I find it devastatingly challenging to ignore the noise of a persistent crackling, with each step I take further into my soon possible demise.

The tranquillizing endearment of melancholy and wisdom, became all the more stagnant once my foot landed into another mud hole. My bunny slippers became entrapped by soggy sticks and leaves, and I couldn't do a damned thing about it. My lips were chafed and quivering ever so slightly. My body was purely angst and tempered by my surroundings. I felt teased, and morbidly curious. I decided to walk only in a straight line, navigating throughout unknown territory, every decision I made had to be the right one... or for surely I was lost.

My heart was not the only thing dampening once soft tears became blistering down my cold wet cheeks. A myopic sob escaped the moistness between my lips, once discharge slid down the length of my nose. The freezing weather was far too splintering to the fingertips, to the point each time I blinked, it stung. To make matters much more worse is the knowing fact that night fell beneath the clouds which hung low and gloomy in the sky.

I was growing nervously tender as anticipation drowned me, in the discomfort of sunken vices. The woody creaks and crevices of the world felt stained, my pride along with it too.

With bones filled with marrow and naked edges felt to be rubbed raw, a tightening knot made its way into my lower belly. Once I realized I had been walking in circles did I accept my fate, of an ending that I always paired boldly with a terminal illness and drenched sweaters filled with a sweater also covered in cat piss. This newer ending was

Conniving.

Alone.

In the cold.

For surely I could feel the ravishing hypothermia coming on, I could feel it nippling at my breast, rocking the buds with winter's kiss.

But that wasn't all.

Before I came any closer to a timberland clearing, I crossed over  a frozen creek. I began to hear more strange noises. Noises far more startling and unusual than before. I soon heard a particular sound I didn't expect could exist in a town like Bellingham. Upon stopping dead in my foot steps, I froze for a different reason. My hands frantically shook by my side, and with each fleeting breath did I see clouds of smoke.

My lungs were hallow. My skin was jesting. My inner thighs were clattering together, similar to how silver cutlery would. This moment couldn't be any more swell, especially when the realization hit me that...

There were wolves.

I started to turn back around but got caught in my footing arrangement, causing me to fall and hit my knee.  The sound of something being sliced in my ear echoed. It could've been steel  cutting the air before it completes its purpose of splitting.. maybe a tree?

I see a light ahead of me, nearing the cabin I spotted. I pull branches apart, swearing underneath my breath.

I push myself forward through the branches, it's so cold I can see the rasp oxygen leave my mouth. Releasing a sigh, I make the turn around the cabin jaggedly with my hands cramming themselves into my pockets. I notice the brown warehouse boots first. Gliding my eyes across the figure, they swing an axe above their head before it goes down— sharply into a piece of wood.

Biting my lip, the black hair of this male figure is tucked behind his ears. The skin of his neck evidently red as the winter air nipped at their exposed dried skin. As the male turns his hips to take another strike, he poses as if he was swinging a baseball bat. I notice his waist peeking out from underneath his solid black tee shirt. By this time my fist are clenching in weary and study. His abdomen was ripped as his shirt rises above his swing. More than focused, his eyebrows are furrowed, I could tell that this male was concentrating. I peek over my shoulder behind me, hearing the howls grow louder than anything I could have possibly heard before.

I never should've left that diner.

I decide to turn back against the invasive moment, but he must've heard the leaves and twigs snapping underneath my slippers, because as soon as I begin my sneaky departure, the male flinches before turning immediately in my direction.

I shiver coldly.

I could say I recognized him solely off of his body type but I'd be lying. It's only a reclusive explanation for why I keep running into the same people. Maybe this town is smaller than I thought. I probably looked a mess, as his eyes pierced into me shallowly. This male is frowning at me and before I knew it, his axe came crashing down into another piece of wood. He takes small steps toward me, as I grimace at his new approach.

I try for a smile, but with every feature on his face from his Greek nose, to his thick eyebrows, he was far from smiling back.

"What are you doing out here?" The question is clean cut and simple. When I don't speak he continues, he takes a long lasting look at my face, to my outfit, then back at my face again. His jaw ticks before he turns his head questioningly.

"This couldn't be any more inconvenient."

It is Marx, the baseball player that I met at the diner my first night in this town. He mutters a few words to himself. My usual simmering attitude couldn't be more adjusted, as he grabs my hand abruptly— taking it into his fist. Suddenly everything started to move so quickly.

"I am lost." I whispered, half dejectedly.

"Oh you're lost alright. This isn't even your side of town." His voice is rather deep, any heavily sounding voice automatically reminded me of whiskey and my father. It reminded me of the whiskey because that's what he drank upon our first time meeting. It reminded me of my father because he would always catch me in the act of doing something bad, then give me a good scolding.

I should've asked Marx how'd he know this wasn't the side of town I resided on. Marx shakes his head, loosening the collar of his jacket. He shoves his phone in his pocket, swinging my hand along with his, before Marx pulled me behind him.

As a baseball player he pretty much fit the description. Tall, lean muscular build. Bright skin with red undertones. Marx is rather tall than most highschool athletes I've seen before, but I also digress.

"where are you taking me?" I ask.

At least he's a familiar face, I thought.

Marx rounds the cabin, more howling is resonating through the wind as he does this. I leap closer behind him as I once remembered I'm still in the middle of the woods, and he just so happens to live out here.

"I shouldn't be doing this, but I'm taking you inside to get you warm." Marx states matter of factly. I contemplated briefly on why he shouldn't be doing this, instead he could be taking me home. Why isn't that an option? Out of the norm usually, but is human decency not a thing anymore?

Marx opens the door leading me into the cabin. "Don't you have a truck?" I asked. I'm just stereotyping him as I go along, most athletes drive trucks. He looks like he's the type to sit high in his truck and drink Pepsi.

Marx closes the door softly behind himself, the warmth of the cabin knitting around me like a sweater, I'm grateful yet confused at the same time. The tall and buff man, moves around me. Instantly he's pulling his Jean jacket off his shoulders and hands it out to me. Questionably to his dismal, I don't take it.

At my refusal of his jacket, he frowns deeper. I peer up at him from sitting on the couch. To my avail, he began forcing the jacket over my own shoulders. He chooses to stand smug while a frown disperses across my own lips, my fists are shaken daintily at my sides.

"Look, I don't know you that well. I don't know you at all." The green eyes of this male is hindering and swimming with something I can't decipher. I scoff like a child, the jacket is extremely large on my body but it provided more heat than what I really needed. I was comfortable however and that was all that mattered.

I didn't know how to respond to what he said so I cross one leg over the other awkwardly, he leaves the room once it falls silent.

Marx comes back from what I assume to be the kitchen, He has  two cups in each hand. "If you don't want me then why'd you let me in?" I accept the cup hesitatingly, and swoosh around its content. As expected, it's of course hot chocolate with two plush little marsh mellows.

Marx plops two marsh mellows inside his own cup. He smells its hot chocolatey aroma before pressing it between his lips. I watch him in this action, before copying him.

He doesn't answer right away, so I continue to go for conversation.

"I'm new around here." I say in replace of my previous sentence. His statement was true before, we didn't know each other not even in the slightest. And yet, I wanted to study him. I haven't been in town long, but it's not like he's a total stranger right?

Or maybe he is.

"I can tell." Is all he mumbles.

Marx checks his phone, before he stands up once again. He opens the door, looking outside as if he's searching for something beyond the tree lines. He sucks his teeth.

"Riddle me this, why are you outside my cabin at this time of night.." The brunette quizzes me, I shrunk down into the cushion of the sofa. What an awkward turn of events. "Don't you know there are wolves outside? You aren't safe here." Marx continues, closing the door again.

Marx scoffs quietly, "Your cousin could've did you a service and told you that."

I steal the time to glance at a few of his baseball trophies which decorated the walls of his home. He probably lives alone. No way this guy is worried about letting a stranger into his home, after doing it so. I can understand the worry but come on, what can a 5 foot 1 girl do to his 6'4 self. His size compared to mine, I'm not even half of his weight.

"You don't say..." I deadpan, "About the wolves. Never would've guessed that's what those noises were." Marx takes a seat across from me. He's gauging my reaction with his eyes turned into slits.

"I'm going to call someone to take you home, you're probably wondering why I haven't done that already." Marx shrugs.

"It's like you read my mind." I say.

Suddenly Marx's phone starts ringing, he exchanges words with who called him before he hangs up shortly after— before turning to me again. Marx shoves his hands in his pockets.

"My guy should be here to get you any second now. Someone you might know." Marx pulls the Jean jacket he gave me closer to cover my mouth, noticing how red and chipped my lips were. "Titus."

"I know Titus," I can't help but sigh as the image of the green eyed, card game fanatic, came up in my mind. "Not that well, but I know him." I confirm. Marx looks at me kinda suspiciously before nodding. "I know you know him. That's why he's on his way over here to collect you."

Marx shuffles around on his feet, he takes his cup once he's done with the drink and after a few minutes he returns back into the living room without it.

He starts to take his belt off, then he undoes the button of his jean bottoms. Marx begins to tug them off, which I found rather inappropriate so I start gawking and shielding my eyes. "Calm down, I have under sweats. It's a lot hotter in here than it is cold out there." He lets out a hearty chuckle.

"You could've at least warned me first." I suck my teeth at the guy. My cheeks inflamed at what I thought I could've seen, had I not covered my eyes.

Marx sighs.

I remove my hands to see he's down in his black tee shirt still with grey sweatpants adorning his lower half, the shirt is still to short so a small portion of his stomach is revealed to me. I can make out the v line leading into his waist band. He's the last person I would expect to live in the middle of nothingness, by himself, at that. Apart from his residency though he couldn't be any more stereotypical.

He has a whine cabinet with probably ancient taste, that's probably also out of his league since athletes aren't suppose to drink. I could tell he was a drunk or maybe capable of being one, based off my first impression of him at the diner.

Marx seemed so silly, but in this moment right now, I couldn't picture him any more serious.

"Well take this as my very first warning to you," Marx points an accusing finger at me as I cock a single eyebrow. "Never run off alone again, you just can't seem to stay yourself out of trouble," I search his expression to see if he gave any thing away.

That line was a punch to the gut, as it reminded me of that silver eyed guy. Who id naturally decided was the epitome of trouble, and as if he read my mind —what Marx says next has me rolling my eyes heatedly, filling with irritation.

"First your fall into the pool at that party and now you've managed to free yourself into these wolves infested woods." Marx shakes his head, he then licks his lips as if in disbelief himself. I shrug cooly, undermining the truth of his statement. "Blaine is it? Don't prove yourself dumb and end up back here again."

"In these woods I mean." Marx takes the half filled cup from my hand and places it on his coffee table.

I try at changing the subject. "I'm surprised you remembered my name. Marx."

A smile teased at Marx's lips but he quickly reinforces another frown.

"Of course I know your name. Everyone knows it. You're the girl he saved. He doesn't preform heroic acts like that. That's not in his nature." I know he's talking about the man I unknowingly yet knowingly named Silver. I notice everyone keeps reminding me of that, like Robin, it's like that can't seem to fathom why he did what he did. It's all very simple really, I nearly drowned. Silver only pulled me out of those waters. Everybody is making it seem like he'd done such a courageous thing.

He did do a courageous thing. He potentially saved my life from the deep end of a pool.

"He'd done a good deed. Why can't people just leave it at that instead of going on about how out of the norm that was for someone like him." I arise to my feet, defendant of Silver but mostly for myself. I assume those events is what's tied to my name. That's probably what they talk about around school anyway. I can't see how someone of Marx's status could be entangled in such gossip.

It's a bold assumption I know, since I don't quite know the guy. However, I won't write him off so easily.

"A good deed it was," Marx admits. "It was more than a deed for him though. Trust me. No one is going to forget it."Marx began to grab my hand, and before I could ask anymore questions. A sleek black mustang pulls up in the front yard of the cabin. The howling sound is long gone, my fear along with it.

"Titus is here. Go ahead with him."