I ran my fingers against the old, dusty shelves and made a mental note to clean the place up. It'd been a while since I last dusted every single nook and cranny - perhaps it was overdue a good deep clean, if only to get some cobwebs out.

The arms of the thick leather chair felt like a comforting hug as my back compressed into a childish slouch and I slumped forward, my head against the desk. I was so, so tired. Emotionally, physically. All the ways I could be tired.

Over the past three years, I'd carved out a minor success for myself and my tiny antiques store. Sure, it got grubby sometimes, but with each passing month, more and more people rummaged through my stock to find a trinket or a just-so-hard-to-track-down book. Things people couldn't just pull out of a Barnes and Noble or find randomly on Amazon were a draw to the tourists that wound up in the small town of Ravenswood for their summer vacations, and the pride I felt from having such an outstanding collection? It was like nothing else.

Ravenswood hid away in almost the middle of nowhere with a rich, varied history that kept the tourists coming. It helped that beautiful lakes and lush forests bordered us for miles. The real attraction, though, was the suffering. Maybe that was why I ended up in Ravenswood, too - there was a sinister beauty in the long, sordid history of the place I called home, a beauty that I could scarcely ignore.

Thin strands of my hair fell forward into my face as I shook my head in an act of defiance to the drowsiness that'd kicked in. All I wanted was my bed, to cuddle up in the warm, thick sheets, to pass out to the sound of rain beating against the bedroom window - my idea of heaven. The harsh summer had given way to fall, bringing with it an inevitable stretch of rain in Ravenswood - at least three months, and likely even longer, depending on the severity of the cold. The trees that lined the streets and cocooned the town had already changed, burned orange under the heavy weight of another year done.

Thud.

"Fucking raccoons."

Scrape.

I sighed as I stood up and stretched out my spinal column and shook my fingers, mentally preparing myself to have to shoo the little bastards away. Racoons were cute, and I so badly wished I could have one of my own as a pet to add a bit of character to the place, but I knew my landlord would have my head if I even thought about feeding them - they were cute, but they were exceptional at wreaking havoc. Pests that keep coming back, she called them. Vermin. The noise subsided, and I rolled my eyes - they must've heard me get ready to go out to them.

It'd been a long, tiring day. The end of tourist season was always busy with swathes of people coming in to buy things last minute, and I enjoyed giving them a slice of Ravenswood history for their cash - it didn't hurt that they'd always leave with something nice to say about the place - but it drained me having to deal with so many people. Solitude and isolation were the two pillars that held up my sanity. For most of the year, Ravenswood felt almost entirely devoid of life, with each street quiet aside from the occasional drunk - but the second summer rolled around, things changed. And with each passing year, it felt like more and more people were trying to understand the history of the town, trying to claim it for their own.

The store looked tidy enough; I decided - and I wasn't opening til later in the afternoon the day after - so I called it. My bed sang to me, and I was too weak to resist. My keys jangled as I picked them up and shoved them into my old, mustard-yellow jacket, and then I slid my phone into my jeans pocket.

Front door locked, check.

Shutter down, check.

All inventory accounted for, check.

The only thing left to do was to go home for the night. I swung my beaten up rucksack over my shoulder and headed towards the back room. To customers, it was the 'staff room', but the only other member of staff was Joanne - a woman I called in a handful of times a month - but to me, it was where I kept surplus stock, my private little sanctuary away from the prying eyes of unruly customers demanding I materialize items I don't have out of thin air. Most customers weren't like that, but some of them? Man, they just loved causing a scene.

Looking around, I made sure that everything was where it needed to be for a smooth start in the morning. As I flicked the light switch on the smooth white wall, my eyes adjusted to the darkness, my fingers helping me navigate my way straight to the back door.

Bang.

"Go on now, little critters, you know better than to go eating through my junk," I called out. The noise stopped for a moment and then carried on as a quiet shuffling. A small smile took over my face as I pressed my left hand against the dark wood of the door and inserted my key into the lock. "Go on, get away."

I pulled the door open and froze in my tracks. What greeted me wasn't a small group of raccoons, eager to find some leftovers in my dumpster, in front of me stood a man, covered in scrapes, cuts. What the fuck.

"I'm sorry," he said. I shook my head and looked him over. He towered over me with a lithe frame and looked, aside from the cuts, remarkably tidy. Where I lived before, I would've slammed the door right back in his face, frightened for my life. But I was in Ravenswood - the place where people looked after one another.

"What the hell happened to you?" I kicked the door back open, keeping it ajar with my foot as I frantically searched for the light with my free hand. He looked down and coughed, pressing his body against the back wall of the alley.

"I'm sorry," he repeated in that same pained voice. "Can I come in? Just for a moment?"

I nodded with hesitation as I flicked the light switch. In the light, he looked even worse - his eyes dark and heavy, his neck bruised as though he'd been in a fight. Ravenswood was a safe place - I had (almost) no qualms about inviting someone in when they needed it, but there was a coldness to him that set me on edge. I pushed down my anxious thoughts and took a step to the side, making way for him to come past.

"Come in, come in." I ushered him into the back room, and he nearly fell as he entered, coughing heavily. "I hate to ask again, but... what on earth happened to you?"

Biting down on the inside of his lower lip, he grimaced, and I dragged him over to the chair in the corner, a chair that'd provided me comfort on many lunch hours when I wanted to hide away from the world.

"I got into a fight." He looked up at me with just the faintest hint of confusion written across his face. "Can I have a glass of water?"

A glass of water? I'd have asked for a shot of vodka and some pain killers given how hurt he seemed, but still I nodded and took myself over to the small sink. I poured him a glass of water and as I returned to him, his face already seemed slightly brighter, his eyes less dark. He was tall, at least to a shortie like me - probably around six foot exactly, if I had to guess - and slender, with broad shoulders and a sculpted face, almost resembling the old-timey actors on television.

"A fight with who?"

He waved me off. "It doesn't matter." The mystery man stared down at the floor and pouted.
People didn't get into fights in Ravenswood, I thought to myself. People here were calm and collected - everyone knew everyone, but I didn't know him. I tilted my head and squatted opposite him, leaning my hands forward onto my rucksack that I'd discarded on the floor when I went to get him a glass of water.

"Are you alright?"

He nodded and sighed softly. "I'm sorr-"

"If you're about to tell me you're sorry again, you can just be quiet. I don't think you have anything that you need to apologize for." As I finished speaking, I realized just how sharp I'd sounded. Eugh. What I didn't need was an angry, strange man locked in my store with me.
A small smile illuminated his face, which immediately relieved my concerns about my tone. "Thank you, then. Thank you for letting me rest here for a minute. I'm afraid your store was the only one that I could see was open. Well, not open, but someone was in."

I smiled back at him. He could've gone to the bar nearby - they would've let him in in a heartbeat. My old store was slightly off the main road, and the only way he could've gotten to the back door was to have gone looking for it. My only explanation was that he'd been trying to get away from whoever, or whatever, had attacked him.

"You're not from around here, are you? We don't mind taking care of strangers, especially if they need some help."

He lowered his head. "And I appreciate that. No, I'm not from around here - I just bought a house nearby but the sale only just went through this afternoon. I couldn't get here any earlier today."
A small laugh escaped me as I thought about the fact that his first act as a resident of Ravenswood was to get into a fistfight. It could've been worse, I thought. He could've gotten himself into some real trouble. "Well, the first thing you do when you move to a quiet little town in the middle of nowhere is to get into a fight, right? What an entrance."

He held a hand to his jaw and looked upwards, stretching out his upper body. "He wasn't local. Had a Chicago bumper sticker. I think he was just heading home based on all the bags he had with him. I heard Ravenswood gets a lot of tourism, too, so... that explains that." The tone of his voice had shifted from pained to slightly more friendly and open, and his posture relaxed just a touch.

"Oh, good, I was worried for a minute there that you'd tried to bash in my landlord's head, or someone just as important." I laughed at him and stood back up, clicking my heels against the old tile. "Can I get you anything else? Some aspirin maybe? I think I have a stash just out there in the main room."

He shuffled in his chair and sat upright slowly, obviously pained by the movement. "Yes, please, that'd be wonderful."

I turned tail and made my way into the main area of the store and rummaged through the small emergency kit I stored underneath the desk. It was important to make sure we had everything for an emergency - everything from small scissors to bandages to gauze, but the only thing we'd actually ever used was a tampon. Go figure.

As I finally found the bottle of painkillers, I turned to see him stood a few feet ahead of me, looking closely at a small figurine on the middle shelf. As I saw him, I jumped, not having expected him to have moved so quickly, nor so quietly.

"Hey, uh-"

He turned to face me with a soft, uneasy smile. "You sell antiques in here, too?"

I nodded. "I do." There was that fear again. The fear that something terrible was about to happen. Many scenarios ran through my head as I imagined him robbing me blind. A strange man that'd shown up at my store in the middle of the night, way past closing and covered in bruises - and there he was, staring down some antiques I stocked. I tried to push past the anxiety with a smile. 'Ravenswood folks take care of their own' echoed in the back of my mind. "I found you some painkillers, here."

"My name's Emil, by the way," he said. "I realize now that I've come into your space without telling you who I even am." Emil sighed, and I felt slightly better that I at least knew his name. He flashed a kind grin my way before clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth, followed with a sigh. "Thank you. For being so kind, I mean."

I couldn't place his accent at all. In the brighter, more even light, I could see his features a little better than before. The bright, almost garish overhead lights cast shadows underneath his high, straight cheekbones, highlighting his pale skin and dark stubble that contrasted against the softness of his other features.

"We should get you cleaned up before you go, too. Do you have somewhere to stay? You said you just bought a place, but do you have-"

He cut me off abruptly. "I'm fine for a place to stay, thank you." He grabbed the painkillers from my hand and knocked two of them into his mouth as he moved into the back room to get the glass of water. He winced as he sat back down, and then swallowed both pills in one go.

"Are you sure?"

Emil scowled and waved a hand in the air to brush off the question. If it was because he didn't want me to feel put out, he had nothing to worry about - I didn't mind helping anyone; I didn't even care if he wanted to crash at my house for an evening, or at least I was trying not to care. I leaned against the wall beside him and pushed my ice-white hair behind my ear. As I glanced down at a strand, I made a mental note that I needed to tone it again - white was a bitch to maintain, especially with the local water. My hair seemed to turn brassy every other time I showered.

"Absolutely certain."

"It's no trouble. If you're worried about being a burden, well, it's not the end of the world to stay late. I usually end up spending too many hours here well after closing, anyway. You really should call the sheriff," I said. At the mere mention of the sheriff, he looked up at me with a frown. "Or not."

"It's not that I don't want to, it's that I don't think there's anything he can do. I'm fine, truly."
"You don't look it." As I looked over at him, he did seem better. Much better. The large cut on his cheek didn't seem so deep anymore, and he was more animated than he'd first appeared. "You wanna go get cleaned up in the bathroom?"

Emil waved me off and shook his head. "No, I'll get going. A shower is what I need, not a quick do over," he laughed. He had a deep, soft laugh that was soothing to my ears. "How long have you lived here?"

"A good few years now. I'd always wanted to come back to a small town, and Ravenswood was the one that spoke to me." I leaned my weight on one side of my body and looked up. "It's nice here. You'll like it."

We sat there in silence for what felt like an uncomfortable eternity. Although he'd given me no reason to suspect him of anything, I was slightly on edge around Emil. He'd been more worried about being an inconvenience than anything else, but the coldness about him I'd first felt in the alleyway pervaded the room. It was oppressive.

He coughed before he stood up and held out a hand towards me. "Thank you for letting me come in. Honestly, I know a strange man shows up in your alley covered in blood... it must not be very safe, especially for a woman."

"Eh," I moaned. "This is Ravenswood. Safe, secure, and everyone knows everyone. That's why I moved here." I took his hand in mine, giving it a firm shake. Emil rolled his shoulders, letting the neckline of his tee roll downwards slightly, exposing the bruising that I'd seen earlier. It was still dark purple with splotches of red and a small bit of yellowing, but it looked better. Everything about him was already looking better. It was a miracle what some painkillers and a glass of water could do.

"It's not the best introduction to the town, but it's far from the worst," he smirked. "I'll be going now - but thank you, again." He turned and leaned against the wall for a second, looking back at me for one last glance, before leaving unceremoniously.

How odd it was, I thought, that he turned up looking like he was on death's door, and left absolutely fine. I rolled my eyes, picked up my rucksack, and left, half expecting to still see him walking down the alley. But he was gone, completely. No trace that he'd ever even been there at all.