▸ Shadows Beneath the Suburb PT2: Chapter 9

[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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The walls seemed to vibrate with Clive's fury, his voice a guttural roar that assaulted the flimsy door. "Ivy!" he bellowed, each syllable edged with a threat. "Open this goddamn door, or I'll break it down!" The force of his anger felt palpable, leaking through the wood and seeping into the very marrow of her bones. Nervousness was a luxury she couldn't afford. With a deep exhale, she unlocked the door, the metallic click sounding impossibly loud in the stifling silence. She didn't swing it wide, instead pulling it open just enough to create a narrow barrier, her body a shield against his inevitable wrath. 

Clive loomed before her, a hulking silhouette against the dim hallway light. His broad shoulders seemed to strain against the confines of the frame, his face a storm cloud of simmering rage. His piercing dark eyes locked onto hers, an unspoken demand for explanations swirling in their depths. "What the hell were you doing in there for so long?" he growled, his voice a low rumble that promised violence. 

Ivy swallowed hard, forcing a casual demeanour she was far from feeling. She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, adopting an air of indifference that felt completely insincere. "I was just cleaning up, alright? The bathroom was a mess." She injected a note of feigned irritation into her voice, hoping it would sound convincing. 

Clive's eyes, sharp and predatory, didn't even seem to register her presence, instead darting past her into the room like a hawk scoping out its prey. A dangerous crease formed between his brows, a tell-tale sign of his growing suspicion. The scoff that followed was low and laced with disdain. "Cleaning up, are we?" he drawled, the words dripping with disbelief. "You think I'm stupid? Since when have you ever given a damn about anything being tidy, huh?" The quiet menace in his voice hung in the air, a clear threat disguised as a question. He was watching her, not with curiosity, but with the unnerving intensity of someone who already knew she was lying. 

Ivy's shoulders barely twitched, a subtle shrug that could have been mistaken for a shiver. "Honestly," she snapped, her tone sharper than she meant it to be, "I was tired of listening to your constant nagging." Every fibre of her being was on high alert, silently hoping her voice wouldn't betray the wild rhythm her heart was pounding against her chest. 

Clive let out a derisive snort, a quick and cutting exhalation that spoke volumes. He was clearly unconvinced, and she could sense that unmistakable scepticism radiating from him. "Move. I need to use the toilet," he demanded, his voice laced with impatient venom. 

Ivy experienced a brief surge of doubt, the urge to give in almost overwhelming her. However, the fear of him discovering her new secret felt far more daunting than the strain of their current standoff. "Could you wait just five more minutes?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. "I'm not done yet." It was a flimsy delay, but it was all she had.

The air crackled with a sudden, dangerous energy as his composure shattered. It wasn't just anger; it felt like a furnace had ignited within him, radiating a palpable heat that made the space between them shrink ominously. His voice, initially a low growl, sharpened into a menacing snarl. "I've been busting my ass all damn day," he spat, each word laced with venom, "and you have the audacity to tell me to hold on?" He closed the distance with a predatory step, his eyes locking onto hers with a chilling intensity, like a predator sizing up its prey. "Now," he hissed, his voice a low, lethal whisper, "get the fuck out of my way..."

She involuntarily moved aside, her limbs leaden and unresponsive. There was no fighting him; she knew that. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat accompanying the heavy thud of his boots as he pushed past her, his presence filling the small space with an oppressive weight. She held her breath, her eyes glued to the shower curtain, her mind racing, calculating, desperate for a way out.

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Clive slammed the bathroom door shut, roughly shoving Ivy out into the hallway. The abrupt click of the lock echoed in the air, sending a shiver down Violet's spine as she huddled in the bathtub, concealed by the shower curtain. Panic surged within her, her breaths quick and shallow, while her heart raced wildly against her ribcage.

"Cleaned?" he growled, the word a bitter taste in his mouth. "Does she take me for a fool? A blind, blithering idiot?" He dug his nails into the back of his neck, the pressure doing little to quell the boiling anger.

As Clive swore venomously, the air in the cramped space was oppressive, engulfing her like a thick mist. The incessant thud of his boots on the tiled floor resonated ominously, striking her with a force that reverberated through the porcelain tub and deep into her very core. She hugged her knees tightly, trying to curl in on herself and disappear from view. Violet felt her stomach turn with uneasiness as she heard his garments rustle and his belt buckle click sharply. She pressed her hand against her mouth, trying hard to stifle the panicked breaths that threatened to escape. The flimsy shower curtain barely stirred as she made the slightest movement, but each subtle quiver resonated like a siren, alerting her presence to him.

The toilet roared to life, and Violet recoiled, her heart racing wildly. The abrupt, jarring noise shattered the heavy stillness around her, and she tightly shut her eyes, yearning—almost begging—for the ground to swallow her whole. Then came the low, guttural rumble of Clive's voice, words too indistinct to understand, but laced with a palpable menace. The gush of the tap followed, its noise momentarily covering the subtle shift of her weight. But the reprieve was fleeting. Her breath hitched as his shadow enveloped her, growing more imposing and darker, an oppressive forewarning of what lay ahead. 

A cold shiver, not of water but of pure dread, traced a path down her temple. Each second stretched, heavy with the unspoken question of whether he'd yank back the shower curtain. The thought of being discovered by him—of Ivy's carefully constructed lie unravelling in an instant—was enough to make her throat close in terror.

The sudden squeak of the faucet being turned off was like a starting pistol to her frantic heart, and the rough tearing of a towel sent another jolt of fear through her. She was coiled, like a spring ready to unleash, bracing herself for the possibility of his looming presence. Instead, the heavy thuds of his boots receded, step by agonizing step, toward the door.

A shaky sigh of relief escaped as the door groaned open, a temporary reprieve.

But then, his voice, a guttural roar, cut through the relative quiet: "Diane, you're a damn pain in the arse!" The words, not just angry but possessing a sinister edge, hung heavy in the air. 

Diane's sharp retort, laced with venom and delivered without hesitation, mirrored his hostility perfectly. The bathroom door crashed shut with a sense of finality, the echoes of their heated exchange serving as a stark reminder that she remained ensnared, concealed, and very much within his grasp. Violet's lungs burned with each ragged breath, her body a tight coil of lingering fear. The cacophony beyond the bathroom door was reaching a fever pitch – a brutal symphony of shouts and threats that sent shivers down her spine.

Suddenly, a sliver of light sliced through the darkness as the door groaned open, her heart seizing until Ivy's face materialized, etched with a fierce urgency. 

"Let's go," Ivy breathed, her voice a low, solid anchor in the chaos. She offered a hand, and Violet clutched it tight, scrambling from the tub, muscles trembling with the residue of adrenaline.

Ivy snatched a towel and slung it over her shoulder, transforming it into a makeshift cape. "Stick close, and keep low," she commanded, her tone unwavering. "Use me for cover. Fast and quiet, understand?" 

Violet gave a quick nod, her heart racing as adrenaline heightened her awareness. She crouched down slightly, aligning herself with Ivy as they took refuge beneath the makeshift shelter. The towel draped low, effectively concealing her from view, and she mirrored Ivy's cautious movements as they stealthily made their way out of the bathroom.

The corridor reverberated, filled not with the sound of footsteps but with the sharp, rising clash of Clive and Diane's dispute. Each word was a jagged shard, ready to break the tense silence and overpower the hurried rustle of their movements. Violet stayed as close to Ivy as possible, her small frame hidden entirely by her protector.

As they arrived at Ivy's bedroom, she swung the door open and ushered Violet inside. With a soft click and the comforting turn of the lock, the outside world disappeared, leaving them in a protective bubble. Ivy leaned against the sturdy door, finally releasing a breath she hadn't realized she was holding—a sigh that expressed the relief of a danger now temporarily averted. 

Violet straightened up, the tension in her body finally beginning to ease. "That was a close call," she murmured quietly. 

Ivy nodded. "Yeah, a little too close for comfort." she remarked, peeling the flimsy towel from her shoulders with a swift, decisive motion. She glided across the room, casually tossing the towel over the back of a chair before making her way to the bed. With a soft rustle, she pulled a blanket free and offered it to Violet. "Try to get some rest," she encouraged. I'll stand watch."

Violet clutched the blanket tightly, her fingers woven into the fabric as if it were her sole lifeline. The anxiety still hung in the air, a knot in her stomach, but Ivy's steady resolve offered a reassuring solace. At last, even if only little, the pressure on her chest subsided.

For what felt like forever, she'd been adrift, completely isolated in her own little storm. But in this moment, something shifted. The crushing loneliness, the constant companion she'd grown almost accustomed to, loosened its grip. She wasn't entirely free of it, not yet, but for the first time in ages, she didn't feel quite so utterly alone...