WARNING THIS STORY IS A WORK OF FICTION; I DO NOT OWN FIVE NIGHTS AT FREDDY. SCOTT CAWTHON IS THE LUCKY BASTARD OWNS ALL RIGHTS.

WARNING THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THE FOLLOWING. RAPE, CHILD ABUSE, CHILD ABDUCTION, DRUGS AND ALCOHOL, GORE, MURDER, AND *Drags out glitter cannon* LEMONS. IF YOU DO NOT WANNA SEE HUMANS ON ANIMATRONICS. I SUGGEST YOU GO TO THE MLP STORIES. THEY GET FREAKY OVER THERE.*waggles eyebrows* Without further ado. *Fires Glitter Cannon On YOU* Enjoy

If you have read the Prelude, go back to give it another glance. I was unhappy with how I had done some things, so I made some changes. Also, I changed the name from Mike to Phillip because I have plans to introduce Mike Schmidt Later in the story.

Chapter 1 A New Beginning

September 17th, 2022

Interstate 15

Phillip's POV

As I sped down the dark road, the only sound breaking the silence was the rumbling engine of my truck. With every passing mile, my anticipation grew, a new job, a place to stay, and a town where no one knew who I was. It was perfect.

Lost in my twisted fantasies, I was abruptly drawn to a flickering streetlight ahead. It revealed a weathered sign planted firmly at the side of the road: "Hurricane, Utah – 50 miles." The destination flashed like an invitation to delve deeper down this road. I smirked and flicked another cigarette out the window, watching the smoke dissipate into the night air. However, as I continued to drive down the cracked road, a figure emerged from the darkness ahead.

An older woman shuffled along the road, her frail frame barely visible in the dim light. I decided to play a sick game. I swerved dramatically toward her, pretending that I was going to run her down with ruthless abandon. Cruel laughter bubbled deep within me as I watched her stumble in fear. But just before the impact should have occurred, something unexplainable happened.

As if defying all laws of nature and humanity alike, this woman dissolved into a swirling mist right before my eyes. Shock coursed through me as understanding tried to find purchase in my mind. Was this some sick illusion? Was it merely a figment of my damaged psyche? Attempting to shake off this unsettling encounter, I refocused on driving and left whatever the fuck that was behind. Looking at my notepad perched on the passenger seat to retrieve another cigarette from its hiding place beneath it only intensified my distress. I watched as a message was scribbled on the notepad: "That was not nice...." My blood ran cold as these words penetrated my thoughts. Sweat trickled down my face despite the cool night air surrounding me. Who or what had inscribed this chilling message into my notepad? I knew I was not exactly right in the head, but multiple weird things happening back to back made me think I was losing my shit.

?'s POV

I perched myself on top of the Hurricane, Utah – 50 miles sign, my form taking shape as a creature made entirely of mist. My translucent body rolled with each passing gust of wind, blending seamlessly with the eerie atmosphere that cloaked the road. From this vantage point, I had an unobstructed view of everything that had unfolded before me.

I had been getting flickers of Phillip's thoughts since he was born, but my abilities were limited to staying near Hurricane. I had only ever been able to catch bits and pieces of his life over the years; what I had seen left me nauseous. However, today was different; I knew he would be coming this way. I had seen bits and pieces of his conversation through the email and knew our reunion would soon happen.

Testing the waters, I sent him a vision of an old lady and watched him viciously try to hit her with his truck. Perched on the sign, I observed with concern as Phillip's truck screeched back onto the road. The old lady vanished into thin air, leaving only wisps of smoke behind. My thoughts raced with sadness; it seemed he was already far gone in the head; I was just not sure how far gone he truly was. I could feel Phillip's thoughts as they lingered on confusion. His eyes darted around nervously as he tried to comprehend the bizarre disappearance before his eyes. Projecting my thoughts, I send a message to his notebook - "That was not nice," it read. With a heavy sigh, I float home, waiting for the best time to try and communicate again.

September 18th, 2022

Hurricane, Utah

Phillip's POV

As I pulled into Hurricane Utah for the first time, a wave of unfamiliarity washed over me. The welcome sign stood tall and proud as I drove past, but I barely glanced at it. I wasn't here to make friends or enjoy the scenery but to be left alone. The neat rows of houses, the well-manicured lawns, and the picturesque streets seemed like an entirely different world compared to the hellhole I had grown accustomed to. The sun shone brightly this Sunday morning, casting long shadows on the pristine sidewalks.

My truck rumbled along the quiet streets as I took in everything the town had to offer. It was a Sunday, and I couldn't help but chuckle to myself as I noticed the bustling crowd outside the local church. People dressed in their Sunday best, their faces beaming with holiness and devotion. They believed in a higher power that guided them through life's trials. But me? Let's say I had my own beliefs - or lack thereof.

Parking my truck near Tom's Diner, I stepped out and lit a cigarette with practiced ease. Leaning against my truck, its metal cool against my back, I scanned my surroundings with a piercing gaze. The diner's neon sign flickered above me as if mocking my presence. It felt strangely fitting for someone like me to be cast aside in such a place. My eyes followed the plumes of smoke as they curled upwards towards the cloudy blue sky, disappearing into nothingness just like any semblance of normalcy in my life. As people walked by in twos and threes towards their respective destinations or strolled lazily down the sidewalk, something inside me stirred - annoyance mingled with disdain.

These people were oblivious to their mundane existence; their ignorance only fueled my growing desire to be alone. The claustrophobia of society suffocated me. Not even a single person looked twice at me - perhaps because they sensed something unnerving beneath my stoic exterior or maybe because they were too absorbed in their bubble of normality.

And that suited me just perfectly. I did not need their sympathy; I did not need their pity. Exhaling a plume of smoke, I let it mingle with the air of superiority that clung to me. The cacophony of thoughts inside my head threatened to overwhelm me sometimes, but it was just me and my own company out here on this street. I had built a fortress around myself, impenetrable by the outside world. Glancing up at the church once more, its steeple reaching towards the heavens, I couldn't help but revel in my twisted satisfaction. These people had faith in something - in someone - who listened to them as they poured out their troubles and hopes in prayer. But who would listen to me? Who would understand the chaos that raged within? No one, that's who. I was always condemned to the outskirts.

Tossing my cigarette into the street, I swung open the rusty door of Tom's Diner, stepping into the silence that hung in the air. The tantalizing scent of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon welcomed me like a long-lost lover. It was a cloudy Sunday morning, and the poor souls were all tucked away in their church, leaving the diner deserted and peaceful. The only sounds that dared to break the eerie stillness were the faint murmurs of a nearby conversation and the distant clatter of cutlery against plates. Navigating the empty tables, I snatched a menu off the counter and ventured deeper into the diner.

Settling into a booth, I scanned the quaint restaurant with fascination and unease. It was a far cry from what I was used to. Usually, I could swing through a fast food joint, but I had yet to see one pulling into town. Just as I was settling into the gloomy ambiance, a waiter materialized before me, his wrinkled white shirt and black slacks betraying a lack of care.

Annoyance prickled at my skin; I hadn't even had a moment to read the menu, and yet, this overeager waiter hovered over me, poised with his notepad, ready to pounce on my order. My frustration brewed, threatening to spill over, but before I could voice my discontent, a voice, barely a whisper, brushed against the fringes of my consciousness. "Try the Omelet," it beckoned softly, its melodic tone sending shivers down my spine.

Startled, I darted my eyes around the room, desperate to locate the source of this voice. My heart pounded, threatening to break free from its cage. Thankfully, the other patrons seemed blissfully unaware of the phantom presence, engrossed in their world, oblivious to my growing unease. Was this some cruel joke? Or, maybe, a figment of my fucked up mind? The waiter abruptly interrupted my thoughts, clearing his throat with impatience, his pen tapping against the notepad like a ticking time bomb.

I scowled at him, unable to find the patience to deal with him. Grabbing my pen and notepad, I scribbled my order, "Coffee. Black." His polished smile wavered, replaced by a flicker of confusion, but he dutifully turned and returned to the counter. I had to remember this was a new place; these people had done nothing to me yet. My eyes followed him when a memory of the previous night suddenly flashed into my mind: my notebook, a scribbled message, and a vision of someone who had not seemed to exist. The hair on the back of my neck prickled. Could this be connected? The thought settled uneasily in my mind, and a bitter taste of apprehension consumed me.

What if this voice was more than a figment of my imagination? What if it had some evil intent, controlling my thoughts and actions? Glancing around the cafe, I watched as the waiter set my coffee down and turned to walk away. Grabbing at his shirt to get his attention, I scratched a quick "Thank you" on my notepad and showed him. He smiled slightly and walked off; I needed to figure out this voice or whatever was out. Glancing at the other people in the diner to see if they had experienced it, their laughter and casual chitchat told me they remained blissfully unaware.

As I take another sip of coffee, I drag my notebook back in front of me; if I try and communicate with whatever has been messing with me, I may get some answers. Or just prove that I was crazy. Jolting down a scribbled "Hello, who are you?" I lean back and sip my coffee, waiting for what I'm unsure. All I knew is since coming to this town; it felt like I was being watched. I wanted answers and to know I had not finally lost what little remained of my sanity.

I stared intently at my notebook, waiting for a response that never came. Frustration swelled within me, mingling with the unease deep in my bones. Was I losing my mind? Was this all just a cruel trick my consciousness was playing on me? Questions swirled in my head, but the answers eluded me. With a sigh, I closed the notebook and took another sip of my coffee, desperately trying to calm my racing thoughts.

The warm liquid offered a brief respite but couldn't silence my nagging doubts. As I set the cup down, my gaze again fell upon the server. He moved gracefully between the tables, attending to the customers with practiced ease. I signaled the waiter, beckoning him over with an impatient wave. He approached cautiously, his eyes betraying a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

I scribbled on my notepad, "Can you bring me a plate of bacon and eggs? And another refill on the coffee, quickly." He nodded, his smile faltering slightly before returning to the kitchen. As I waited, I decided to seize the opportunity to gather information about this town. I scribbled another note, asking the waiter, "Do you know anything about the history of this place?" When he returned with my food and coffee, I handed him the note, my eyes locked onto him, searching for any sign of recognition or understanding.

The waiter's brow furrowed and paused momentarily before replying, "Well, not much to tell, really. It's a quiet place; not much happens here. Although, I do remember a strange incident that occurred a few years back." My interest was piqued, and I eagerly motioned for him to continue. "There were some children who went missing," he explained, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "They were never found, and it sent shockwaves through the community. Some believed it was the work of a serial kidnapper, but others whispered about something more supernatural, but every so often, people still go missing."

I couldn't contain my chuckle as the words spilled out of the waiter's mouth. Missing children? Really? I found it rather amusing. The thought of innocent little souls being swallowed up by the darkness of this peaceful-looking town struck me as ridiculous. The waiter glanced at me, his expression a mixture of disbelief and disgust. Clearly, he didn't appreciate my amusement at the gravity of the situation. He left me alone at the booth without uttering a word, his footsteps echoing against the worn-out linoleum floor.

I continued to chuckle to myself, giddy at the irony of it all. Lost in thought, I was suddenly jolted back to reality by a loud slap. My attention quickly shifted to the table as the waiter slammed the receipt for my meal, startling the other patrons. His voice, edged with disgust, cut through the silence like a knife. "That'll be fifteen dollars, pal," he sneered, his eyes filled with contempt. I turned my gaze to meet his, unaffected by the hatred in his eyes. My lips curved into a mischievous smile, and I reached for my notepad.

Scrawling a few words on its weathered pages, I handed it to him, inviting him to read my response. "Well, aren't you a charming fella?" I stared at him as he read, positive he'd be pissed. "You've certainly succeeded in giving me a great first impression of this shit-hole diner. Here, take your money, my good sir. But do remember, shit happens sometimes, and we need to laugh about it" My satisfaction grew as his face contorted with confusion as I lifted the collar of my shirt down, exposing the gruesome scar on my neck to him. Clearly, he had yet to anticipate such a response or action. With a look of horror, he snatched the money from my outstretched hand and walked away, his shoulders trembling in what I can only assume is rage.

I pushed back the chair and stood up, feeling the weight of eyes piercing my back. Ignoring the curious glances and whispers reverberating in the diner, I approached the exit, my worn-out boots scuffing against the tiled floor. As I reached for the rusty handle of the door, it swung open, revealing a smoking hot babe that momentarily captured my attention. Her entrance was a breath of fresh air in the haze of the diner. Her silky ebony hair cascaded down her shoulders like a waterfall, complementing her porcelain skin that seemed to glow under the dim lighting. She possessed a captivating aura that demanded attention and confidence that oozed from every inch of her being. I couldn't help but let my gaze slowly wander, appreciating the curves that hugged her body, accentuated by her form-fitting dress.

As I attempted to exit, my hand unwittingly brushed against her, and in a bold move, I smacked her lightly on the ass, already acknowledging that I fucked up. The startled expression that painted her face was quickly replaced by a fiery anger that ignited her eyes. She spun around, her elegant fingers touching my cheek in a swift and fierce slap. The sting reverberated through my bones but only brought amusement rather than anger. I chuckled, unaffected by her rage, and mouthed a silent thank you. It was 100% worth it.

I ran as fast as I could towards my truck, cackling in my head. The slap still reverberated on my cheek, the sting a reminder of my audacious nature. Nevertheless, I couldn't help but release a laugh as I glanced at the angry woman standing in the diner's doorway. It was just my way of having a little fun. I mean, who could pass up a chance to slap that ass? People may not understand me, but that's their problem. I don't care what they think.

Jumping into my truck, I revved the engine and peeled out of the diner parking lot, leaving a trail of dust in my wake. I spontaneously drove around town, exploring the streets that would become my new home. As I cruised through the quiet streets, I noticed people pouring out of the church. Sunday service must have ended. Their faces were contoured with a sense of peace and serenity, something I could never understand.

Deep in thought, I reached for the pack of cigarettes in my pocket, only to realize I was out. A wave of irritation washed over me; I must have smoked the last one before entering the diner. Smoking had been my one crutch, and I had started when I was 16 and never seemed to quit. Welp, I needed snacks to get me through the day anyway.

I headed to the gas station I had passed when I first arrived in town, trying to remember where it had been. As I navigated the maze of roads with an intensity usually reserved for an emergency, a magnificent sight greeted my eyes - a yellow neon sign proclaiming the existence of a Valero. I let out a triumphant grunt, garnering a few curious glances from pedestrians, their gazes lingering momentarily on my truck. But I could care less. It was as if a ray of hope had descended upon me, illuminating the mundane streets with a warm, familiar glow.

Braking sharply, I pulled my truck into the gas station, the gravel beneath the tires crunching. I maneuvered my way between cars and parked haphazardly. Without wasting another second, I got out of the truck, my notepad clutched tightly in my grasp, ready for any snide remarks that might come my way.

As I entered the store, a rush of cold air embraced me, offering a temporary respite from the heat. Shelves lined with colorful packages of chips and candies caught my eye, and I couldn't resist the temptation. I grabbed a few bags of chips and a Snickers. I would need some shit to get me through the night. With my hands full, I moved towards the counter, where the depressed-looking cashier waited to tally up the purchases of restless travelers.

I pointed towards the familiar golden pack of Marlboro Lights behind him, a silent request I hoped he would understand. The cashier glanced at me wearily, his eyes betraying a hint of annoyance mixed with resignation. "Pack of Marlboro Lights, eh? One step closer to destroying those lungs of yours," he muttered sarcastically as he grabbed a pack from the display. I smirked and reached for my notepad, scribbling a quick response. "Better than working a dead-end job," I wrote, emphasizing my point by underlining the words.

He raised an eyebrow, anger flickering across his face. A glimmer of understanding flashed in his eyes as he read my response. "Well played," he muttered, a frown tugging at the corners of his lips. I grabbed my bag of snacks and cigarettes from the convenience store counter, giving the cashier one last smug smirk. He looked at me with disdain, but I couldn't care less about what he thought of me; for once, I had not started it. I swaggered outside, my boots tapping against the pavement, and hopped into my truck. The engine roared to life, drowning out the sounds of the busy city street.

As I drove, I reached into my bag and retrieved the pack of cigarettes. I expertly packed it against my palm before taking one out and placing it between my lips. The end ignited with a flick of my lighter, and tendrils of smoke curled into the air. The burning sensation in my throat was a familiar comfort, a silent companion. As I cruised down the road, memories swirled in my head. When I first arrived in this town, the motel I had passed caught my attention. With a shrug, I decided to stop there for the night. I parked my truck in front of the motel, the engine sputtering to a stop. Grabbing my bag of snacks, I stepped out into the midday sun. The motel sign flickered, the letters dimly reading Miss Molly's Motel.

As I entered the motel, the midday sun filtered through the curtains, casting soft shadows across the dimly lit lobby. The air was tinged with a musty scent of old wood and some scented candles around the lobby. The only sound that echoed through the room was the creaking of the antique ceiling fan, swaying lazily overhead. I went to the worn-out counter, my footsteps creating faint echoes against the faded tile floor.

As I approached, a middle-aged woman with tired eyes and graying hair looked up from her crossword puzzle. She greeted me with a half-hearted smile, her voice a bit raspy. "Welcome to Molly's Motel," she said, her tone lacking warmth or enthusiasm. "What brings ya to my building?" My lips curled into a faint smile as I reached into my pocket and pulled out my notepad and pen.

With a quiet determination, I began to write swiftly and deliberately. "Hello, my name is Phillip," my words formed across the paper. "I was wondering if you had any available rooms for the night?" Molly squinted at my notepad before responding, "Plenty of 'em. This town doesn't see many visitors, so we ain't never full." I took a moment to gather my thoughts before I replied. "I can see why it kinda seems like a dump, but I might be moving here, depending on how my interview goes tomorrow," I wrote, pausing briefly before adding, "I wanted to explore the area and get a sense of the community." Molly's eyes hardened as she read my words. She pushed the crossword puzzle aside and leaned against the counter. "Well, Phillip, if you're thinkin' about movin' here, I'll warn ya, the people here can be judgemental. But anyway, I can show ya one of our rooms if you'd like," she suggested.

I nodded, grateful that someone had agreed with me regarding the citizens of this town. They're a bunch of dickheads, honestly.

Molly gestured for me to follow her. As she walked around the counter, I noticed the careful way she maneuvered, the slight limp in her step. Soon enough, we were climbing a creaking staircase that led to the second floor. The corridors were dimly lit with flickering light bulbs, casting eerie shadows along the faded wallpaper. The air felt stagnant and heavy, adding to the somber atmosphere that filled Molly's Motel.

Then, I noticed something about her that I hadn't seen before.

Molly had a prosthetic leg.

My eyes lingered for a moment on the metal limb, realizing the challenges she must face every day. But Molly didn't seem to let her disability define her. She appeared to persist, her determination concrete. She stopped before a door and fished out a key from her pocket, unlocking it with practiced ease. Pushing the door open, she held it for me and gestured inside.

"This here's one of our finest rooms," she said, offering a tired smile. "If you decide to stay, it'll be seventy-five dollars a night." I stepped into the room, taking in its worn yet cozy feel. The air was laced with the scent of old furniture and fresh linen, mingling together in a strangely comforting way. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting golden hues upon the faded wallpaper, giving the room a warm ambiance.

I turned back to Molly, my heart swelling with admiration for her resilience. I hurriedly scribbled on my notepad. "Thank you for showing me the room," my words danced across the paper. "I appreciate your hospitality, Molly. And apologize for how I acted" Her eyes softened, a flicker of appreciation flashing. "You're welcome, Phillip," Molly finally replied, her voice softer than before. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask." And with that, she turned and left, disappearing down the corridor.

September 17th, 2022

?'s POV

I had been watching Phillip all day, disappointment heavy in my mind. The anticipation of reconnecting with him had initially filled me with ecstasy, my powers yearning for a profound connection with this human. There was an inexplicable tie between us, golden threads woven into the very fabric of my being. But as I observed him from the shadowed corner of the room, a pang of regret washed over me.

Phillip lay sprawled on the bed, his body contorted in restless slumber. The weight of his troubles was etched onto his face, lines of worry etched deep into his features. His fragile frame was burdened by an unrelenting weight, emanating deep-rooted anguish in waves. I could feel the heaviness of his suffering. His messy hair clung to his perspiring forehead, damp strands bearing witness to a tormented sleep.

I had expected more from him, a manifestation of dreams, fears, or desires that would fuel my purpose. Yet, Phillip's thoughts were a chaotic mess, a jumbled cacophony that made no sense to me. Earlier, when he scribbled in his notebook at the diner, I had almost responded. But now, I found myself utterly perplexed. The fragments of his mind were shattered, sharp splinters that pricked my consciousness, leaving me unsettled.

His breath came in uneven rasps, a testament to his descent into darkness. How had he fallen so far? I had anticipated his mind to be muddled, but this exceeded my darkest imagination. As I observed him, his mental anguish was far more formidable than I had ever anticipated; an intense yearning coursed through my ethereal form. Throughout the day, he masterfully embraced his role as an outcast, effortlessly concealing his true emotions. However, amidst his flawless performance, an unmistakable longing emanated from deep within him.

I longed to heal his fractured soul, to utilize my powers and mend the shattered fragments of his psyche.

But what could I possibly say to him? How could I alleviate the burden that weighed him down? I was at a loss, so I remained hidden, watching and waiting for the opportune moment. The hazy moonlight spilled into the room, casting eerie shadows upon the walls. It seemed to mirror the chaos within Phillip's troubled mind, an intricate dance of darkness and fragmented thoughts. I couldn't help but wonder how much longer he would continue to struggle in this state, aimlessly wandering through the labyrinth of his psyche.

A sudden clap of thunder outside broke the silence, drawing my attention away from my slumbering human. I glanced around the room, reflecting on how best to make contact. Thinking about it, I glanced back at Phillip, only to be startled by terrified green eyes staring back at me.

Phillip's POV

I jolted awake, my heart pounding, as a sharp clap of thunder echoed through the night. It had been a restless sleep, plagued by a lingering feeling of being watched. My eyes darted around the dimly lit room, searching for signs of a presence. And that's when I saw it—a faint mist, swirling and merging into the shape of a body, perched in a darkened corner. A chill ran down my spine as the golden eyes seemed to lock eyes with me.

Its gaze met mine, and a shiver gripped my entire being. But it wasn't just the ethereal form that startled me; it was those golden eyes brimming with an unfamiliar concern. A soft and spectral voice emanated from within the mist, just like I had heard in the diner, causing me to flinch. "Uhhh, hello, Phillip," it whispered almost hesitantly. I swallowed hard, my voice trapped within me, unable to escape these silent lips. With a nervous shake of my head, I mustered the courage to grab my notebook off the other pillow before writing frantically, "Have I finally snapped? Are you a figment of my imagination?"

The mist morphed, momentarily shifting into a semblance of laughter before it composed itself and replied with haste, "No, Phillip. What you see… It's real." Baffled and incredulous, I stared at the mist before scribbling furiously on the notepad, "Real? How? Who are you?" The mist descended from its lofty position, gliding closer, its golden gaze never leaving mine. It was like an invisible thread bound us together, connected in a way I couldn't fathom. Slowly, it formed words again, "I am a deity trapped between this world and mine. My name… it's lost to time, but you can call me Auric."

I fumbled for a cigarette on the nightstand beside my bed, my trembling hands knocking over a glass of water in the process. The faint smell of smoke filled the air as I desperately sought some semblance of comfort.

Why me? Why has this mysterious entity revealed itself to a fuck up like me? I scribble the question on my notepad, my hand shaking uncontrollably. The ink smudges as I hastily curl my fingers around the pen. The deity stood before me, its form ever-changing yet radiant and captivating. Its voice resonated within me, a whisper that calmed the chaos ravaging my mind. "We are tied together by fate, Phillip. I was bound to you." I furrowed my brow, confusion giving way to frustration. I scribbled on the notepad again. My words rushed and frantic.

"What does that even mean, Auric? Bound by fate? Why would something like you have any connection to a mess like me?" Auric floated closer, its golden light radiating with warmth and compassion. It motioned for me to relax, to let my anger and mistrust dissipate. "Listen, Phillip. I was trapped here, on this earthly plane,3 century's before you were born. I was forgotten about until a man found me twenty-four years ago and bound me to him. I am stuck here. "

My eyes widened in disbelief, the weight of Auric's words sinking in. "Why have you revealed yourself now?" I push forth, the words etching deep into the paper, conveying my frustration and confusion. "It was necessary," Auric replies, its voice soothing and serene. "For too long, I have watched silently, unable to offer solace or aid. But now, circumstances have aligned, and an opportunity to help you has arisen."

I clench my fists, my anger and resentment bubbling to the surface. How dare this thing invade my life, claim to understand me, and offer help when I've struggled alone for so long? The darkness within me surges, threatening to consume everything in its path. In a moment of blind rage, I seize my notebook and hurl it at the mist's ethereal form, the paper pages flapping aimlessly through the air.

My anger, however, is futile, for the book never reaches its intended target. Instead, it passes through Auric's ghostly shape as if my emotions hold no weight against its existence. For a fleeting instant, the golden eyes of Auric betray a tinge of sadness. It floats there, its misty form unchanged, before the golden tendrils wrapped around the notebook slowly return to my trembling hands. My breath hitches as I realize Auric holds no ill will toward me despite my anger and mistrust.

I swallowed hard, my gaze locked on the mist that held its form. How could this deity claim to know my pain? How could it possibly comprehend the turmoil that had consumed my life? "Phillip," it began, its words echoing within me. "I have glimpsed fragments of your life, the cruel hands that have scarred your existence." My heart skipped a beat as I scribbled the question on the notepad. "What do you mean, Auric? How could you possibly know?"

"Phillip, I have witnessed your pain. I have seen the darkness that has tainted your soul." My eyes met Auric's glowing eyes, beautiful pools of golden light. It continued its voice soft and tender yet carrying the weight of untold stories. "In your mother's house, I have witnessed the wrath of her cruelty, how her friends tore at your fragile spirit. They lashed out at you, carving scars on your body and soul."

The images flickered in my mind, painful snapshots of a torment-filled childhood. I clutched the notepad tighter, the pen drawing jagged lines across the paper. The ink bled, mirroring my own wounds. "But that was not all, Phillip," Auric murmured, its voice tinged with a hint of rage. "I saw her, your mother, in a fit of madness. The glint of a blade, the raw brutality of her actions. She slit your throat, extinguishing the voice that could have been. Yet, here you stand, bound by scars."

My heart pounded against my chest, the revelation crashing over me like a tidal wave. I had always sensed something more about that night in my past, buried beneath forgotten memories. Now, the truth stared at me with cold, unflinching eyes. "And, Phillip," Auric's voice softened, sorrow seeping through its ethereal form. "I also sensed the torment within you, the darkness that surfaced after years of torment. The day you snapped and took a life, a life that bullied and belittled you endlessly. Your demons found solace in that rage, granting you a fleeting moment of power."

My hands trembled, the pen slipping from my grasp. The room felt smaller, the walls closing in around me. The air grew heavy with the weight of my sins. At that moment, I felt the weight of my past, present, and uncertain future pressing down upon me. Tears welled in my eyes, a surge of emotions crashing over me like a tidal wave. I never imagined that someone, or something, had witnessed the horrors I endured. The weight of it all threatened to crush me, to devour what little strength I had left.

Sensing my inner turmoil, Auric gently floated the pen back to me. "I sense your anger, your pain, Phillip. But know this; I have been bound to this town, unable to intervene. All I could do was look after you from afar, granting you strength in your darkest moments." I blinked back tears; my voice choked with emotion as I wrote on the notepad. "And the man who saved me? Was that you, Auric?"

Auric's form shimmered with approval, its golden light intensifying. "Yes. I was able to possess the man who saved your life, guiding his actions and leading him to you in your time of need. But, it weakened me greatly; I am limited by the pact I made. I yearned to do more, to protect you fully." I traced my finger over the scar on my neck, memories of that fateful day flooding back. The rage that consumed me, the bully who pushed me too far, the blood that stained my hands. The guilt, a constant companion, suffocated me.

Auric's misty form shimmered, its glow intensifying for a moment. "Phillip, you are more than what this world has made you believe. Within the depths of your pain lies strength and resilience that few possess," it replied, resonating deep in my soul. "I have watched you from afar, felt your anguish, anger, and longing for something better."

Tears welled up in my eyes, unshed and heavy with the weight of my past. The scar on my neck throbbed, a constant reminder of all that I had lost. "But I'm broken," I wrote, my words barely legible through the blur of tears. "I don't know how to be anything but angry."

Auric's misty form floated closer, its golden tendrils reaching out to gently wipe away the tears from my cheeks. "You are not defined by your scars, hun. They are a part of you, but they do not dictate your future," it murmured its voice a soothing balm that wrapped around my wounded soul. "I am here to help you, to show you that there is beauty in the world, despite its darkness."

I slowly peeled myself away from the comfort of the bed, my muscles protesting each movement as if the weight of the conversation had settled on my shoulders tonight. Stretching my arms above my head, I let out a groan of relief, feeling the tension slowly dissipate. As my gaze shifted toward the bedside table, I couldn't help but notice the half-smoked cigarette that had gone out during my conversation with Auric.

"Guess I could use another one," I thought, reaching for the pack of cigarettes and lighter; I grabbed one before quickly lighting it.

As I took a long drag, feeling the tendrils of smoke fill my lungs, I glanced towards Auric, the mist draped in a human-like form, still lingering near the foot of the bed. Its golden eyes glimmered with a mixture of understanding and worried as if trying to piece together the fragments of conversation tonight as well.

It followed my every move as though captivated by this mundane human ritual. The corners of its formless mouth seemed to curl upwards ever so slightly as if the mist were smiling in amusement. I exhaled a puff of smoke, realizing that I needed to take care of the necessities of life, even amidst this surreal encounter. I scribbled a hasty note, "Gonna take a piss. Don't disappear." before throwing the notebook on the bed.

As I stumbled towards the bathroom, my mind still cluttered from the conversation and revelations tonight, the lit cigarette hanging limply from my mouth; I couldn't help but feel an odd presence tugging at my senses. The motel room was shrouded in darkness, with only the dim glow of the lightning outside casting long, eerie shadows on the carpet. Glancing at the glowing digital clock on the nightstand, I squinted to make out the numbers—1:37 am. I must have slept 10 hours today, but who could blame me? It had been a long day of dealing with people, plus the drive from Salt Lake.

With a sigh, I zipped down my jeans and leaned against the bathroom sink, the cigarette still dangling between my lips. I sighed as I felt the pressure start to relieve itself, glancing over my left shoulder to find Auric, the enigmatic mist-formed deity I had briefly come to know, peeking through the narrow crack in the door. The mist that composed their form shimmered with amusement, golden hues of their power swirling within their translucent being.

"What are you doing, Auric!?" I think, quirking an eyebrow as I try to regain my composure.

Auric merely laughed, "Pay attention, dear," Auric teased, their golden-lit gaze sparkling with mischief. "You might want to aim a bit more precisely." Blinking in confusion, I glanced at the floor, horror dawning as I realized what Auric meant. Distracted, I somehow managed to miss the target altogether, pissing on the bathroom floor like an errant garden hose. Cursing under my breath, I quickly adjusted my aim, my face flushed with embarrassment.

Auric's laughter swelled, their laughter echoing with ethereal tones that seemed to reverberate through the bathroom. "Oh, Phillip!" they giggled, their misty form swirling with amusement. "I do enjoy your human tendencies. It never fails to provide me with entertainment."

I narrowed my eyes at the playful deity, zipping my pants back up. "You could have warned me," I grumbled.

I walked through Auric as I left the bathroom, feeling a slight warmth pass through my body. How strange it was to pass through something that appeared so solid yet was nothing more than a mist in human form. As I made my way back into the room, a flash of lighting from outside danced through the translucent curtains, briefly illuminating the space.

Feeling a sense of calm after the earlier conversation, I grabbed a can of coke from the mini-fridge and settled back onto the bed, letting out a deep sigh. Auric lounged playfully nearby, their golden mist wrapping around the bed edges like a shimmering cocoon. I leaned against the edge of the motel bed, my gaze locked on the desolate room before me. The night air was heavy with a foreboding silence as if the world had been holding its breath, waiting.

Auric, the enigmatic deity that had inexplicably crossed my path, floated before me.

I reached for my worn-out notebook; the pages frayed from the countless times I had scribbled in frustration and fear tonight. As I prepared to write down the question that had consumed my thoughts, Auric interrupted my musings with a gentle touch of their hand. "The mist is just one of my forms," they whispered, their voice ethereal yet filled with hidden depths. You see, my true nature transcends the boundaries of gender, for I am an entity beyond the earthly concept of duality. " I could be considered a female by Earth standards.

Auric's playful demeanor melted into a more serious expression, their eyes reflecting a profound sadness. She had come to Earth trapped in this town, burdened by their loneliness. It was a harsh reality that echoed my sentiments, for I, too, felt trapped within my silent world. The only difference was I couldn't speak.

Curiosity burned within me as I wondered if Auric could hear my thoughts and if they had been privy to the uncertainty and fear that spiraled within my mind. Almost as if reading my thoughts, she nodded gently, eyes filled with compassion. "Yes, Phillip, when your thoughts are directed at me, I can hear them."

A wry smile tugged at the corners of my lips, my bitterness momentarily forgotten. "Well, that would have saved me so many cramps in my hand," I quipped, laughing softly. The weight of the notebook, the countless hours spent trying to communicate, suddenly seemed insignificant in the presence of Auric.

I tossed the notepad onto the nightstand, exhausted after the long night. Auric's voice echoed in my mind, its gentle tone tinged with a touch of mischief. She knew what troubled me, even before I could voice it. I would have to get used to that. It was an unspoken connection, our bond forged by the tangled threads of fate and longing. And although I could not speak, hopefully, she would always be there to understand me. I gazed out the motel room window, raindrops dancing against the glass in a peaceful rhythm. The room was dimly lit, its atmosphere imbued with a sense of desolation that mirrored the bitterness within me. The world was not kind to people like us, the voiceless and the misunderstood.

"Was it you?" I mentally questioned, my thoughts hushed yet filled with desperate hope. "Were you the one who arranged for me to get the job?" The answer came swiftly, melancholy and filled with regret. "No, Phillip. The job was not my doing. I sighed, a heavy exhale carrying my weary soul's weight. The job was a chance, a glimmer of hope that I could start fresh. But if even Auric cautioned me against it, I should tread carefully.

My exhaustion seeped through my bones, relentless fatigue that weighed me down. The day had been long, the town unkind, and now sleep tugged at the corners of my consciousness. I let out a big yawn, stretching my arms high above my head. Auric's golden essence danced around me, swirling and shimmering in playful abandon. "Go to bed, Phillip," she whispered, her voice a soft lullaby. "I will wake you before your meeting tomorrow." I nodded, acknowledging her silent guidance.

It was the least I could do, surrendering myself to the passive embrace of sleep. Stripping down naked, I crawled under the thick motel blanket, the thick cover a barrier against the cold air that seeped into the room. And then, Auric let out a mischievous wolf whistle as if to penetrate the heavy silence. My cheeks burned hot with embarrassment, a blush that painted my skin crimson. Without looking back, I flipped her off before borrowing under the soft blanket.

My eyes closed, fluttering like moth wings, as sleep's embrace claimed me. In the depths of darkness, my mind tethered to Auric's ethereal presence, I surrendered myself to dreams that promised new beginnings and uncharted possibilities. Rain whispered its soft melody against the window like a thousand fleeting footsteps. Outside, the world wept, but I found solace within the depths of my dreamscape.

Auric's POV

The rain fell gently outside Phillip's window, casting a peaceful rhythm against the glass. The dim light of the room danced upon the walls, accentuating the weariness etched on my face. I hovered silently, my form a haze of misty gold, watching over him as he slept. My heart ached with guilt, for I had deceived him about the job.

Bound by ancient laws that governed my existence, I found myself woven into a web of obligations that prevented me from revealing the true nature of his predicament. My duty was not to Phillip; as much as I wanted to tell him the truth, I was shackled by silence. How ironic.

In the shadows, I extended a golden tendril of mist and let it caress his cheek, a gentle touch that spoke volumes of my affection. Phillip stirred slightly, a flicker of a dream crossing his frown-lined face. It was moments like this that I would grow to cherish when his vulnerability seeped through the cracks of his bitter exterior. For years, I had tried to shield him from the cruelties of life, only to witness the scars that ran deeper than the surface. His voice was silenced, stolen from him at such a young age, relegating him to the solitude of a notebook.

In those pages, he poured out his frustrations, his bitterness, and his longing for a voice that hadn't been stolen from him. I had watched him from afar, an ethereal presence that echoed within his mind. Through the bond we shared, I listened to his unspoken thoughts and whispered to him, the slow pace of his understanding mirroring the gradual erosion of his skepticism.

It became clear to me that something was profoundly broken within him, shards of shattered trust scattered amidst the wreckage of his soul.