Surprisingly, it was filled with quite normal things – pizza boxes, garbage bags, decaying food, and so on. There was even a pair of light pink woman's panties, absolutely spotless and new looking with a white lace trim and a small, white bow just underneath it. Upon seeing them, Pip blushed. They reminded him of a pair he shamefully knew Estella had owned. Other than the dumpster, there was also a horrible overgrowth of weeds and vines. The weeds upon the ground reached to the calves of his blue jeans, making him hesitant of anything that may crawl at his feet. The back had a smaller, much more plain door, made of the same, old wood and shiny, new trim of gold. Pip wrapped his hands cautiously around the handle and twisted it. When it opened, he sighed in great relief, almost smiling as he shook his head to clear his thoughts. Sober and focused, he tucked his hair behind his ear and peaked inside the building.

The inside of the building looked equally disgusting to the outside, if not worse. Candles in brass holders hung upon the walls, illuminating the pigsty of an apartment building just enough to see. Many different doors went down the wide, dully lit corridor. Each door was made of an unpainted wood, similar to the front and back door, with a likewise, faded, gold trim. Even more garbage rested around the room, papers full of words were scattered around, and even a small round table was thrown upside down. The staircase was closer to the front, with ancient looking clothes hanging from the rail and piles of rubbish resting on the steps.

Shuffling in and closing the door behind him as gently and quietly as he could, Pip scrutinized each and every corner very carefully, assuring himself that there were no others around. While there were neither people nor pets, there was what appeared like a black widow to be dwelling in the corner of the room. He took one of the candles, carrying it by the holder and shining it around to double check his safety. His steps to the staircase were slow as he struggled to keep his boots from pounding against the floor with volume, but just as he was about to ascend up, he noticed a key rack by the front door. He raced to the keys and investigated them. There was a single key, which Pip took without a second thought, shoving it into his pocket.

The third floor, his floor, was old and creaky, with a floor that moaned with every step. There were no lit candles to light up the room, and the darkness seemed to devour even the light from the candle Pip took with him. With a timid gulp and a hard frown, he raised his head and sneaked through the hallway. At what should be his room, the middle room, he took his key and tried to unlock his door. When the key did not fit, he took the key he had taken and attempted to drive it into the keyhole. Alas, it did not fit either. He mumbled a curse under his shaky breath and shoved the key back into his pocket. He jiggled the door handle, and cursed again when it still refused to open. He shut his eyes tight and banged his forehead upon the door. With a frustrated growl, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He quickly dialed in the first number he could think of – Tweek's phone number. But, it went straight to voicemail. The phone was shoved back into his pocket as Pip pulled himself to together and turned away from the door to go back downstairs. He had to find Estella, firstly. Once he found her, then he could worry about where the hell he was.

He could just barely remember how or when she had gone missing to begin with. All he could recall was it happening six years prior and she hadn't been seen or heard of since. He knew everyone back home was very distraught about the events, but he thoroughly believed that he was the saddest. None of his friends or family had loved her quite like he had, or like he still did. The beautiful Estella was like a most radiant goddess, challenging the very Aphrodite in loveliness as she came down from the heavens to patronize and torment him with cruel words, verbal abuse, and rejection. She was very aware of this torment, she was! Brutal as her nature was, Pip always believed it was never her doing. She was raised that way, he'd always say. She never meant any harm.

With his love heavy in his thoughts, he reached the bottom of the staircase on the first floor, only to gaze up and find a woman standing in the doorway of the front door. The front door was wide open, her gazing out onto the road. Her wavy hair of gold rustled in a breeze unfelt by Pip, her dress of beige and floral designs caught between her delicate hands to keep it from blowing as well.

"Estella," said Pip as he hurried to cross the distance between them. But, just before he could grab her by the arm and swing her around, she was out of the way and slamming the door in his face. He frowned and growled as his aching head throbbed with a new pain. After a quick moment, he recovered, and threw open the door to chase after Estella. Pip ran after her, just barely able to keep up with her. His fingers would occasionally touch her dress or the tips of her hair, but he could never grab her, nor would she respond to his constant callings of her name.

"Estella, Estella!" he would cry, no longer worried of any passerby noticing him.

But then, he tripped. With a new throbbing sensation in his ankle, his upper teeth sunken into his bottom lip, breaking the skin and causing him to bleed, and his form crashed upon the cold pavement, he peered up just in time to spy Estella, running into a building. The candle he had refused to let go of was on its side on the pavement, its flame extinguished. Though, that was the least of his worries. Pip hurried up on his good leg, wiping off the blood that dripped down unto his chin, and began a furious limp to the building she had retreated into.

The inside of this building was much different than the ancient, gloomy, Victorian setting of the outside, and, instead, had completely blank features. It was a bar, completely bland and colourless, aside from the small piles of rubbish and puddles of bloody urine. It was pleasantly furnished, though aged the furniture appeared, and everything was coloured white – the floors, the walls, the ceiling, the barstools, the bars, the doors, the booths, everything aside from the bottles and glasses, which were clear. It was well lit, too, assuring Pip that he had, perhaps, ran into somewhere completely different than the outside.

Pip stepped inside with caution, taking in his surroundings and wondering if Estella was still here. And then, he did, indeed, see a woman. However, she was very different from his beloved Estella. She sat in one of the colourless booths, her nose buried deep in a thick textbook. Her hair was pin-straight and a shade of black that could only be understood as dull in the lighting of which it was presented. Upon her head, she wore a purple beret, which served dutifully to keep her fringe hiding the sides of her face. The sleeves of her thin, lilac cardigan were shoved up sloppily to her elbows and her black sneakers tugged mechanically at the ends of her tacky, yellow skinny jeans. At her feet, underneath the booth table, sat a purple bag, which was fallen onto its side by the weight of her books.

Pip knew this woman. In fact, she was his neighbor in his apartment building. Knowing for a fact that she was a rather polite young lady, he took a step closer to her. When she still refused to acknowledge him, he said, "Wendy?"

Bidding him only a quick, careless glance before returning to her book, she answered, "Oh, you're here, too."

"Do you know where 'here' is?" asked he, "More importantly, have you seen a young lady come in here?"

"No," said she, refusing to look back at him, "No."

Pip slid into the seat across from her in the booth, a confused and horrible defeated scowl upon his face. In as professional a tone he could muster, he muttered, "Are you here on your own?"

"No," said she. Her eyes rested, unmoving against the page of her book.

"Who are you with?"

"Damien Thorn," said she, "He's using the phone in the back."

Pip frowned at the name. In a stern yet quiet voice, he inquired, "Does he have any idea what's going on?"

Wendy's lips twitched just slightly at the question, but still, she sat unmoving in every other detail. Slowly, she answered, "I didn't ask."

He nodded. His gaze fluttered all around the room, quickly taking in all the blank details. "It really looks different than the outside, doesn't it?" said he.

Wendy replied with silence. Her lips twitched again and her eyes began to quickly scan the words on the page.

He stood from the booth and wiped off the rear of his jeans clean from whatever germs and bacteria may have resided on the seat from which he sat. "You said Damien Thorn was in the back, correct?" he inquired in a most averse tone.

"Yes," whispered Wendy, her voice barely audible to even Pip.

"Wendy," he breathed with concern, glancing back at her as her right hand began to reach for a strand of her hair, "Don't worry. I'll figure everything out, and we'll go home. You wait for me here, okay? Don't leave."

She breathed in sharply, as if she were about to speak, but then breathed out slowly and stayed silent. After a moment, she gave a weak smile, and said okay.

Pip smiled with remourseful confidence as he looked away and began to make a steady amble to the only other door in the bar. His fingers wrapped around the white doorknob and, before he opened it, looked back at Wendy. She was flipping through the pages of her book, back and forth, and hitting the heels of her shoes together. For her, too, he decided, he'd figure everything out.