Wow, it's been a bit since I've done this.

So I am not entirely sure if anyone who read my original story 'Remade' is on here anymore, and if you are, and somehow found your way here, then let me welcome you to Remade: The Reboot!

Remade was my favorite fanfiction I ever worked on, and in fact, the only one I proudly kept on here (I deleted the rest of the crap). But, having read through it again, I realized there was some stuff that was shoddy, to say the least. And although I'm working on a legitimate novel, sometimes I have dry spells. I've always found fanfiction to encourage me to write and create.

It was time that Remade was given a bit of a makeover.

Some plot points will stay the same, and others will change. It will still be a humor based story, but it is going to be a lot darker from the get-go. Last time I wrote this story I was 15-19. Now, I'm 21 and I have a fresh outlook, and have improved.

If you didn't read the original and would like to, it is still on my profile, and YouTuber ASecretIHave also did a reading of it on her channel. If you'd prefer to read this version with a fresh mind, then this is where you start!

NOTE: In order to maintain authenticity to character, some might have different viewpoints than my own, and use language or have actions I do not agree with. But if every character had my system of beliefs, there would be no legitimate character development and diversity. Any language one may find offensive, I apologize in advance. Those words I do not use, so please, keep this into consideration.

Chapter One

Whimpers matched with trembling, shaky breaths, stifled by unrelenting panic, echoed against the walls. The sound bounced from boiler to boiler, the pipes sending it flying back to Emily's ears. Sweat was pouring down her brow and nose, collecting in the crevice of her clavicle and dripping past her chest. Intense heat prompted sweat, but fear drew out far more than the blaring heat ever could.

Without hesitation she turned the corner, hoping to God there was an exit somewhere, anywhere, in this hell hole. Hell, she thought, I think I'm in hell. Instead of an exit, she found a dead end, and unable to slow down, slammed head first into the steel wall. With a cry of pain, Emily squeezed her eyes shut as tears welled in them, dripping and swirling with the sweat atop her skin. Head pounding, she slapped her palms across the steel wall, feeling for a door, an edge, and opening; anything. All she felt was hot steel.

"No," Emily felt her throat tighten, and a sob clawed its way out, "No, please…there must," squeezing her eyes tighter, she tried desperately to drown the throbbing, but the hissing steam and clanking metal only worsened it. Eyes blurry, with dizziness and tears, Emily slowly dropped, turning to press her back against the wall. Unable to contain it anymore, Emily wrapped her arms around her legs and began to sob.

This was how it always started. Building up the fear, increasing the heart rate, toying with the victim until they couldn't bear it anymore; his twisted way of marinating his prey.

In the past it had been far more intoxicating. He found ways to toy with their insecurities, and with their feeble minds. Convince them they were safe, and that nothing was out of the ordinary. And then, very slowly, begin to twist their concept of reality. Something's wrong, they think, and before they know it, all of their fears are coming to life. But the reveal, oh how he fucking loved the reveal; the look on the face made him drool with anticipation.

Lately, however? It was all too much fucking work with no fucking payoff. Tonight might change that. Sure there was no build up. He had to jump ahead and startled her, which wasn't nearly as satisfying but it did the trick. He could smell her fear, and knew a quick game of cat and mouse might amp her up.

"Emily…" she shrieked at his growl, and opened her red, swollen eyes just enough to see his shadow stretch across the wall. "Are you hiding from me Emily?" As he rounded the corner her sobs only worsened, and she crawled pathetically into the corner, and tried to shield herself from him.

"Leave me alone!" Emily screamed – but it sounded more like 'Le-he-he-he-aeve me-he-he ah-ah-lo-oh-ohne' as her voiced buckled and caved – and he let out a gleeful chuckle.

"What's wrong?" He stepped closer – oh, she smelled divine – "Are you scared?" His footsteps were quiet, but his presence was strong. Now having closed in on her, he knelt down, grabbed her by the hair, and with one aggressive tug yanked her head up. Forced to face him, her eyes shot open wide and she let out another scream. Stronger, it was getting stronger. With a Cheshire grin he slowly pointed a claw towards her forehead, which only drew out more fear and more sobs. Planted firmly on her skin, he dragged down, relieved and excited to find contact. A red line followed the claw, blood gushing from it as he drew down to her chin, and pulled back to admire the art he'd created.

"Please," Emily's voice had begun to crack and die, nothing but a pathetic murmur now. With a snarl he spread his claws, nodding vigorously. He couldn't wait anymore; not at the risk of her waking up.

"Since you asked so nicely," in one violent thrust his claws tore at her face. Sprayed with blood and drowned by screams, he only paused a second. One eye had been yanked lose and her jaw dangled, mouth torn by the sheer force. With just enough energy left he drew his arm back and thrust forward, his claws breaking the skin and erupting from the back of her neck like spikes driven through dirt. A weak gurgle escaped from her dying throat, blood bubbling forward, and it pooled on the floor. Finally, after months of dehydration he had something.

Of course, it wouldn't last.

With a huff he yanked his claws free, and the body dropped to the floor. Yellow hair was tainted red, and as the body began to disintegrate, her soul evaporated from her body, and quickly soared towards him in a blur of blue and yellow, swallowed up in a matter of seconds. A sigh of relief, he watched the body completely disappear, before turning his head towards the hall again. Who knows when the next one will fall into his lap?

His head shot up, and his body froze.

Someone else was here.

In a matter of seconds he was standing on the grated platform above his new visitors. Except these ones could bring him nothing of use. Disgusted, he scoffed.

"Hey, assholes," the pair glanced up in surprise (well, he assumed it was surprise, considering he couldn't see their actual fucking faces), "What the fuck do you want?" Neither answered, and he rolled his eyes; always with the silence shit. "I'm a fucking demon. I can hear your thoughts," he aggressively tapped the side of his head, "Or, I don't know, here's an idea, fucking dream up a pen and some fucking paper. Actually, you," he pointed a blade down at one of them, "don't have an excuse Myers; you're not fucking mute, this is just aesthetic for you," he paused, "you pretentious asswipe."

Michael Myers felt a twinge of irritation, and for a moment, considered leaving. But given the circumstances, that wasn't much of an option. He took a deep breathe, and instead, opted to flip the bird at Freddy-Fucking-Hell-He's-An-Asshole-Krueger.

"Oh, fuck you too. At least dumbfuck here is too retarded to speak," Freddy motioned to Jason Voorhees, who too, was breathing heavily.

We can do this without him, you know, Jason remarked, his thoughts hushed like a whisper. Michael shook his head, and rolled his eyes (although no one could see).

"I heard that, fuckface!" Freddy dropped down, landing directly in front of the two killers, who exchanged a quick glance. "And what, exactly, is this?" Once again, neither answered, and Freddy found himself growing impatient. "Well? Hockeypuck? Hallowfuck? Either of you gonna say something?"

You're pretty drained, aren't you? Krueger reeled back a bit.

"Still don't understand why you can't just talk, but this will do," He sighed, leaning back against a boiler. Smoke swirled up and off of the fabric of his sweater, which burned only slightly.

We aren't getting enough either. Normally I wouldn't care about shit like this but they're up to something. Freddy nodded, his eyes shot over to Jason, and read him up and down.

"You feel the same?" Jason nodded, taking another deep breath.

Michael has a plan.

"A plan, hm?" Freddy stood up straight, glancing down at the newly dried blood on his blades. It wasn't enough. Not to last, at least. "It's gotten worse. I'm not a stickler for the rules but I'm getting fucked over here and I'll be damned if I don't…listen, to your plan, "He grit his teeth and cracked his neck. With a swift turn on the heel and dramatic wave of the arm, he motioned behind them, "Have a seat gentlemen." Both turned to find a table and three chairs placed within the room, and slowly, all three made their way, sitting down. Silence followed. And then…

I think I found a temporary solution.

I thought my hiding spot was good enough but I can hear her coming into the bedroom. Part of me wants to escape, or fight back, do something! But the sound of the bedroom door creaking open kept me in place. What do I do, what do I do? She's getting closer to the door. For a moment I feel brave, and swing it open. The closet door hits her square in the nose sending her flying back, her ass hitting the floor. I dart around her and into the hallway. It's hard to see, the moonlight through the window barely illuminates the house, but I can't give up. Past the kitchen, into the breezeway; she's gotten up and is running behind me, her long hair flying behind her and the knife still in her hand. I have to escape.

I'm outside and someone else is too. He's trying to escape as well but she has broken outside and barreled into him. Distracted by a new victim, I have a chance. But the world has slowed down and I cannot run. She's almost done with him and I'm frozen in the driveway.

Then it hits me; this is a dream.

A tingling sensation reminds me this isn't real and I break free from the trance, bolting across the street towards the neighbor's house. She's noticed and started to follow, but as I turn to look back at her, I think of what I want to happen.

A truck honks ferociously at her, and I turn away before I have to see the impact.

Now calm, I walk into the backyard where the grass dips down into various hills. The sky isn't black anymore, but instead is filled with stars and more than one moon. Up ahead I dream of a lake, with the reflection of the moon glancing back at me atop the water. I start to head towards it-

"Ash, have you seen my Nikes?" My sister yelled, opening the bedroom door as she did. Her shouting, combined with the sound of wood hitting plaster shot me up into the air, shrieking. I rubbed my eyes, and reached for my glasses, which were clinging to the edge of the bedside table for dear life. Another dream, another attempt at me perfecting my lucid dreaming, and I was woken up by Tasha yet again.

She was always quite a sight.

Already wearing her spandex and workout tee that said "Mind/Matter" in a nauseating highlighter yellow, I could tell she was heading to the gym for an intense workout. It felt embarrassing considering I was still wrapped beneath my emerald comforter, in oversized out-of-season Christmas pajamas. Her tan shins were decorated in bruises, which she sported, proud of her Rugby "badges" as she called them. Hazel hair was already tightly pulled up into a ponytail, her green eyes glistening with excitement and pencil brows dipped in defiant arches.

God I wish I got excited to work out.

Well, if I worked out.

"Uhhh last I saw them they were by the front door, on the shoe rack. They not there?" She shrugged, walking inside my room, glancing up at the paintings tacked up on my white walls. It was always like she was seeing them for the first time, making a noise of approval as she walked by.

"Haven't checked yet."

"…So, why did you ask me-"

"I'm just gonna borrow your sneakers, not like you use them anyway," before I could blink Tasha had thrown open the double doors to my closet, snatching my sneakers, "Thanks!" In a blur she was gone, slamming my door behind her. My paintings on the wall wobbled from the impact, and my pen rolled off of the desk onto the floor. Once again in her excitement, Tasha had unknowingly been a bit of a pain and slightly inconsiderate. I'd be irritated if she wasn't right; I hadn't used those sneakers since working at the ice cream stand in the summer. Her tenacity was admirable, and who am I to look down on her eagerness to exercise?

An actual knock at my door was surprising to hear, and for a moment I thought, 'Hey, Tasha came to apologize for just barging in the first time', but that was hopeful thinking. Instead my Mom poked her head inside the room.

"Can I come in?" I nodded, and she smiled back at me.

God, Mom was so beautiful. She too, was naturally tan, and had a glow about her 24/7. Tasha had inherited her frame, tall but fit, well endowed and legs to die for. They also shared the same striking eyes that demanded respect and attention. The only thing I seemed to inherit was Mom's vibrant auburn hair, but while hers was lush and perfectly curled, mine was frizzy, wavy, and lacking in shine. I looked more like Dad; pale as the moon, splattered with freckles and eyebrows thick which, thank God, is a trend now a days. I don't miss being called "Caterpillar Brows." I even inherited his poor eyesight, but that's why they invented contact lenses.

I used to never want to change a thing about myself (even when I was bullied for bushy brows). Now all I see is a reminder that I'm here and he's not.

"Yeah, sure; I'm not going anywhere anytime soon," I checked the clock. 11:23 am, Mom was most likely heading for a jog. "Tom already left?"

"Mhm," as expected, she was decked from head to toe in rose pink. Matching leggings and tank top, and even little grey and pink sneakers. Her attention to detail amazed me, "What time do you have work today?" Her voice was gentle, so I could tell what was coming.

"Four, " I sighed, scooting over. Mom sat on the bed, wiggling a bit before sitting still.

"Any plans afterwards?"

"Come home, paint, maybe stay up past 10:00 for once," I clapped my hands, "Which would be," cue the jazz hands, "Crazy." Immediately I saw the worry lines around her eyes, sharp brows furrowed and her lips parted before she let out the tiniest of sighs.

"No other plans? What about Morgan, what is she doing tonight?" I shrugged, and Mom ran a hand through her hair, "Honey, I'm starting to get worried about you." Oh boy, here we go again.

"Mom."

"I know you said you're happy for me, and for Tom-"

"Which I am."

"But I'm starting to think that deep down, you're really bothered with us-"

"Which I'm not," Her lips became a thin line as I cut her off, and I could see her eyes scanning my face. All the while my eyes glanced down at the rings on her fingers; a gold band atop a beautiful diamond (coupled by smaller but just as beautiful diamonds) on her ring finger, and a small but striking diamond surrounded by cluster of rubies on her middle finger.

"Ashling…"

"Mom," I took her hand, squeezing it, "I'm fine. Really!"

"Maybe I'm just being a paranoid Mom, and I know the migraines make it hard, but I just think you need a routine of some kind."

"I do have a routine," I sat up, holding up a finger, "If it's the week I go to class, hang in the art room for a bit, and then I work. And if it's the weekend, I do chores around the house and work. I've got hobbies too, again, the painting." Mom's eyes only filled with more worry; she wasn't buying it.

"You don't keep busy enough. You're going to be twenty before too long, you should be going out with friends, joining clubs; why don't you go with Tasha to the gym?" I snorted, holding up my stick arm and wiggling it.

"I don't think I could keep up."

"Or go on walks with me? Would you please consider just taking walks with me, just as a start?"

"You're doing that pouty lip thing," Mom only quivered it more, clasping her hands together, even adding a whiny little sound. Such a cheat, I hate it when she does this. "Eeeergh, fine! Fine, I'll go on walks with you, okay? I don't want you thinking I'm a basket case, you know." She opened her mouth, as if she were offended.

"I never said you're a basket case!"

"You were thinking it," I threw the covers off my body, and as I stood, my brain pounded quickly for a couple of seconds. I winced, rubbing my temple, "I think it's time I eat a little something."

"If your head is hurting, don't be afraid to smoke," I rolled my eyes, "Ash, the doctor suggested it. We agreed there's nothing wrong with trying something new, I thought you wanted to give it a try. And besides, not all prescription drugs are good for you so I feel content with this." Mom's watch let out a tiny 'a-ding', "Maureen is on her way, so I'm going to head out."

"You know, have you ever considered, for a moment, that this is just how I am?" I sighed, gripping the banister as she exited my room, "I know you and Tasha are extroverted and all, but that's never been me."

"That's funny, I recall a certain red-headed child of mine climbing trees when I asked her not to, and sneaking out to hang with friends at an age where she shouldn't be sneaking out at all; let alone be outside without a parent in the yard."

"So you're suggesting I should start sneaking out?" Mom's eyes narrowed but she was smirking, "It seems that's what you're suggesting."

"Please just consider reaching out to Morgan, or even ask your sister what she's up to tonight. I don't want you being so alone all of the time," I could hear the desperation in her voice. Today was one of those days where I wished I could be more like her; especially so she wouldn't be so worried about her out-of-place daughter.

"She texted me something about wanting to do a cleanse," Mom's nose wrinked.

"Another one? I don't think we're that bad, and the smell is finally out of your room!"

"If she cleanses my room, you're to blame," I pointed at her, opening the cabinet above the sink, grabbing the waffle batter, "You and Tom aren't planning on getting too drunk tonight are you? I don't want to have to hold your hair back, young lady," Mom chuckled, flicking my shoulder with her perfectly manicured fingers, "Hey! I know you like your Mai Tai's."

"How did such a smart girl end up with such a smart mouth?"

"I'm my fathers daughter, I guess." A somber feeling melted the lighter atmosphere, and I could immediately feel her pain. "I'm sorry."

"No need to be, honey," Mom smiled, rubbing my previously flicked shoulder, "I'm going to be gone for no more than an hour. Maybe we can do something before you leave for work? You can help me organize my invoices."

"I'll let you know how sitting around in my PJ's goes, maybe I can schedule you in." With a roll of her eyes, Mom grabbed her cup, already filled with a smoothie of some kind (the woman could make a damn good smoothie) and grabbed her phone from the island.

"Call if you need anything, okay? Let me know when Tasha is home, she seems to ignore all of my texts."

"Okay!" Mom blew me a kiss – which I caught with perfect dexterity – before jogging out the front door, closing it behind her. And like that, I was alone. A Saturday morning tradition; or maybe a Saturday afternoon tradition, considering it was half an hour to noon and I still hadn't gotten up. Who cares, it was a tradition either way.

As was making a cup of tea, usually earl gray, and attempting to work the waffle maker. I seemed to struggle with cooking a decent waffle; the batter never fully cooked and always got stuck to the pain. Shredded waffles seemed to be my specialty. Despite being torn to pieces they were always delicious.

The first bite was the best; the bits of cinnamon I added really made the syrup sweeter. Syrup dribbled down the side of my mouth, but being the disgusting trash bag of a person I am, I realized with no one around to witness this, I could continue to let it dribble while taking yet another bite.

These are the complicated decisions a nineteen year old makes, folks.

"And next in the exciting adventures of Ashling Turcotte, re-watching The Office for the fifteenth tiiiiiime!" I bellowed, spitting bits of batter and syrup as I slid across the floor and hopped over the couch. Leather cushioned my plop and I snuggled in tight, using my foot to drag the remote closer. My big toe was great at turning on the power button, and I finally managed to snatch it up. Nothing interesting was on, so Netflix seemed to be an immediate choice.

Grace and Frankie played away, and although I loved Jane Fonda, I couldn't help but continue looking over my shoulder, to the large glass doors that led to the patio. I'd glance at the TV, and then turn. Glance and turn. Glance and turn. Ech, my neck; I rubbed it but continued glancing up at the window above and behind me.

Despite the comfort of a warm morning, your comfiest pj's and favorite breakfast…have you ever felt unsettled? You feel as though you're being watched and you're never safe? There should be no alarm bells ringing in my head on such a beautiful morning, and yet a hot vibe crept up my neck and into my head. Granted, this wasn't new for me. At least once a week I thought someone was breaking in, someone was hurt or missing, and constantly was asking Tasha to come kill bugs for me.

It's not that they scare me! I just, euhg, God, I hate the squish. Makes me gag.

Mom had mentioned I was paranoid, while Tom described me as anxious and excitable. Tasha? Tasha described me as "a pussy".

"You're a pussy. I love you, but you're a pussy," she'd said as she snatched a creepy crawlie by the leg, before dangling it in front of my face and then flushing it down the toilet. I'd tried to explain that bugs could crawl back up the toilet and make a home in your ass but Tasha ignored me. And once more, told me, "You need to stop being such a pussy."

Yeah, can't argue that.

But this was different. I sometimes felt paranoid that someone was watching me, but that was usually at night when I couldn't see whatever CREEPS might be in the woods. Which, yeah, there were potentially no creeps at all and probably never have been. But this morning?

I shivered. Shit, someone's stepping on my grave.

Unable to shake the feeling I decided to cave, and draw the curtains. I started with the window above the couch, before bouncing off and stepping lightly towards the patio. Gripping the edge of the beige and blue curtain, I quickly yanked it shut.

Wait, what the fuck?

My heart skipped a beat as my eyes caught a flash of a figure standing near the edge of the woods, just beyond the shed. A pale-faced man. Shit. Shit. Shit. My jelly legs drew me to the floor, my back slapped against the now covered door. Do I look? Is it stupid to look? Should I call Mom?

Oh God no what if he gets to Mom before she can get inside?

The racing beat of my heart didn't help my rapid train of thoughts, and I contemplated; do I text her? Do I call the police? Or is it all in my head?

Despite my heart pounding violently, and my fingers shaking uncontrollably, they stilled managed to grip the edge of the curtain. Slowly, I peeled it back, peeking through. In the broad light of day, not a spot was hidden, and I realized it was nothing more than a couple of brush.

I could've sworn I saw a face….

"Why do you do this to me, brain?" I huffed, standing upright again. I thought that for once I could have a day without a panic attack of some kind. No, instead of a calm Saturday morning overlooking the sunny April morn', I got a whopping migraine colliding into my brain with the force of a freight train.

"Tthhhhh," I grit my teeth, and the sunlight began to burn my eyeballs, making it impossible to open my eyes. Crawling on all fours up the spiral staircase back to my bedroom for a glass pipe, lighter and a grinder full of salvation was nothing new. My fingers shook but managed to get a pinch into the bowl, packing it down, and I managed to get a few shaky hits, until my hands became steady. I hated the smell, and the burning sensation, but edibles and Advil took too long.

When the migraine finally began to subside, I groaned, standing back up.

Today was going to suck.

"Today sucks," I took a swig of water before hiding the bottle below the register again.

"I feel like you say that every day," Drew laughed, applying a new layer of plastic bags to the bag rack, "I think it's just this place that sucks."

"Everything sucks, Drew, at least for me," My pigtails braids kept scratching at my neck, aided by the equally scratchy collar of the mustard yellow polo and way too tight apron strap.

"Why is that?"

"I just suck, therefore everything in my life sucks. I mean, how many other people that we graduated with stayed behind, beside me?" He didn't answer right away. Instead he lifted his eyebrows, before raising a hand, "Oh right…but that's different! You're going on leave soon."

"There's no shame in commuting to a very outstanding university; what works for others doesn't work for everyone. You should be proud."

"Proud," I scoffed, "Of being too chicken-shit to leave home?"

"I'll agree with you there," Drew shrugged, "You're capable of more than you think."

"Uh, not really, no."

"Okay I'm confused, is this a conversation where you want me to just agree with you or actually respond?" I opened my mouth to say something hopefully snarky or clever (except it probably would have been a mess of stuttering), but was interrupted by someone's cart bumping into the belt.

"Hi, how are you today?" My voice become almost unrecognizable, as it had now entered Customer Service Mode TM, and it was greeted by a purple tinted smile, "Oh thank God it's just you. You have lipstick on your teeth, by the way."

"I notice you and Drew are bickering again," Morgan rubbed her front teeth with her thumb, before baring them at me.

"You're good," she gave me two henna tattooed thumbs up, "I was just telling him how I suck."

"She's a beacon of energy and it's all negative," Morgan sighed, leaning on her shoulder. The vines of her inky flowers crept up her skin, peeking out from under her shirt.

"I've noticed," Drew took a deep breath, rolling his eyes a little as I shot him a look, "She said it, not me."

"You agreed," I pointed at him, before pointing at Morgan, "Do you want to come over tonight?" A sly smirk crept up her face, and her rosy cheeks blossomed as she smiled.

"Were you going to ask me if I hadn't decided to visit today?"

"…Maybe," Morgan gave me an all-knowing glance, her silver blonde hair falling in front of her face a little as she leaned forward, "Okay, no."

"I know you too well, little rosebud," She pat the top of my head, her baby blue eyes swimming with love for her best friend. Drew tilted his head, and leaned forward to get a better look at the ensemble that Morgan had on today. Her belle-bottom pants were decorated with black and gold flowers, and her ivory blouse opened at the wrist of the sleeves. A white opal triple moon pendant rested on her chest, where more of her tattoos peeked out.

"Loving the digs today Morgan, feeling like a seventies witch today?"

"Thank you, kind sir! And yes." She twirled, her hair flying behind her before falling right back into place. For a moment you could see the same triple moon on the back of her neck in ink. "Ashling I have the most fabulous deck I want to show you! When I walked into Women of Wisdom I was immediately drawn to it. Plus I think it's time for another cleansing."

"Another one?" My nose wrinkled, "I just stopped smelling the incense from last time."

"Too-" She stopped mid sentence, glancing over to her left, moving her eyes only. Her head stayed in place. Drew and I followed her glance to see a man standing with a basket under arm.

"Am I interrupting something?" His voice was jolly, on the surface. But I found myself growing goosebumps on my arms.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry, she was just leaving!" I shot Morgan a look, but she didn't even notice. She was too busy still eyeballing the man. A few seconds passed before she started moving, casting a look towards me. I knew that expression; she was sensing something. Without saying a goodbye, she walked away, heading towards the candy aisle.

"A friend visiting?" The man asked, and as he stepped closer, I got a better look. He must've been at least fifty, but didn't look too rough. His frame was thin, but he himself wasn't too tall. In fact, he was so ordinary it was boring. What the hell was Morgan so wigged about?

"Yeah, she'll live while I actually do my job, " I chuckled, but my laughter stopped as we made eye contact. Blue-green eyes stared back at me, and they sent chills running across my spine. How could a man so boring have eyes so...unsettling? Unbeknownst to my vacant expression and brain, my hands were continuing their job, scanning item after item, and sent them down to Drew who bagged them efficiently. All the while, the man stared and smiled at me, eyes bouncing all around, as though he were scanning me.

"You're probably dying to get off shift, huh?" With a smile the man glanced over the candy selection behind him. "Hm," his fingertips grazed the various labels and bars, "God I can never pick what I want!" he looked back at us, shrugging, his mannerisms reminding me a little of a stilted, awkward Mr. Rogers, "What time do you close, ten?"

"Yeah," I replied quietly, before clearing my throat, "if you're having trouble picking, I'd suggest Reeses. I mean, unless you're allergic to peanut butter...but they truly are the best."

"Lucky for me, I am not!" With a cat-like swipe he picked up the king sized bar, turning on his heel and handing it directly to me. His thumb brushed against the skin atop my hand as he passed it off, "Thank you, Ashling." A lump the size of that king bar formed in my throat, and I subtly yanked the bar away, scanning it pretty much by accident.

"How did you…" Oh no, Ash, don't you dare start to stutter. My breathing had quickened its pace.

"Uh, Ash, " Drew tapped on the belt, before tapping on his name-tag. Oh. Right. Drew shook his head before he glanced down, probably marking down 'What minor inconvenience got Ash worked up this time' in his mental diary.

"Never mind, sorry."

"No apologies needed! Night shifts make everyone a little loopy, myself included! 'Course, I find that I thrive in the nighttime. It's when I do my best work," He handed me cash, and walked away before I could even enter it into the register, "See you later." With a wink and a smile he had grabbed his bags, and was off in a flash. I couldn't help but watch him leave through the automatic doors and walk out into the setting sun.

"Ash you didn't even try to give him his change!" I nodded frantically, and Drew came up behind me expecting to chase after our customer.

"Oh, wait. He gave exact change, down to the penny," I explained, typing it in and dispersing the money into the drawer.

"Wait, did you even tell him the total?" Drew shook his head, "I think that guy might've been a bit of a nut."

"Yeah," I replied, slightly breathless, and looked down my register to Morgan, who stood at the end of the candy aisle. Her face was somber, sunken and drained of color. Suddenly the color shot back into her, and she shook her head, before she smiled at me and held up two bags of Twizzlers in her hands.

"They're the pull apart kind!" I smiled, but found myself turning to look at the door once again. The man was gone.

Sorry for the boring start. The next chapter will be a bit more tense, pinky promise!

Like it? Hate it? Criticism? Let me know your thoughts!