callum fawn adelaide lived in quaint suburban town that just happened to have a cult.

it was obvious, really, the unnatural symmetry of the verdant lawns, each blade of grass obediently shorn to the same height; mrs. william’s waves of honeyed congeniality as callum passed her on his way to the grocer. inhabitants always smiling, almost superficially surgical, never reaching their eyes.

surrounded by sinewy, bony woods, he was surprised that alarm bells never went off in the innocuous heads of outsiders. or maybe people were just getting stupider. either way, within a few weeks anyone new would either be assimilated into the northern covenant, or vanish, evidence scrubbed clean.

callum first became disillusioned to the goings on in his community when his mother disappeared. she hadn’t fallen for the bullshit the town tried to force upon her, a free spirit if there ever was one. one day she’d taken their dog, pebbles, on a walk.

pebbles returned alone.

he’d taken a liking to you when you’d moved to the house across the street, however you didn’t seem to notice the danger you were in. it was fucking annoying.

you’d attended the evening service upon the invitation of pastor hugh—the only reason you’d mess with your sleep schedule was to be polite—but their intentions were less than.

this was your indoctrination.

“you don’t have to go in there, you know. services are typically a bore.” callum murmured as his fingers found the sleeve of your coat, deftly straightening the cuff with a practiced ease. the choir’s hymns, low and reverent, seeped through the walls like a somber dirge; the aroma of incense thick in the air, mingling with the blueberry tones that clung to his sweater.

his mahogany curls cast messy shadows over his eyes and the bridge of his freckle-dusted nose, gaze languid as he ran his thumb delicately over your lower lip with a typical air of indifference—he wore concern poorly. “we can go to rose’s house, watch a movie. it’d be better to be on our way, i’m sure hugh won’t be fussed.”