Chapter Text
Dara and Julie were hanging out at the barn, feeding the animals and talking about random topics, from their favorite artists to TV show recommendations. As Dara tossed another handful of food to the chickens, the easy conversation drifted toward the main issue that had been weighing on her mind.
"I can't shake the feeling that Father Khatri and my sister are hiding something," Dara said, keeping her voice low so it didn't carry past the barn doors. "There’s this tension when they’re in the same room and I caught him in a lie yesterday."
Julie leaned against a wooden pillar, watching her. "Isn’t lying a sin? I feel like a priest shouldn’t be lying to keep a secret. Maybe you should just talk to him again and call him out on his bullshit."
Dara nodded her head slightly, wiping her hands on her jeans. "Yeah, I probably should. He was talking to your mom that day, too. She gave him some papers, I think."
"My mom?" Julie frowned, her posture straightening. "She hasn't said anything about that. What kind of papers?"
"I don't know," Dara admitted. "Maybe it was about something else, or maybe she’s also involved."
Julie opened her mouth to reply, but her eyes caught something at the edge of the forest. She squinted against the afternoon light. "Hey, is that Sierra?"
Dara turned to look. Far down the dirt path, near the dense edge of the forest, Sierra’s silhouette was hurrying back toward Town. Even from this distance, her posture was off. She wasn't walking with her usual confident stride, her shoulders were tense, and her braided ponytail was swinging around wildly.
"She looks... scared," Julie murmured, a trace of worry in her voice. "Or just stressed. I've never seen her look like that."
"Yeah," Dara agreed, watching Sierra disappear around a bend toward the houses. "That's definitely not her usual self. I wonder what happened out there."
Julie let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through her straight hair. "This place is just breaking everyone down. There’s this weird man at Colony House — Victor — Fatima said that he’s been here for a really long time. Do you think we’ll be stuck here forever and then just turn crazy?"
"I would hope not… Maybe this Victor guy is weird because he's been here for way too long. And if he’s been here that long, shouldn’t he also know things? Like things the people here hide."
“Do you think any of them will tell us anything? They probably think that it’s ‘grown people’s business’ or some bullshit,” Julie said, rolling her eyes.
“I don’t know, but I’m going to talk to Father Khatri and find out.”
Dara parted ways with Julie and headed to the church, her mind locked on getting those answers. The gray sky was shifting, casting long shadows across the road.
As she neared the building, a familiar voice called out to her.
"Dara!"
Dara stopped, slightly caught off guard as she turned around. "Hey, Kenny. What's up?"
"Do you know if Sierra is home?" he asked, shifting a cardboard box to one arm. He looked a little nervous, his eyes darting toward the house and then back to Dara.
"I saw her walking to Town earlier when I was at the barn, so I would think so," Dara told him.
"Awesome. Thank you," Kenny said, giving her a quick, grateful smile.
Dara watched him walk back across the road. He stepped up onto the porch and knocked firmly on the front door, waiting with the box tucked under his arm. She felt a brief flash of confusion, wondering what was in the box and why he was looking for Sierra.
A present? Another secret? She shook it off. She had her own mission.
Turning on her heel, Dara walked up to the church and pushed the wooden door open, stepping into the dim room to find the person she was looking for.
“Dara,” Father Khatri looked at her, slightly surprised. He had been sweeping dirt near the altar, but he put the broom aside as she approached. “Did you come to talk about today’s sermon?”
“Not really, Father. I just had a question about sins.”
Khatri’s expression shifted, his eyes reflecting a soft curiosity. He gestured toward the front pew. "Take a seat. What's on your mind?"
Dara sat down in front of him, hands folded in her lap.
"I was wondering about the sin of lying," she said, her voice steady. "If someone lies or hides something important, would God judge them or punish them?"
Khatri watched her closely, the sudden stillness in his posture proving that the question hit exactly where she wanted it to. He folded his hands in front of him. "God sees both the lie and the reason for it. There will always be consequences, but a sinner is not necessarily beyond redemption. As 1 John 1:9 says, ‘If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.’ The truth will always come out, whether we like it or not, but intent matters.”
“Have you ever lied, Father?”
The question hung in the dusty air between them. For a second, the only sound in the church was the distant chatter of the town folks. Khatri didn't move. His hands remained folded, but his jaw tightened just enough for the muscle to twitch.
Slowly, he took a seat next to her, looking at her not just as a priest, but as a man who suddenly felt very troubled.
"I am a man of God, Dara, but I am still a man," Khatri said, his voice dropping as he scratched his salt-and-pepper beard. "Anyone who claims they have never uttered a falsehood is a liar themselves. Yes. I have lied. And I have omitted the truth when I thought it was necessary."
Dara fully turned toward him. "Even if it hurts people? Even if keeping that secret means someone else suffers?"
"Sometimes," Khatri said, his tone turning sharp, "we stay silent because the truth is a weight too heavy for others to carry. It isn't always about selfishness. It can be about survival."
"And who gets to decide who is strong enough to carry it?" Dara countered, her voice matching his intensity. "You? My sister? Because from where I'm standing… or sitting, keeping everyone else in the dark isn't protection, Father. It just makes the rest of us blind."
Khatri stared at her for a long moment, measuring the fierce determination in her expression. He let out a slow, heavy breath and stood back up, picking up his broom as if trying to re-establish his boundaries.
"You're not that different from your sister, you know that?" he said quietly, his back partially turned to her. "Very clever. Very stubborn. In this case, not knowing is better. Go home. Talk to your sister. But leave the rest of it alone."
Sierra was sitting at the living room table with her notebook, writing down her earlier hallucination.
A music box with a ballerina. Familiar piano music. The ginger creature.
Having nightmares or hallucinations about the monsters made sense to her, but everything else? Unexplainable. Maybe she heard the piano music because she had finally opened up to Kenny about her past and her mind just messed with her, but that still didn’t explain the music box with the ballerina inside. And the cawing.
What is it with these crows, Sierra thought, chewing the end of her pen.
A triple knock interrupted her thoughts. She closed the notebook and walked to the front door. As she opened it, a nervous Kenny stood on the porch, a cardboard box in his hands.
“Hello, neighbor,” he smiled.
She blinked at him.
Kenny shifted his weight from one foot to the other before continuing, “Sorry to bother you. My name’s Kenny, and I heard you just moved in.”
Sierra laughed under her breath, “Hi, Kenny. Very nice to meet you. Why don’t you come in?”
She stepped to the side, holding the door open. Kenny smoothly entered, looking around the house as if it were his very first time stepping inside. He turned back toward her as she clicked the door shut behind him.
“I love what you did to the place. Great wallpaper.”
She glanced at him, eyes bright with amusement. “Did you come here to roleplay, or what’s going on?”
“Just wanted to talk and give you a present.”
“Oh, a present? For me? You shouldn’t have,” she teased, crossing her arms.
“Um, so I noticed that you really like green tea,” Kenny said, holding the box out a bit more. “And since my mom and I don’t really drink it, I thought you might want it. I put some snacks in there as well, in case you get bored at night or something.”
Sierra looked down at the contents of the box before her gaze lifted, her dark brown eyes meeting his. She smiled so brightly that it instantly warmed his chest.
“That’s very thoughtful of you. Thank you.”
She grabbed the box from his hands and put it on the kitchen table, right next to her notebook. Kenny shoved his hands into his pockets, his eyes flickering down to the box as he felt a slight blush creep up his neck.
“No problem at all.”
Sierra turned toward the kitchen counter and put the kettle on the stove, desperately in need of a hot cup of tea.
“How was your first night here?” Kenny asked, leaning lightly against the counter next to her.
She let out a heavy sigh. “Barely slept. I just kept thinking, Did I lock the door? Are all the windows closed? Even though I knew we did.” Her tired eyes found his again. “I got visited by one of those creatures last night.”
Kenny’s easy posture vanished instantly. His shoulders went rigid. “What do you mean? As in... they knocked on your window?”
“Yeah,” she admitted.
“Okay… and then you couldn’t force yourself to sleep anymore, I’m guessing?”
“Well, I kinda… talked to him. It.”
Kenny blinked, his voice dropping into a stunned whisper. “You what?”
“I thought if I can’t sleep, I might as well try to figure some things out.”
“That is how they—” Kenny cut himself off, forcing his hands into his pockets to stop himself from starting an argument. He took a sharp breath. “Okay… did you figure things out, then?”
“It knew my name,” Sierra said, leaning back against the counter. “And it didn’t know who the Joker was.”
“What?” Kenny looked entirely lost.
“Right, like who doesn’t know who the Joker is.”
“No, I don't mean that,” Kenny said, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. “Why— how did the conversation even lead to that?”
“I asked for his name and said that he looks like the Joker, and he didn’t know who that was.”
“It.”
“Yeah, it, whatever.”
“You shouldn’t be talking to them,” Kenny said, his tone turning fiercely protective. “That’s how they get into your head, Sierra.”
Sierra rolled her eyes. “Do you think I’m that stupid? To open up a window just because I’m talking to some creature? Be serious…”
“No, I don't think you’re stupid. At all,” Kenny countered, his voice softening with genuine worry. “I just think… maybe they’re talking to you to drain your energy. Those things know us. They know that you rarely sleep, and they’ll use it against you so that you’ll make mistakes during the day — or even worse, at night.”
Sierra stared at the kettle on the stove as it started to let out a quiet, rising whistle. She didn't answer right away. She hated how reasonable he sounded, mostly because she knew he was right. Her mind was already playing tricks on her in the daylight.
"I'm not going to make a mistake," she murmured, lifting the kettle off the burner to cut off the noise. She poured the steaming water over the green tea bag he'd brought, the familiar earthy scent filling the small kitchen.
Kenny watched her back, his expression a mix of frustration and genuine worry. He ran a hand through his short hair, letting out a breath. "Look, I’m sorry. I didn't come here to lecture you. I just want you to be careful, especially with those things. Don’t forget our pact. No dying on my watch.”
A smile ghosted her lips as she faced him, mug in hand. “Right. Sorry, Mr. Deputy.”
Silence filled the room as he stared at her with a faint smile and his annoyingly cute puppy eyes.
“So… how long have you been crushing on Kristi?”
Kenny choked on his own breath. The faint smile vanished, replaced instantly by a look of deer-in-the-headlights panic. His hands flew out of his pockets as he gripped the edge of the counter, his face flushing slightly.
"I— what? Wh-where is this coming from?" he stammered, his voice jumping an entire octave.
Sierra took a slow, casual sip of her tea, watching his total meltdown with immense satisfaction. "I was at the clinic earlier. I have eyes. You turned into a puddle and gave her a romantic mystery book…"
She set her mug aside and stepped closer to Kenny, mimicking his puppy-eyed expression perfectly. “Let me know what you think when you’re done, Kristi. No rush. Mwah, mwah, mwah.”
Kenny’s gaze briefly flickered down to her pouty lips, his pulse spiking as her warm breath brushed against his skin.
"I don’t— that’s not what I did," Kenny protested, his blush deepening by the second. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly finding the wallpaper truly fascinating. "Is it... is it really that obvious?"
"Yeah, dude," Sierra said, leaning back against the counter and crossing her ankles. She felt a brief, weird little twinge in her chest, but she brushed it off. Sleep deprivation was a bitch. "So? Spill. How long?"
Kenny sighed, his shoulders dropping as he accepted his defeat. "I don’t really remember when it started… she arrived several months after we got stuck here, and she stayed in Town for a while before sleeping at the clinic. She took care of my dad. She’s just... she’s great. But she has a fiancée back in the real world. It’s not like anything is ever going to happen."
He looked so genuinely downhearted for a second that Sierra almost felt bad for teasing him. Almost.
"Yeah, she told me about her fiancée," she said softly, catching his eye again. "Maybe you two should just have a proper conversation about this. Ask her how she feels… see if there is any hope. Because if not, it’s just going to hurt you more to keep running after her like a lost puppy.”
She picked up her mug and took another sip. “Also, don't sell yourself short. You’re the fucking deputy. You help keep us safe here, and we all appreciate it."
A slow, genuine smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. After a moment of silence he continued, “You know, I always feel good after talking to you…”
"You should," Sierra nodded, raising one eyebrow as she tried to stay deadpan. "I’m a good conversationalist."
He looked down at the box on the table, then back up at her, his expression softening. "You are. Thanks, Sierra. For the advice. And... for the other stuff."
"Thank you for the care package… but don't get emotional on me, neighbor. I have a reputation to uphold," she teased, raising her mug in a mock toast.
"Right, wouldn't want anyone to think you're actually sweet," Kenny said, stepping toward the front door. He grabbed the doorknob, pausing for a second as he looked over his shoulder. "Get some sleep tonight. No talking to the windows. We need you at your best, okay?"
Sierra’s smiled, but nodded quickly. "Got it. See ya, Deputy."
"See ya."
He gave her one last wave before stepping out onto the porch and clicking the door shut behind him.
The house fell quiet again, the silence rushing back in to fill the empty space. Sierra stood in the kitchen, staring at the closed door, the warmth of the ceramic mug bleeding into her palms. She took a slow breath, her gaze drifting back to the kitchen table where her notebook sat.
How am I supposed to sleep well?
Dara and Sierra had already locked the doors and windows; there was around half an hour left until sundown. The ambient light outside was bleeding from a dull gray into a heavy, ominous amber, casting long shadows through the kitchen. They were having dinner at the kitchen table when Dara decided to confront her older sister.
“I talked to Father Khatri today. I know you’re both lying and hiding something serious.”
Sierra paused, fork in hand. “Can we not do this right now?”
Frustration flickered over Dara’s face as she leaned back in her seat, her jaw tightening. “When else can we talk about this? You keep deflecting.”
“I swear, we can talk about it tomorrow,” Sierra said, her voice dropping into a rare tone of exhaustion that made Dara pause. “I need to talk to Khatri and Boyd first. Once that’s settled, I’ll tell you. Is that okay?”
Dara nodded, surprised that it worked. “Okay, yeah. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”
The rest of the meal passed in a quiet truce. They cleaned up the dishes mechanically as the final rays of daylight vanished. The distant shrieks of the monsters echoed from the woods, signaling the start of the night. It was a sound they were forced to get used to, but it never failed to make the hair on Sierra's arms stand up.
After an hour of failing to fall asleep, the exhaustion of the past days finally caught up to Sierra. Her mind felt foggy, her limbs heavy like lead, but as she frustratedly rolled around in her bed, the thought of being alone in the dark with her thoughts — and the potential of a monster tapping on her window again — made her stomach turn.
Grabbing her pillow, she walked across the small hallway and quietly pushed open Dara's bedroom door.
To Sierra’s surprise, Dara was sitting up in bed, reading by the light of a small lamp. She looked up in shock.
"Hey," Sierra murmured, looking unusually small as she stood in the doorway. "Can I sleep in here tonight?"
Dara didn't even hesitate. She shifted over, pulling the heavy blankets back to make room. "Yeah. Of course."
Sierra slid into the bed, placing her pillow next to Dara's. She waited until Dara turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness save for the faint moonlight filtering through the edges of the curtains.
As the house settled into a tense quiet, interrupted only by the occasional distant noise from outside, Sierra turned onto her side. She reached out, wrapping her arms around Dara, pulling her younger sister close. Dara immediately returned the embrace, her presence a grounding anchor in the middle of the nightmare.
Wrapped in the safety of her sister's arms, the heavy armor Sierra wore during the day finally slipped away. Her eyelids grew impossibly heavy, and despite the insomnia that usually kept her hostage, her mind drifted off, finally allowing her a few hours of deep, unbroken sleep.