"Meg follow me."
She looked around, blinking away the fog in her mind, trying to get used to her surroundings.
Cornfields.
David stood to her right hunched over slightly as he gestured for her to follow him.
She finally got a moment to gather her thoughts as she looked around orientating herself. The haunting groans of decaying cows filled her ears as she followed David without another word.
She brought a toolbox this time equipped with a brand new part that shone bright in the moonlight, as well as more cords that would hopefully make her gears in her toolbox last longer.
As the pair worked on the gen silently, they had yet to encounter a heartbeat. Meg breathed out silent praises as the gen started running faster the more they connected wires and parts.
"David?"
He grunted in response.
"Who do you think the killer is?"
He shrugged and wiped off beads of sweat that formed on his forehead. Meg loved David like a brother, but she always hated starting a trial with him because outside the trials, he was fun and lively but once the trials started, a whole new side came out, and it was one that she never liked to be around.
Or maybe that was the real David and the other was him trying to hide it. He became rough, mean, and bull-headed. He was tough, really tough, but it always made Meg realize that she would want to stay as far away from him as possible were they not stuck there together.
So instead of trying to talk, they sprung the generator to life and ran to the next one.
Beginning to tweak with the gears and wires, they heard the loud metallic sting of a bear-trap being set off followed by an ear-piercing scream from their other survivor, Feng.
David groaned and Meg sighed as the dread of the killer being The Trapper settled over them.
"My ankle has barely healed from the last time we went against him," Meg muttered to David, but mostly to herself. It almost seemed as though the old wound could barely heal up before it was reopened again just a few trials later.
"How many times do we need to go against this piece of shite lately?" David spat out. The anger seeped out in his words causing him to rip a wire more violently than he intended. The generator exploded in front of them, making Meg jump back and shield her eyes from the bright sparks.
"Careful!" she hissed, "I know the traps suck, but the faster we get this done, the less of a chance we will even step in one."
David ignored her reprimand and went back to trying to make up for their lost progress. While working, Feng limped over slowly, looking between the two at work.
"David you keep working, I'll bandage up Feng," Meg said, pulling out some bandages from her pocket.
"Thanks," Feng whimpered.
"Of course," Meg replied, looking at the now purple and red bloody ankle. No matter how many times Meg saw the same injury, it never got better. She took a deep breath as she tried to steady her shaking hands to apply the bandages. The combination of the bear-trap and slipping her ankle from the trap ended up gouging out chunks of skin, leaving behind a mangled piece of flesh that profusely bled dark red blood.
The generator lit up and David came to help speed up the process with bandages of his own. Another generator lit up in the distance right as they finished healing Feng who smiled at them before setting off to find the remaining generator.
David and Meg followed her wordlessly knowing that if the three of them found another one, they could finish it in no time, and have a once in a blue moon trial where Meg didn't get caught at least once.
"Did the Trapper try to chase you?" Meg asked Feng as they found the last gen they needed.
"No. I was stuck in his trap for awhile too, but he never came. It was odd."
"Yeah, we haven't heard a heartbeat all game."
"Neither have I," Feng responded.
They finished the generator without another word.
Hearing the familiar sound of all generators running and the distant siren that lets them know they doors were now powered were like music to their ears.
Always filling Meg with an extra confidence boost, she sprinted off to the nearest door and with a tug, she pulled the lever down, watching the bright red lights light up in front of her.
"Easy trial," she laughed to Feng beside her.
The door began to beep, it was almost open!
That was when she heard the heartbeat in her ears for the first time that trial that grew louder than the door, but as the metal groaned, the door opened faster than the Trapper could get there. Before running completely out to join her friends, Meg looked behind her to see the Trapper standing away from the door, just watching.
Not trying to run at her.
Not setting traps to waste time until they leave.
He simply stood there.
Observing.
As the ground began to glow and crack, Meg knew she needed to leave, so without another backwards glance, she ran out into the woods, leaving the Trapper behind, though she could feel the burn of his eyes long after she ran out of that gate.
—
"Ma'am? Ma'am?" Meg groans slightly as she feels a large hand on her shoulder. "I need you to wake up."
She opens her eyes slowly, rubbing them as the bright light of a flashlight pierces her vision even though it's not even dark yet.
"If you could come with me," a tall skinny man in a security uniform says, his voice more of a command than a suggestion.
It takes her a second to realize where she is, almost expecting to see one of her fellow survivors hovering over her to tell her about another idea they have or that she might be called to a trial.
"Ma'am you need to get up," the man demands, his voice becoming deeper and a little more intense.
"I'm getting up," Meg mumbles, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
"Ma'am, you do realize this is a public park?" The stern man questions, still not lowering his flashlight.
"I…" Meg pauses, looking around through one eye open, observing her surroundings.
It takes a moment for her to adjust herself to where she is now.
She's not in a trial.
She's not at the campfire.
She's not with her friends.
And she's not even with Evan.
She's alone and she doesn't know where she is.
"I know it's a park, I didn't mean to fall asleep," she decides to say truthfully.
The man takes a moment, looking her up and down for any suspicious signs before lowering his flashlight and reaching into his pocket, pulling out a notebook.
"Is there anything I can help you with, miss? Anywhere I can help you find?"
"I'm not sure-"
"You're not from around here, are you?"
The accusation makes Meg's stomach drop and her mind dizzy.
"No," she answers.
She has no idea what this guy wants and for right now, all she wants to is to be left alone to figure out where to go from here, not be berated by some lowly power-hungry security guard.
"Do you mind if I ask where you're from?" the guard asks.
Meg's mind fills with excuses, trying to weigh the pros and cons of all choices, though even she doesn't know what the most inconspicuous answer could be.
She remembers she's in Washington…
Issaquah, if she can remember clearly…
So what's a town in Washington?
"I'm from Seattle," she answers fast. "I'm here visiting."
"Visiting, huh? Well welcome, although this is hardly considered a 'visit' from Seattle."
"Well, I don't get out here much," she answers, shrugging her shoulders.
The guard lets out a chuckle at this and puts away his notepad.
"I suppose that's true. There really is no reason to travel out this far from good ol' Seattle is there? So what brings you to our small town?"
This is exactly what Meg wanted to avoid by not calling the cops. As her brain wracks the proper answer, her throat seems to close up, already knowing that if she says something wrong, it could all be too suspicious.
But then an idea comes to mind.
"I'm doing a report," she says. "For a class. It's on the MacMillan Estate so I figured I could come and learn about this town where the estate is."
"Oh?" The guard pauses, "Hardly anyone has come around here for that in years. There are still classes interested in reports on the estate?"
"It's about historic companies," Meg blunders. Rubbing the back of her head she continues, "I don't know much about it, but I've wanted to know more for awhile."
She hopes her lie is convincing, or at least convincing enough to let the guard let her go and get on with her business.
Her stomach growls again.
A flash of warmth spreads across the guards face as he puts away his notebook and offers a hand out to Meg with a kind smile.
"Here, lets get you something to eat and I'll be happy to answer any questions you might have about the estate. I grew up here, I like to think I know a thing or two."
"Oh, no, I couldn't-"
"Nonsense! If it's for a school project, what type of lawman would I be to let a young girl flounder her way through town hungry and lacking the knowledge she so seeks?"
Meg lets out an uncomfortable laugh at this.
"Well thank you."
They walk to a sad, broken down looking parked car with a scratched 'security' decal decorating the side. Meg shifts uncomfortably from one foot to the other unsure if this is even the right thing to do.
'Don't go in strange people's cars.'
'Don't talk to strangers.'
'Always have an exit strategy.'
Her mother's words echo in her mind as the man opens up the passenger door for her before getting in the driver's seat.
But then again…she has been in worse situations.
Getting in and fastening her seatbelt, the guard begins talking with a much lighter tone.
"My name's Matt, by the way," he says, starting the car and slowly driving away from the decrepit park.
"Meg."
"Nice to meet you Meg. So tell me, where is it you're going to school?"
Her mind goes into overdrive trying to think of any schools in Washington.
Did she apply to any in Washington when she was applying?
She did get a scholarship to one didn't she?
If only she could remember the name…
"It's just a small community college in Seattle. There's a whole bunch, I don't need to bore you with the details."
"Oh nonsense, I appreciate meeting new people, especially when they're interested in local culture! So where do you go? Bellevue, Shoreline, Seattle Central, North Seattle?"
"Oh, uh, Bellevue," Meg stumbles out the name hoping that will please him so he can just stop asking her questions.
'Always have an exit strategy,'
"I got my associate's from there! Great school."
"Yeah, I love it, so anyways, about the estate…"
"So what's the paper on?" Matt asks, interrupting Meg, "Just so I know what I can help you with." His voice a little quieter after sensing Meg's hesitance to answer questions about herself.
"Just the history of it. What did the MacMillans do exactly?" She asks.
"They had their own mining company that grew into one of the largest mining operations to date in the Pacific Northwest."
"Ah, I see, so, is it still in operation?"
Matt quiets down and says nothing as he slows down and turns into a parking lot in front of a small brick building that reads 'Police Station' in yellowing letters.
"It isn't,' Matt speaks up, putting the car into park and shutting off the engine. "It hasn't been since the incident some people even call the worst mass murder in the PNW."
Meg's stomach drops as her heart feels like it is being tied with a rope squeezing tighter and tighter.
"What caused the accident? What happened?" She asks, her voice cracking slightly.
She asks this, yet she knows.
She doesn't need to ask.
"Here, lets get you inside, you can take some notes over donuts and coffee," Matt says, his voice jumping back to its cheerful tone.
The way his moods can jump doesn't settle well with Meg, and right now all she wants to hear is what happened at the MacMillan Estate.
Then her stomach growls.
With a sigh, she nods and flashes a small smile at Matt, who nods at her back and gets out of the car.
She is hungry and having some free food will be good for her until she can figure out something else.
Plus she will finally get that coffee she was craving earlier, she just wishes she could enjoy it without her nerves eating her up inside at what Matt has yet to tell her.
Deep down, she always knew that the killers did something to deserve being killers in the Entity's realm. Her and her friends would like to talk about how they got there and what they were.
Sometimes they'd make a joke out of it.
Other times, not.
David and Ace liked to come up with the most ridiculous stories that always had the group in tears after their dramatic retellings that they would both somehow be telling at the same time.
Though other times, they were not as funny.
The group would try to figure out why the Spirit was cut all over with glass shards protruding from her body that would sometimes fall to the ground if you stunned her with a pallet.
Or why the Wraith was silent, emotionless, and never seemed to like killing, nor did he dislike it. He always seemed quite passive.
Or if the Nurse and the Doctor were really a nurse and a doctor?
There were all these questions, and they had nothing but time to try and figure out why they were the way they were.
But of course, they never found any answers to their theories, and for all they knew, they could have been human beings just like them that were at the wrong place at the wrong time, and instead of becoming a survivor, they unfortunately were picked for the 'killer' team.
Meg never liked to think of that option much because if they were killers before their time there, then they did something to get there.
They deserved to be caught in a hellscape forever, right?
Though she never liked to wish ill on anyone, it was hard to have any sympathy for people who would murder her and her friends every single day.
The sympathy she did have quickly vanished and was replaced by something darker and more sinister deep in her bones.
And now she is here, sitting down with Matt, with coffee and a few donuts in front of her, about to hear about the MacMillan Estate tragedy, and if Evan was behind it all along…
And if he deserved to be taken into the Entity's realm.
"Cream, sugar?" Matt asks, gesturing to the contents in front of Meg. Taking a brief second to shake her head no, she grabs the flimsy paper cup filled with steaming black coffee and takes a huge gulp, too excited to wait any longer.
It wasn't too hot, but it was hot enough letting the warmth spread through her very body, through her limbs and to the tips of her fingers. The bitter taste of it welcomed her home like an old friend as she closed her eyes and savored the moment. She takes another sip, grateful that Matt hasn't interrupted this time, nor has he pointed out that tears have started to form in her eyes.
He might suspect that the coffee was too hot, and she will let him think that.
Although the police station stale coffee isn't what she had in mind, she was ecstatic nonetheless to have coffee, one of the things she missed the most.
Setting the cup down and wiping her mouth with her sleeve, she starts on a donut. Her stomach is thankful.
"You act as though you haven't had coffee in years," Matt says with a chuckle.
"You have no idea," Meg replies through a mouthful of donut.
"Well, here," Matt says, giving her a small notepad and a pen. "You may use this to take down some notes if you want. Or you can just continue to eat and drink."
Meg's cheeks turn a shade of red, as she finishes her donut and clears her throat.
"I think I'm ready for notes actually."
"Well, jumping right in, Archie MacMillan was the creator of the MacMillan Mining Company, as well as building up the MacMillan name. He was ruthless and ruled with an iron fist…get it?" Matt smiled at Meg, eagerly awaiting a reaction that she was in no mood to give him, so he continued, visibly deflated.
"Anyways, he was as cruel in his policies as he was cruel to just about everyone around him. He had a wife, Arlene, and a son, Evan."
The mere mention of Evan makes Meg's blood turn cold. She's secretly thankful that she's holding hot coffee to help ground her.
"As he grew older, his policies became even more strict, so his workers began wanting to unionize which didn't settle too well with good ol' Archie. Now this was never confirmed, but some say he began killing them then and there, taking the more outspoken ones and tossing them into the cast iron smelters in the foundry."
Meg slammed her coffee cup on the table.
"That's inhumane! How was he even allowed to do that?"
Matt chuckles and shrugs.
"It is just how it was back then. They could get away with a lot of stuff that wouldn't fly now. One missing person every now and then wasn't a priority."
"Well if it's not in operation now, he must have gotten caught right? Thrown in jail?" Meg asks, her mind buzzing. Maybe that was why the Entity picked Evan, right? He didn't do anything particularly wrong, but he had his father's genes to be a killer?
She doesn't know what would make her feel better to hear in this exact moment though.
"No," Matt sighs as he leans back in his chair, "He recruited his son to be a part of the family business and he taught him everything he knew, the good and bad. From a strictly business standpoint, he was an amazing business man, but a horrible human being."
Meg nods slowly along with his words, "So Evan MacMillan took over the company?"
"Technically, yes, but his father was still the head of it, so when Archie MacMillan had an idea, his son would abide by what he had to say, which lead to the mass murder in the mines."
"What happened there?" Meg's stomach is churning by now and she regrets drinking so much coffee so fast as it threatens to come back up.
"The workers grew more and more rebellious, which was understandable, but the MacMillans weren't having it, so Evan lead them down into the mines and blew it up. Boom. More than a hundred people killed in an instant."
It was like a punch in the gut.
She knew he was evil, she knew it, but to simply murder people because they wanted a fair working environment?
"Speechless huh? Well, here's the weirdest part," Matt continues, leaning forward as though he's telling Meg a juicy secret. "People thought it was Archie MacMillan's idea to kill his workers out of some weird mental breakdown, but when help reached the estate, Archie's body was found locked in the basement, rotting away. He died from starvation. So all things point to his son, Evan MacMillan, who disappeared and was never seen again."
Meg thinks back to the trials, and she almost wishes she could go back in time to where she didn't know how evil Evan really was.
They could have their impossible theories, but knowing his actual history is so much worse.
He deserved everything he got in the trials and in the Entity's realm.
He deserved every goddamned thing.
"Cool, huh?" Matt says, his face alight with joy. "I mean, not that people died, but it's a pretty interesting piece of history. That happened in what used to be Weeks, Washington, and Issaquah was founded around it. After the tragedy, the town was abandoned for awhile until people wanted to resettle here as Seattle continued to grow. And now here we are."
"Is the estate still there?" Meg asks, ignoring his joyful attitude that was beginning to grate on her nerves.
"It's still there, though no one goes up there anymore except for the occasional group of teenagers on a dare. It's weird though. It's been abandoned for over a hundred years, and yet it still is there. It has never decayed or collapsed. It's probably dusty as hell, but it is still in relatively livable conditions, though no one in their right mind would ever stay there."
Meg clears her throat as she stands up. She stuffs the notepad he gave her in her jacket pocket and looks around.
"Well thank you for your time, Matt. I really think I need to be going though," Meg says, her voice curt.
She found out all she needed to know and being around this man who told this story with such joy is almost too much for her. She needs to figure out where to go from here, not be around someone who takes pleasure in the death of so many people, history or not.
"Ah, yes, I suppose you're now eager to get to work on that paper right?" Matt says, standing up and gesturing Meg towards the door.
"Oh, uh, yeah. I got all the information I need, thanks."
"My pleasure. You do have a place to stay here, right? I'm not going to see you asleep on any more benches in the abandoned part of town am I?"
"Yup! Have a place to stay, no more benches for me." The word flies out of Meg's mouth like a bullet.
"Well, it was a pleasure, Meg. Good luck on your studies," he says, placing a hand on her shoulder and giving it a slight squeeze. "Just be careful, a small town like this has a way of scaring off outsiders."
Meg's skin crawls at the touch. Shivering at his words, she flashes an uneasy smile and without another word she practically bolts out of the police station feeling like the air was becoming too thick and too heavy.
She needed air, and every fiber of her being was on fire the more time she spent in that tiny office with Matt. She couldn't exactly tell why, but there was something about him that she couldn't place, but she didn't feel comfortable being in there listening to him talk about the tragedy of the MacMillan Estate.
And those last words, what did they even mean?
When she is certain she is a few blocks away from the station, she doubles over, her heart pounding and ears buzzing.
She feels like someone is gripping her heart and squeezing tighter and tighter, making the world spin too fast and the air disappear.
She can't breathe, she can't think…
Oh god what is she going to do…
"Hey!"
No, not that voice…
"I was looking for you."
She opens her eyes and blinks a few times, the sheer panic in her chest settling slightly, but not completely. Still hunched over with her hands on her knees, she looks up to see Evan standing across the street.
Without waiting to see if she would run or not, he bolts into the street, walking as fast as he can towards her, reminding her of how he would walk in the trials - full of intense purpose.
She stands up slowly, her heels already itching to run, but she won't run this time. He had his chance to hurt her earlier, all she can hope for is that he hasn't changed his mind.
Especially since he was a killer even before the Entity took him.
Halfway across the road, the screech of a car slamming on its breaks echo through the street as the driver lays on her horn at Evan, who doesn't even seem to react to the distressed driver.
"Look before you cross the street next time, asshole!" The driver yells from her window before she speeds off again.
Meg looks between Evan and the car even though his eyes never leave her until he is squarely in front of her. Despite his determination, and almost accident-causing nature, he says nothing as he merely observes her trying to regain her composure.
"What do you want?" Meg asks when it's clear that he wasn't going to say anything to start the conversation.
"I felt it unfair of you to leave earlier. I know you have no place to stay, nor do you have any means of surviving out here."
Meg lets out a small laugh.
"I'll be fine," she replies, taking in a deep breath and looking away from him. "I'll figure it out. I don't need you to be wondering where I am."
"No, you won't be fine," he says matter-of-factly. Before Meg can say anything otherwise he continues, "Not that it would be an ideal situation for either of us, you may come say at the estate should you choose. I didn't quite give you the option earlier."
"Why would you even want me there?"
"I don't. But you said it yourself, if this is real, it could be beneficial of us to figure out what is going on and where to go from here if we were together."
Meg looks away, not wanting to look at his mask as he talks to her. The juxtaposition of his deep voice coming from the once silent Trapper makes her feel uneasy, and now that she knows there really is no difference between the Trapper and Evan MacMillan, she has no idea how she could be in the same room as him, alone.
But if she could see what Evan MacMillan looked like, maybe she can learn who he is, or was.
Taking a deep breath, she mentions the one question she hates to ask again, but feels like it's the only way she can begin to even continue a conversation with him.
"You're right," she starts, crossing her arms across her chest, "But if we are going to be working together to figure it out, I need you to take off the mask."
Unlike the first time, he remains stoic.
"With the mask, you're the Trapper, not Evan MacMillan, and I need to not see that mask that makes up so many of my nightmares."
His breathing remain steady.
Calm.
His shoulders even relax slightly as he looks at her. She has no idea what he could be thinking, but a small fire lights in her chest knowing that he hasn't yelled or gotten angry yet.
For a moment, she wonders if he even heard her, but as soon as she was about to ask again, he reaches two fingers under his grotesque smiling mask and pulls it over his head.
He grips the wooden mask in his hand so tight, his knuckles turn white, as he looks away from Meg.
His face is hard and stern, almost how she pictured when Matt told her his history. There are firm lines around his mouth and eyes from years of work and stress, as well as various scars across his cheek and chin. He looks older than she imagined.
Despite the scars and lines from age, though, Meg manages to catch a glimpse of his eyes, a deep forest green.
He is not bad looking, Meg thinks, but this isn't the time nor the place to be thinking that, so as soon as the thought enters her mind, she shoves it deep down, hopefully never to resurface again.
Swallowing hard, she nods slightly at him.
"How does that feel?"
He takes a deep breath, and turns from Meg. He is still squeezing the mask so tight, she almost thinks he might break it in half.
"Are you going to follow me to the Estate or are you going to continue to be stubborn and fend for yourself?"
Meg scowls, almost tempted to argue, but he's right. She can't fend for herself, not like this, not knowing where she is or how she will even begin to get…home.
Home seems like such a foreign word…is there even a home for her to go back to?
"Fine. I'll follow you," Meg ends up agreeing though there is no power behind her words.
As they begin to walk, all she can think about is what Matt told her.
The mining operations…
The poor employees who only wanted to be treated fairly…
The ones that were burned alive before the massacre…
And then the ones that were buried beneath rubble to be forgotten…
This was all him.
She looks up at Evan as they walk. He may not be wearing the mask now, but he always was a monster, and now all she can do is find a way out quick before she falls prey to him once more.
Over the years, dying fell lower and lower on the list of worst things that could happen to her, but now that she thinks she is out in the real world, she doesn't particularly have a death wish yet.
What would all of this have been for if she were to die permanently in the hands of someone who has killed her hundreds of times already?
She loses track of time as they continue to walk in silence for what almost seems like an eternity. Her feet begin to ache and send piercing waves of pain up her legs with every step as they keep walking for what seems like an eternity, but she isn't going to complain, not in front of Evan, and not to herself.
They begin their descent into the familiar woods that she has seen hundreds of times and it takes everything in her to remain calm knowing that she is really here, in the woods, with Evan MacMillan.
They walk for a little longer, Meg taking deep breaths as she eventually has to look at the ground in order to keep going. The very feeling of being in the woods is enough to suffocate her.
Evan makes no note of her distress, nor does Meg want him to.
They just need to keep going until they reach the estate.
Soon though, Evan begins to breath quicker and deeper beside her mirroring how Meg feels.
He still walks as though nothing is wrong, but his posture slouches slightly and the hand that grasps his mask is almost pure white. She almost could of sworn she sees small blood trails leading from his hand down the wood from him squeezing so tight, but she looks away quickly.
She shouldn't care.
So she walks.
"Well," Evan begins as they walk through some more trees before entering a clearing with a magnificent house standing before them, "here we are."
Meg is speechless, not only due to the fact that she is here, going to stay in a house with him, but also how the house itself looks.
Three stories high and in almost immaculate condition, this house still stands. There is a wrap around porch out front that Meg almost has to laugh at; Evan MacMillan would grow up in a huge house with a wrap around porch, and yet he turned out to be a monster.
The off-white house stands ominous before them as he takes in a shaky breath before walking forward.
"Have you gone inside yet?" Meg asks, the question even catching her off guard.
"No."
"Oh, what have you been doing all this time?"
"After we parted ways, I walked all this way, saw it was still standing, then went to go find you."
"Why were you trying to find me? I wanted to be left alone," Meg hisses, looking away from him and the house.
"Well pardon my manners for finding you and letting you stay here rather than on the sidewalk somewhere," Evan spits back.
Meg can't argue, nor does she admit that he's right.
She walks forward a few steps, trying to gather the courage to go inside.
The house almost reminds her of many of the fake houses she saw in her time during the trials, but this was much bigger…and she hoped there wasn't a basement.
She reaches the emerald-colored front door that has a ridiculously large brass door knocker on it. Running her hands along the doorframe, she imagines the type of houses she wanted when she was little.
This would have been a dream.
Now…not so much.
"Well go on, open the door," Evan says from behind her, making her jump.
"Jesus Christ, don't come up on me like that!" Meg turns around, yelling at him.
He looks down at her without moving his head, making her shrink slightly away, feeling dumb. But she puffs our her chest and takes a deep breath.
She's not in the wrong here.
She knows it.
"Well then move so I can go in," Evan says, almost shoving her out of the way ungraciously.
He opens up the door, letting the old smell of dust and decay penetrate Meg's nose.
Matt wasn't joking when he said that there would be dust here. From what she can see, everything is covered in inches of dust and cobwebs, but it is all there.
As they walk in, she sees wooden bookshelves, lined with books, old ancient looking furniture, and more paintings than they had room for on the wall.
Meg regains her composure as Evan bellows in front of her and stomps into a room to her left.
Not sure what to do or where to go, Meg follows Evan.
"This is the kitchen," he mumbles looking around as he continues to walk introducing various rooms to Meg who timidly walks behind him as she assumes this is some sorry excuse for a tour. "This is the dining room. One bathroom. The study, don't go in there-"
"Why not?" Meg interrupts him as they pass what Evan pointed out as the study. It almost amuses her that he already is forbidding her from going somewhere as though he has something to hide that she doesn't already know.
He clears his throat and his hands twitch so his side which Meg catches on immediately as she backs away a few steps.
After a few beats of silence, Evan speaks up although his voice is gruff.
"I told you do not go in there, plain and simple. I have asked you one thing, just...listen for once."
"One thing?" Meg practically scoffs, "You have asked me one thing after what? After years of killing me and yet you want me to listen to you for one thing?"
Evan turns to Meg slowly, her confidence dropping with every passing second that he says nothing.
His green eyes meet her blue as he stares at her, the side of his mouth twitching almost in time with his hand.
"You know…I have been trying to be patient," he starts, his voice low, "I have been trying to be patient ever since I saw you across that street this morning but I will not sit here and be berated by you at every turn!"
The sheer volume of his words grow with each syllable, making Meg shrink slightly.
"I am aware of what I did during those trials and I have come to have to live with those actions, so I have been patient with you, but enough is enough!"
"Well what about those people in the mines, huh?" Meg explodes back.
"What- how did you-"
"You have been a monster way before you met me, Evan. You have always been a monster, and you being 'patient' with me won't change your horrendous actions that you have displayed your entire life."
"Oh? Do you want me to agree that you're right? Would that make you happy?" He yells, punching the doorframe beside him, causing a sickening crack to echo through the hallway, "I was not raised to have a comfortable life, nor was I ever a decent person. I tried at times, and yet…here we are."
Meg, stunned by the admission, stands still, debating whether to walk away. What is she even doing here? What does she want to gain?
"And do you want to know the twisted part of it all?" Evan continues taking a step towards her. They're so close now, she has to crane her neck to see his face as he looks down at her, his mouth turned up to the side as though he's sharing a funny joke. His voice drips with malice as he continues, "You may have grown up differently, and yet we ended up in the same situation, trapped with no escape. Actions don't matter while you're alive, not here anyway. They never did."
With that, Evan finally takes a step back, letting Meg regain her composure before she turns into a trembling mess at his words.
She had nothing to say for once, reminding of the few times her mother or her coach called her out on her reckless behavior.
No one ever tried, and as much as she didn't want to admit it, Evan had a point.
He was a monster.
All she did was go for a run, and yet they ended up in the same world they thought they'd be trapped in for eternity.
Maybe nothing does matter…
"You can stay in the room behind you," Evan gestures vaguely over her shoulder towards the upstairs as he breaks eye contact, forcing her to come back to reality.
Her eyes never leave him though, not after that display. They may be out of the trials, but now she knows he can be just as cruel. Her eyes dart over to the cracked wooden frame for just a split second before staying glued to him once more as he speaks.
"I'll try to find something for dinner," he says, turning away from her and walking back downstairs, leaving Meg alone once again, worse off than she ever could have imagined.