▸ Shadows Beneath the Suburb: Chapter 8

[Reader Discretion: Semi-Immortal explores mature and challenging themes, including trauma, mental health struggles, violence, and discrimination. It contains scenes that may be distressing to some readers. Please proceed with caution and prioritize your well-being.] 

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As the afternoon wore on, a cool edge began to creep into the air as Ivy and Violet strolled through the park. Ivy had balled up their snack wrappers and neatly tossed them in a bin as they headed towards the exit. She was quiet, her hands buried deep in the pockets of her blue school blazer. Violet, on the other hand, was captivated by everything around them, her eyes wide with curiosity as they headed towards the wealthier side of town. Every now and then, she'd steal a glance at Ivy, as if weighing whether or not to disturb the comfortable silence between them.

Their walk took them down peaceful, meandering streets, eventually spilling into a neighbourhood so picturesque it felt like stepping into a postcard. Imagine rows of terraced houses, each one boasting perfectly manicured hedges and vibrant flower gardens bursting with colour. The homes themselves were flawless, with sparkling brickwork and windows so clean they seemed to shimmer under the warm glow of the late afternoon sun. The atmosphere was so enchanting that it beckoned you to pause and fully immerse yourself in its breath-taking splendour. 

A hint of wonder coloured Violet's voice as she took in the neighbourhood. "No way! This is where you live?" she exclaimed.

Ivy, on the other hand, appeared indifferent. "Yep," she said, her tone flat as she continued walking. "Just remember, beautiful exteriors can be deceiving."

Violet tilted her head slightly, feeling a blend of curiosity and a hint of discomfort from the sharpness in Ivy's tone. Upon reaching Ivy's home, Violet found herself momentarily frozen, her gaze absorbing the idyllic surroundings. The house looked like something straight out of a magazine: a charming red brick building, with ivy gracefully climbing its walls and a neat little flower bed blooming beneath the window. 

Ivy looked for her key before turning to Violet, her expression conveying a sense of seriousness. Okay, so here's the thing," she whispered, "Once we're inside, you need to be super quiet. My... uncle's girlfriend is asleep upstairs, and she absolutely can't know you're here."

Violet nodded, her expression serious now. "Got it."

Ivy unlocked the door, carefully easing it open to avoid making any noise. The inside of the house was starkly different from its charming exterior. The air felt heavy, the walls devoid of personal touches or warmth. It was clean, but there was no life to it—just a hollow stillness that sent a faint shiver down Violet's spine.

Ivy quietly removed her shoes and placed them carefully on the shoe rack in the hallway. "Follow me," she murmured, guiding Violet through the slender hallway toward her room.

The bedroom felt like a whirlwind of disarray, bursting at the seams with clothes strewn across the floor, books teetering in haphazard piles on every available surface, and a mattress resting directly on the ground, encircled by an eclectic assortment of pillows and blankets. A tiny desk was crammed against the wall, its surface overwhelmed by a chaotic pile of scattered papers and pens. A weathered teddy bear leaned against the wall, its once-fluffy fur now worn and sparse, revealing patches of bare fabric. It appeared to have been cherished and embraced countless times, resulting in a well-loved, almost threadbare appearance. 

"Sorry for the mess," Ivy muttered, hastily gathering clothes and tossing them into a pile in the corner. Violet shook her head dismissively. "It's all good." She stepped into the room and perched herself on the edge of Ivy's bed, her legs swinging gently as she surveyed her surroundings. Her eyes roamed over the faded posters clinging to the walls, the haphazard piles of books scattered across the floor, and finally settled on the teddy bear. One of its button eyes was absent, and the stitching on its arm appeared to be on the verge of unravelling. 

Ivy was busy clearing out her closet, rummaging through old bags and boxes. She worked quickly, heaping the chaos into one corner of the room before retrieving a soft blanket and a fluffy pillow from a nearby pile. As she laid the blanket down on the bare closet floor, she spoke without looking back.

Ivy stated plainly, "You'll need to stay here for the night. It may not be the most comfortable, but it's the safest option. Just so you know, you can't step outside this room while my aunt and uncle are around. My uncle, in particular, is someone you definitely want to avoid."

Violet's brows furrowed. "What's he like?"

Ivy paused for a moment, her hands stilling on the pillow she was arranging. "Strict. And mean. Let's just leave it at that."

"Your aunt?" Violet asked hesitantly.

"She's not much better. Sleeps most of the day and yells when she's awake. Just... don't make any noise, okay?"

Violet nodded, her gaze remaining on Ivy, a trace of concern evident on her face. While Ivy busied herself with the closet, Violet's hand moved toward the teddy bear. She caressed the frayed fabric, each thread telling a story of countless memories. Cradling it with utmost care, she treated it like a fragile treasure, fearful of causing any more wear. 

Ivy brushed the dust from her hands and turned. Instantly, her gaze locked onto the bear cradled in Violet's arms. Her face soured, and in a flash, she strode across the room, snatching the toy from Violet's grasp. 

"Don't touch that," she snapped, her voice harsher than she intended.

Violet flinched, her eyes wide in surprise. "I-I'm sorry…"

Ivy felt the weight of her error settle heavily on her shoulders, causing them to droop. With a tense motion, she set the bear on a high shelf, her heart racing. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell." Her tone softened as she turned her back, her fingers instinctively massaging the back of her neck. "It's just... it means a lot to me, alright? Had it since I was a kid."

Violet nodded, her gaze flickering between Ivy and the bear. "It's cute," she said softly. "I didn't mean to—"

"I know," Ivy interrupted, her voice quiet. "It's fine." She sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"Hey," she added, her tone shifting to one of concern, "Would you like something else to wear? Those clothes don't look comfortable in the slightest..."

Violet's head bobbed in a slow, uncertain nod. It was clear she wasn't entirely comfortable. Ivy's fashion sense was, to say the least, pretty lacking in excitement. Her closet was filled with a seemingly infinite collection of baggy hoodies, worn-in graphic t-shirts showcasing obscure bands, and ensembles that prioritized comfort above everything else. This frequently resulted in a style that was deliberately simple and somewhat androgynous, but it suited her perfectly. This style, however, was a stark contrast to Violet. With her petite frame and delicate figure, she appeared even more fragile when placed alongside the taller, more angular Ivy. 

Seeing Violet's hesitation, Ivy began to rifle through her cluttered heaps of clothes, not bothering with any semblance of organization. She emerged with a haphazard assortment of outfits, holding them up in a somewhat careless manner. Although many of the items were clearly too large for Violet, Ivy simply shrugged, a relaxed gesture that reflected her usual approach to such situations. She silently conveyed her doubt, the unspoken words hanging in the air as she passed the clothes over. With a brief nod towards the hallway, Ivy stated, "Bathroom's next door," her tone sharp and to the point. She then gently ushered Violet out, closing the door with a soft click, leaving Violet to face the uncomfortable task of putting on her ill-fitting castoffs. 

Ivy found herself alone, the stillness of the room enveloping her like a thick fog, both familiar and unsettling. She stepped away from the door and settled onto the edge of her mattress, the springs creaking gently under her weight. Her gaze drifted to the small, worn teddy bear sitting forlornly on the shelf—a bittersweet reminder of a carefree childhood that had been abruptly snatched away. A long, slow exhale escaped her, the air escaping her lips with a soft whistle, as she massaged her temples in a futile attempt to alleviate the persistent ache that had settled in. The gentle, soothing sound of water flowing from the bathroom brought her back to reality.

With a sense of reluctance, she stood up, her movements sluggish and weighted, as if her limbs were burdened by an invisible heaviness. Not wanting to remain hunched on the bed, she shuffled into the kitchen. Her eyes, though hesitant, which was piled high with a mountain of dirty dishes—a chaotic reminder of her uncle's hasty departure. Naturally, it was her responsibility to tackle this mess. With a resigned sigh, she rolled up her sleeves, the gentle fabric gathering at her elbows, and plunged her hands into the warm, soapy water. The steady motion of washing dishes, accompanied by the gentle clatter of porcelain, created a soothing atmosphere, akin to a tranquil meditation. She knew the evening stretched ahead of her, long and unyielding. Yet, just as she began to embrace a fleeting moment of serenity in her chore, a sudden movement outside the kitchen window seized her attention, halting her hand in its tracks. 

Her uncle's car was pulling into the driveway.

A sudden, involuntary gasp escaped her mouth, echoing the frantic churn in her stomach. The damp sponge, shining with soapy residue, slipped from her fingers and fell softly onto the kitchen counter, a forgotten casualty of the urgency propelling her forward. She barely noticed the sharp chill of the cold tile against her bare feet; her mind was entirely consumed with the need to get away. She dashed down the cramped hallway, her feet gliding softly over the aged wooden floor, creating a hurried rhythm that broke the stillness of the house. The bathroom door loomed ahead. She swung the door open in one fluid motion, the hinges creaking in a reluctant symphony, and stepped into the room, her back meeting the chill of the door as she secured it with a gratifying click.

Pressing her weight against the wooden surface, she struggled to catch her breath, each inhalation a jagged reminder of the adrenaline surging within her. "I'm sorry," Ivy gasped, her voice barely escaping her lips in a strained murmur. With a shaky hand, she pushed back the dishevelled locks of hair that clung to her sweaty brow, the chaos of the moment reflected in her wild appearance. "I didn't even think to knock. My uncle's car... I just heard it pull up outside, and... well... I... completely panicked."

She looked up—and froze.

The fluorescent light in the bathroom amplified every detail, casting stark shadows that flickered across Violet's skin. Her shirt lay haphazardly on the counter, seeming to drift further away with each passing moment. In its absence, her bare chest felt vulnerable, flat and unadorned, a poignant reminder of the body she had often struggled to accept. A rush of warmth surged through her, painting her cheeks a vivid red that crept all the way to her ears. Her hands, usually so steady, shook as she instinctively tried to cover herself, a useless attempt to conceal something that felt so profoundly wrong.

"I-I..." she stammered, the words catching in her throat, a strangled sound that barely escaped her lips. Each syllable felt like a betrayal, a painful confession of something she desperately wanted to keep hidden. She took a jerky step back, and then another, until the cool, unforgiving tile pressed against her spine. The wall offered no comfort, only a cold, unfair reality.

Letting out a soft, resigned breath, she surrendered to the weight of her emotions, her legs collapsing beneath her. She instinctively curled up, drawing her knees tightly to her chest and bowing her head, as if she could vanish into the small cocoon she formed around herself. She yearned for the disguise her clothes provided, the comforting illusion that typically enabled her to navigate life with a sense of ease. However, in that moment, she felt vulnerable and laid bare, the secret she had clung to so fiercely transforming into a daunting, oppressive force. What was once merely a concealed truth now loomed over her like a tangible weight, constricting her from every direction.

Ivy blinked, then quickly grabbed a towel from the rack and draped it over Violet's shoulders. "Hey, it's okay," she said softly, crouching in front of her. "I shouldn't have barged in like that. I'm sorry." Violet looked up, tears brimming in her eyes. "You're not... you're not going to kick me out?"

Ivy frowned. "Why would I?"

"Because I…" Violet's voice cracked. "Because I'm…"

"You're not going to hurt me, are you?" Ivy asked gently.

Violet's head shot up, and she shook it vigorously. "No! Never!"

"Then I don't see a problem with you staying here," Ivy said simply. "Unless you're uncomfortable with it."

Violet sniffled, wiping her eyes with the towel. A small, shaky laugh escaped her lips. "You're a strange person, you know that?"

"Yeah," Ivy said, smiling faintly. "I know."

Their moment was interrupted by a sharp knock on the bathroom door, followed by a gruff voice. "Ivy! What the hell are you doing in there?"

Ivy's blood ran cold. Her uncle, Clive, sounded irritated—more than usual. She pressed a finger to her lips, motioning for Violet to stay quiet.

"Just a minute!" Ivy called out, her voice steady despite the fear clawing at her chest.

"I need a piss. Hurry up!" Clive barked. 

Ivy shot a quick look at Violet, who appeared utterly frozen, like a deer ensnared in the glare of oncoming headlights. The bathroom was a claustrophobic box, devoid of windows or any escape route. Panic surged through Ivy's thoughts. If Clive found Violet, there'd be no explaining it away. 

"Alright, alright," Ivy called back, her voice deliberately sluggish, as if she was irritated by the interruption. "I'll be out in a second."

She turned to Violet, whispering urgently. "Hide in the shower. Close the curtain. And don't make a sound."

Violet paused, her gaze flickering anxiously toward the door. Yet, the intensity in Ivy's eyes left no room for argument. With a swift nod, she hurriedly climbed into the bathtub, yanking the curtain shut just as another thunderous knock reverberated through the room.

"Ivy!" Clive's voice boomed, sharper this time. "Open this goddamn door, or I'll break it down!"