barbarawrites presents... 

CONTAIN THESE DEMONS: Chapter Four  " REHEARSAL " 

Enjoy :P (I'm sorry) 

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"I'm going to Blackwood Mountain," Chris confidently straightened his back, "with you."

Bo stared at Chris with an awe-filled expression. For a moment, she wasn't sure if she could trust his change of heart. At Jessica's, he seemed all for the team. Now, he stands before her and claims he's on her side? She reluctantly scratched the thought. No, not on her side... on Josh's side. His best friend.

Finding the right words to express herself, she moved on, "How the hell did you even know I was going to Blackwood Mountain?"

"My dad works with the Park Rangers." How convenient, " He told me that Mr. Washington was headed there with a News team this Friday. I knew you'd instigated it all as soon as I heard."

"We don't have a spot for you. So no, you're not coming." She folded her arms across her chest, testing his faith in the mission. With a small smile, Chris looked back down at her and nodded toward Mr. and Mrs. Washington, watching the movie together and eating pizza.

"If you're right, and he's alive, then for the sake of a future that looks like that, with the two of you together, I'll do anything."

Bo couldn't peel her eyes away from Josh's parents, who have so graciously given her shelter without a second thought, who trusted her enough to enable her crazy ideas, as he continued to give her his speech,

"And I heard about what Mike saw in that cabin when it was just you and him. How you survived that explosion. There's something...supernatural about that mountain. If it's telling you all this, that you need to return, I trust it."

"So you finally understand how dire this is? I'm thankful," a small smile crept up to her face, but as soon as it appeared, it dropped, "but there's one more thing I need you to understand."

"Believe me, I'm all ears, Bowie." He leaned against the white marble kitchen counter.

"You need to know my intentions are not to leave until I find Josh."

"Okay, but my dad said the Rangers will only hold it down until Monday? So we do what we can until then."

"No." Bo shook her head firmly, giving him unwavering, intense eyes.

"No? Is there something I'm missing, or is this another stubborn Bo thing?"

"Chris, this is beyond just me being stubborn. Come Monday, do as you please. Take Mr. Washington home, and don't look back." Bo stared at him with a passionate glare.

"Tell me what's going on," Chris dropped his voice to a scolding whisper so the Washington's wouldn't be able to hear, "Drop the angst act and just fill me in."

Bo dropped her shoulders and sighed heavily, knowing he was right. She needed to be open and honest about everything. The heavy lump in her throat diminished.

"Okay," She reached across the counter for her notebook, sitting ominously. "There's more to it than just a little search party." She flipped through the pages to the closed-off section about her dreams for the past month. The terrifying and grotesque images that had somehow come to life on the pages of her book. She had learned during recovery about how journaling helped with healing, so she had done just that. However, it turned out to be more sinister than initially planned. "I've been...plagued with these vivid dreams, or as I think, memories."

"Okay," Chris whispered, taking the journal from Bo and beginning to see for himself. The drawings of mountains, hallways, vines, and, of course, the Wendigo.

The most concerning, a million visions of a million grotesque deaths. Bo's deaths.

"These dreams all lead me back to the mountain. In every dream, I die. And that aching feeling follows me into my day. There's a tie between the me in my dreams and me here. I'm terrified of what may happen if I don't go to this mountain and face whatever drains me."

At that moment, Chris recognized what he hadn't entirely cared for when he first walked through the door.

Bo's appearance was quite literally tortured. She had sickly pale skin, sunken eyes, lackluster irises, and dry lips. She was not, in any way, shape, or form, the image of someone who had recovered.

Chris didn't know what to say. He didn't want to invalidate her intuition but couldn't bring himself to frighten her anymore. She had been through enough.

"Okay, have you told the doctor about this?"

"Yes, but they gave me the treatment for insomnia. The one I came home from. It didn't work. So they told me I could've just needed to be home. But home is worse."

Chris took a deep breath and looked down at his friend, "So how do we face all this then?"

"Honestly, I have no idea. My mind fogs up now all the time. I just can't bring myself to solve these riddles anymore."

"So from what I understand now, we're not only trying to save Josh...but also you?"

Bo tightened her lips and slowly nodded her head. "That's what I'm afraid of."

With a laminated card in his hand, Chris turned the corner to where he knew he had seen in the corner of his eye. The incendiary rounds. He picked up the small container of 50 and held it to Bo's face. She widened her eyes at the proximity.

"Oh! What's that?" She gasped.

"Kaboomies," Chris smirked.

Bo looked up at him, confused.

"These burst into flames after they've been shot." His amused face fell. "Figured they'd be useful against the wen - the bears." He corrected himself with a heavy blink. He could not talk about those creatures in such a place as a small hunting pawn store.

Mr. Washington was away from earshot, sizing up the hunting gear from across a glass counter. He planned to take them around the city to grab supplies before meeting up with the reporters.

Chris turned the container around, wiping off the small layer of dust. The label was slightly faded. "Looks like these were made in the 70's. Should still be useful, though."

Just as he was about to open the casing, Mr. Washington rounded the corner with a broad smile.

"Look at this, Miss Bo!" In his hands was a laminated place card for a weapon. "It's a bow. I used to shoot these competitively in college and had a ton in the cabin for hunting Elk."

Bo and Chris both remembered seeing the various taxidermied animals that had been hung as decoration in the house. Mr. Washington was, in fact, a very skilled hunter.

"If you'd like, I could teach you how to use one for this trip. Of course, we would only use them if there was an emergency, so don't feel like you have to be perfect at it instantly." He continued, staring at the card intensely.

"Oh, alright then." Bo meekly agreed.

"Mr. Chris, what do you have there?"

"Oh, just some rounds I was looking at." Chris chuckled nervously and put them back down. He didn't want to stir any questions by his choices in ammunition.

"I meant for the card." Andrew laughed and pointed at the younger man's other hand.

"Double barrel shotgun?" Chris handed him the card hesitantly as if it could give away his paranoia.

"A shotgun!? Okay!" He laughed and gave the card back. "I see what you're packing with. Those have some serious recoil, you know?"

"Yes, sir, I've tried them out a little before."

"Wow, okay! It's got a cool design. I like what we're working with." Andrew smiled like a kid in a candy shop. "We might actually have to do a little leisure hunting together!" He caught Bo's look of fear out of instinct and quickly added, "After all this, of course, I mean." He cleared his throat. "Okay, let's go check all this out. Our licenses should be ready to go anyway."

Chris and Bo followed Andrew to the register, picking up their registration cards and paying for their supplies in just a few minutes. With bags full of whatever their hearts desired, they returned to Mr. Washington's truck to pack everything back up. With one heart filled with hope, one full of adventure, and one with dread, they set off for the mountain, with the reporting van running just a few miles behind them. 

Pulling up to Blackwood Mountain this time was different for Bo. The worst of her life was experienced there; she should have felt more... just more. But rather than the fear, anxiety, or adrenaline, all that was there was discontent.

She never wanted to drag Mr. Washington and Chris with her back to the place. Still, they both seemed adamant to come along, and Lord knows where she would have been if it hadn't been for Mr. Washington's help in bringing her plan to fruition. She owed them to make this series of events as smooth as possible. Bo would not argue. She would not play the hero. She would just find Josh.

He was all she needed. He was all she ever needed.

They waited for the reporters in silence. Harley Ghim and Topanga were to arrive with their fancy documentary-filming equipment, and then it was game time. Andrew, who did not understand the severity of the situation, attempted multiple times to start a conversation, but it always fell flat.

Andrew Washington did not know what awaited them in the forest, hiding between the tall stalks of pine trees. But Bo knew. Chris, as well. For them to act like walking into that place would be like a walk in the park was far from the right thing to do.

The sound of tires over gravel rustled the team to life as they made their final preparations. Chris counted the small arsenal that they had. Modest and very inconspicuous. Andrew spread mayo on the last sandwich, which he casually ziplocked and placed in the large igloo icebox. Bo read through the pages of her notebook, putting together another plan for if Plan "H" doesn't work out. With Good Morning Canada laminated to the sliding doors, the van came into view and put the young adults out of their misery.

"Miss Bo-Anne!" Harley greeted through a rolled-down window as he parked his vehicle. She regarded him with a forced smile and approached them with hands in her dusty pink jacket pocket. Trying to stay...calm and patient.

Patience was a virtue unless patience was the only thing keeping you from spending as much daylight as they could to set up camp, or rather a fortress.

The Good Morning Canada team exited their van with motivated expressions as they unpacked their equipment. They had a specialist with them, Kevin, who would remain in the truck and monitor footage via some spooky technological terms that Chris and Mr. Washington pretended to understand.

The reporters were very thorough in explaining safety procedures and protocols, as well as the expectations of the filming itself. Chris and Mr. Washington pretended to understand once more. Bo, however, made no effort to save anyone's feelings as she stared blankly into the tree line, her arms crossed over her chest.

What else could you do when you knew you were sending some of the most undeserving people to their possible deaths? Would even you be able to keep it together?

Bo tried her best to keep her head on Earth, but something inside her, at the sight of Blackwood, threatened to slip. To take her hand and drag her into the dirt of the forest. To surrender and become one with it all.

Another part of her fought every instinct to enter.

And another, more significant, part of her was sick. Both physically and mentally. It had taken her appetite, it had taken her willpower, it had taken her health. It would continue to take and take and take until there was nothing more for it. It was a hunger that Bo, alone, could not satisfy. She knew not a solution to keep the agonizing hunger at bay.

But the Mountain did.

She felt it calling to her the entire ski lift ride down to the forest, where they would find the Washington cabin.

Or rather, what was left of it.

The ski lift skirted to a halt, and like the charismatic, wealthy leader he was, Andrew took charge, opening the small hatch with a flourish, "Alright," He smiled back at Bo, trying to lift her spirits, and held out his hand towards her once his boots landed on the crunchy layer of frost that caked muddy ground. It was a strange season for the weather in Canada. He fluttered his fingers, beckoning Bo. She took his hand with another, less forced smile and let him lead her down the lift.

With his tiny but mighty video camera, Harvey shot footage of the interaction as they moved.

"Let's go, team, this way," Andrew Washington knew the woods like the back of his hand, leading them into the array of forestry.

"Over here," he pointed into a vast, endless sea of trees towards a clear path void of any life. Bo scanned the ground for a hint of footprints while Chris surveyed the trees, eyes wide like a madman's.

Bo felt a lump in her throat like none other. Her heartbeat thumped heavily in her chest as she adjusted herself to being back on the Mountain. The faint memories flashed in her subconscious, creating an atmosphere of panic.

Suppose it wasn't for the voice of someone behind her. In that case, she may have snapped from the quietness, "So, Bo-Anne," Topanga's annoyingly mono-toned voice suddenly grew empathetic as the camera rolled behind them, "tell me about what kind of emotions are running through your head as we walk along this familiar path for you if you don't mind."

The young lady scolded the question in her mind but reminded herself that she had signed up for this, "Well," she bit out, "certainly not feeling very welcome." She racked in her mind to describe her true feelings without freaking out the party, "It's not a walk in the park. To be back."

"Would you mind describing any of the anxiety you're feeling?" Topanga probed.

"Every footstep brings back that feeling that I'm going to die here." She finally admitted, "Maybe I won't come back this time."

At the sound of her comment, Chris turned his attention away from his surveillance and gave Bo a supportive nod, telling her it wouldn't happen. That he wouldn't let it happen.

"Would you say that's due to the trauma of what had occurred here?"

"It's due to what lurks in these shadows, hunts at night, and won't stop until dawn."

The whole crew seemed to stop in their place and turn around to stare Bo down in disbelief at the crazy statement.

Andrew Washington walked forward and placed his hands on her shoulders, standing behind her with a confident, matter-of-fact expression, "Blackwood Mountain is well known for its intense hunting game and sport. Bo is right; this is not a walk in the park. We must be careful to tread lightly on these grounds, with respect for the wildlife here that claim this land as their home."

From behind his view, Harley smiled at the smart save played by Mr. Washington as they continued on their journey.

Topanga turned on a new victim, "Chris, is it?"

"Yes," The young man half-heartedly responded as his shotgun rested at his hip.

"It is a treat to have you here with us," She charmed, "You are a survivor of Blackwood Forest as well?"

"I am."

"Walk us through what's going on in your head, if you will."

"I'm on edge, to be honest." He admitted, glancing at Bo, "And hopeful, all the same."

"What are you hoping for out of this trip?"

"I could ask you the same," He chuckled, "I'm hoping we can take back what was taken from us."

Bo's heart thumped in her chest, and not from the anxiety at that time, but from the meaning of his response. He was made for the camera. She looked back at Chris to find him staring into the woods again. She took a deep breath as she opened up her book, trying to block out any other noise coming from her head.

As Topanga chatted with Chris more, Bo made a few large lunges to meet Andrew's pace, whose head also seemed elsewhere, as he led the pack.

"Thank you, Mr. Washington," Bo broke the silence loud enough for him to hear.

Andrew's hard stare was wiped with a charismatic smile reminiscent of his son's, a trait passed down to him. He can keep his priorities in line, even when everything around them is out of check. Andrew's priority was to make Bo-Anne comfortable. To keep her safe.

She knew that just as much as he did.

"You are the most welcome, Bo-Anne."

"No, sir, I really, really mean it." She pushed the choke in her voice down, trying desperately to keep her emotions calm.

Andrew nodded his head, "I know,"

"I can't believe I'm here." She couldn't hide much anymore, "Or rather, that I'm here... with... everyone," She motioned towards the group behind her, "The support... is overwhelming. And yours, and Lauren's, means the most to me."

His smile encouraged her to keep speaking as the familiar trail passed on with every quiet crunch of their boots.

"I couldn't find it in my friends. In my own parents. They all... gave me that look. Like I'm a burden. But you guys have always had my back. Even when Mrs. Washington couldn't get my name right for a while."

They chuckled in remembrance.

"I just wanted you to know that. No matter what happens here or beyond that. You deserve good things. And," she took a deep, stabilizing breath, "I'm sorry. Really, really, sorry. Like, so extremely sorry-."

"Hey, hey," Andrew softened his voice, giving Bo a nudge to interrupt her spiral, "You have nothing to be sorry about. And if me saying that doesn't help, I hope this," he looked around the forest, "does. That you can find peace."

Peace. Bo thought. The sound of it was weight-lifting enough. But the guilt settled in once more.

Silence ensued as the remains of the cabin came into view.

Impending doom. That was all that Bo felt. Any other emotion, she was blind to. The steps she took onwards were brought forth with increasing effort. She really, really had to want to be there. If there was even the slightest hesitation, she was sure her body was betray her and do just that.

She kept her eyes on Andrew's back with heavy breaths, ultimately letting him lead.

Harley was quick to record her reaction to seeing the wreckage. She could feel the lens on her as they neared.

What remained of the Washington Cabin was the bare, wooden foundation of the extravagant floors and 3 feet of a few support beams here and there. The destroyed cabin, its contents, and structure, were littered around, piling deepest at its center.

The setting sun created an ominous glow amongst the sight as the light teased its turn to night, which only unsettled Bo even more.

They would need some form of shelter and fast.

"Well," Andrew sighed, "that's that." He managed as he stared at the lost property. Although she knew his heart ached for his son, she could tell the sight of his expensive get-away destroyed still hurt him. He slowly approached the wreckage, sifting through the litter with his boot. Bo watched as his body stiffened at seeing something on the ground. "Ah," He let out an amused breath, "I hoped I'd find something like this." He knelt down and picked up a clean photo frame.

Bo's bushy eyebrows furrowed in sympathy.

"The gang." He said under his breath. If any other conversation was had, it would've been inaudible. But all attention was given to the grieving father. His mansion. His kids. All that remained was before him.

Topanga took a careful step towards him, "May I see?" She asked as Harley crept behind her as well.

Mr. Washington adjusted his stance so Topanga could stand next to him. She flipped her dark hair away from her slender face to give her a clear view. Her eyes scrunched as she took in the picture Andrew had allowed her to see.

"This is your family before everything?" She asked, turning towards him so her tiny microphone, clipped to her shining silver jacket, could pick up his answer clearly.

"Yep. My wife and I. My two daughters. And my son."

Bo's chest lurched as she closed her tired eyes. Tired from their journey from the ski slope. Weary from her exhausted emotions.

"I never knew you had daughters if I'm being honest with you, Mr. Washington."

Andrew drew a deep breath and blinked away threatening tears, "They passed away over a year ago. On this Mountain."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Topanga sympathized without missing a beat, "This Mountain really... means a lot to you, doesn't it? In a way, you're also a survivor of this place. Do you agree?"

Andrew looked down at the woman as if he never thought of that before. As if she was speaking in another language. He withdrew into his own head, eyes heavy in thought. "Yes. I suppose I'm also a victim to the mystery of Blackwood Mountain." A tear slipped down his cheek, which he wiped with a gloved hand. He took another audible breath and shook off his feelings. "It's getting late. I'm unsure how much ground we'll cover with the sundown, so let's get on. Find us a nice spot to camp out? We've got a guest cabin here close by. A couple random shacks. Or we can sleep under the star-"

"A shack would be nice." Chris interrupted smoothly, "The guest cabin would be better if it's in good condition."

Without a second thought, Andrew threw the group another grin, "Alrighty, onwards we go."

Topanga followed Andrew close while Harley stuck even closer. Chris stood awkwardly at Andrew's side.

However, Bo couldn't get herself to move away from the wreckage. In fact, something drew her closer to the center, where the rubble collected heaviest. A glare of familiarity caught her eye as wood clashed with more wood supernaturally.

She brushed debris away to reveal a perfectly untouched, sheltered fox carving sitting peacefully on the floorboards. The air escaped her lungs with a gasp as she stared at the omen she knew all too well. She fearfully took the carving in her grasp with shaking fingers, expecting herself to be whisked away to a horrifying vision.

Instead, the world around her remained calm. The wind did not howl. The sky did not darken. She stood in the center of what was left of the Washington Estate, and all was fine. She was fine even when she turned around and faced a transparent being, wild in appearance, strange in nature, and absolutely supernatural.

She did not gasp. She was not afraid. She stared back at the tall, mystical creature with a thin, wavering frame that blew into the wind. The figure was clothed with a colorless, textureless, shapeless cloth that seemed to take the form of every item of clothing in existence. The face was featureless and yet took the form of every creature that ever drew breath.

It was a beautiful sight. And it was the first time Bo had ever felt tranquility in months. The figure and herself seemed to be in a staring battle, unable to take eyes off each other, studying the aura emanating from them both.

After a moment, the figure reached out, touching the fox in Bo's hands. As soon as they made contact, the creature was gone, as if it had never appeared. And the deep feeling in Bo's gut returned, bringing her back to Earth.

Chris's voice called out, breaking her from her trance as she returned to her travel companions. 

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Well. My bad. But hey, I didn't lie. I did say "See you again next year" and it is definitely the next year... 

If you're still here, and you've been since the beginning, it's soooo good to see you again. 

I heard Until Dawn is getting a movie... pretty sick! I really hope this gives the fandom the revival it needs! Ive missed yall! :((((

Anyways, I'll catch you all when I... if I... ever do! Thank you all for your support for both me and for Bo-Anne. She needs it. Her story will be told, if it takes me decades to do so. 

I hope life treats you all kindly. :)))