Chapter Text
The last thing Millie wanted to do on a Friday night, alone, was scrounge around the old mill. Yet here she was, looking for whatever remained of the butcher. She had no idea if he was even here, she figured after he was let out of the hospital, he had gone somewhere far, far away.
Walking down the dusty concrete hall, she approached the room he'd last stayed in. As she walked inside, no trace remained. Slightly disappointed, she turned to leave but was greeted by the butcher emerging from where she had stood.
"I followed you here," he admitted, then added, "I knew that you wouldn't stay away."
She gulped. It was true, ever since they had returned to their bodies, she felt him. The impact he'd had on her. He helped her feel strong. She hated to admit it, but she wasn't as meek as she used to be. Deep down, there was a darkness that had been stirred.
After all, he had sort of killed all of her school bullies. Now she was even sort of popular at school. She'd been deemed a final girl, a badass. She knew she was playing with fire, but also, she'd stopped caring if he was dangerous.
He watched her as she sorted through her thoughts. He walked closer to her, reaching out a hand to her chin and lifting her head up to stare into her big, blue eyes.
Those eyes. The ones he desperately wanted to stare into every day. Of course, he wouldn't admit it. He barely understood his attraction to her.
She had just turned eighteen, even though she was legally an adult, she was definitely still a kid. A kid who would grow up and go to college and marry some asshole. He knew she would never have feelings for him. He hated himself for even liking her.
He stretched out his callused hand, "Come with me," he said, trying to read the look on her face. She nodded, her small, soft, heavenly hand grasping his. He stared for a moment, dumbfounded, then began to lead her out of the mill.