Follow You into the Dark

I can’t find my way back home Since I fell down this rabbit hole I see their patterns in my mind Anxious designs of the darkest kind And piece together the cruelest clue To paint a portrait to capture you **** Somewhere Strange The tree branches reach out like witches arms trying to grab him as he tries to retrace his steps – tennis shoes barely staying together as they crunch over mounds of fallen leaves.

Nathan can see the sun setting to the west through the trees in front of him. He also sees a puff of white breath in front of his face, the air around him sizzling with the kind of natural electricity that you can only feel during fall in the Midwest.

Where am I?

He grabbed at the shoulders of his fraying leather jacket… his fingers massaging the patches on the elbows that wore away years ago at the hands of whomever owned the jacket before his mother found it at Goodwill.

A shiver.

A voice.

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaathan

“Mom!?”

Nathan’s voice is quickly absorbed by the wooden thicket as he turns to look, finding only trees in every direction.

Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaathan

The voice sounded so close, but he couldn’t see anyone. Was it someone from town? Mr. Ramsey!? Ms. Braun!?!

“I’m here! It’s Nathan!”

I knoooooooooooooooww

Nathan’s body freezes… his breathing shallow and tight. He strains his eyes through the trees as the light slowly drains from the sky.

Can’t say here. Gotta run.

*Crack*

The sound shoots through Nathan’ ears like a screeching arrow as he turns on his heels and begins to run as fast as his 15-year-old legs will carry him, tears beginning to stream from his eyes and freezing on impact with the air whose temperature somehow continues to drop… and drop…

His legs feel like they could snap at the bone at any moment, but he continues to push his way through the brush, hoping against hope he’s headed toward humanity. Society. All he can think about, at that moment, is finishing a bowl of his mom’s tomato soup…

The feeling gives him just enough warmth to keep going - but only for so long.

Nathan hits a root with his right foot, yanking him down to the frozen dirt ground.

“Shit…”

Hehehheheh

The voice… it’s back. Wait….

It never left.

HeheheH̸̷̨̨̢̪̟̳͔̤̦ͯ̄_̵̲͎̐̽͂͊̽̐̍̕͞ę̷͉͇͉̫̭̟͇̪̫̞̠̭̒̄̿͐́ͫ̌́͐ͫ͞͞ḩ̸̷̢̛̫̫̯̭̱͓͈̺̞̜̰̩ͪͬ̆̆̑ͬ̌͊͋̔̈̕̚̚͟͝ͅè̴̥̼̫͎ͥ̈́̃̕͡͝͝h̸̷̶̛̬̳̤̯̮̰̬̠̗̥̜̫̣ͥ͌̃̄̾͋̎̏̈́ͧ̇̆̇̀ͥ̂̔̒̕͜͡͠eh̴͓̰̉͟_̨̝̤̬͓̻̝̆́ͮͮͨ̎̆̏͠e̶̵̹̖̬̬̊̉̓͜͡͞

Nathan rolls over onto his back, pushing himself up on the elbows of his worn and tattered jacket, ready to run once more.

But all this time Nathan had been looking… had never thought to look up.

And that’s when he sees.

That’s when he screams.

And doesn’t stop.

📼📼📼

Somewhere Familiar Blaze Claymore looks at the numbers in front of him like they were an alien text.

501

His eyes drift from the white, plastic figures—numbers that should mean home but feel foreign as hieroglyphs—over to a porch swing that moves with the lazy rhythm of late summer, its chains creaking like a knowing laugh.

“You gonna knock on the door or just eye fuck it?”

Sonja’s voice jarred him back, he looks over at her - this woman. The one he had been trying to save. Now it’s him that needs the saving.

“Ugh”

She pushes past him and raps loudly on the door and, second later, "a familiar face appears behind wire-rimmed glasses, crow's feet deepening with shock before softening into the kind of worried smile that only mothers have.

“Oh good God. Nath-”

“I mean Bla-”

“It’s OK. Mom.”

Amy’s shoulders drop, as if she had just dropped a 100-pound weight off of them. She reaches up to hold Nathan’s hands in her face but he instinctively grabs both of her wrists and pulls them down. She is wearing that silly apron he got her for Christmas the year before he left for Hollywood… one that has a cartoon drawing of a woman in a chef’s hat holding up a freshly-cooked bowl of pasta but with sauce poured all over the rest of her clothes.

She always wore it when she was expecting company.

Did she…

Blaze doesn’t finish the thought - instead, his mother reaches in for a hug and grabs him into her arms tightly.

“Oh honey, I was so worried. What happened to you? What did that Max person mean when he said-”

Amy shakes her head and flashes a smile before turning toward Sonja, and extending her hand warmly. Sonja smiles back and pulls the older woman in for a hug, a surprise but a welcome one for the Lake matriarch.

“Nevermind all that… You must be Sonja. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Sonja bows slightly and puts her arm around Blaze’s waist.

“And I’ve heard so much about you, Ms. Lake… I am so sorry I haven’t been by to visit yet.”

Amy laughs as she playfully slaps Blaze on the shoulder.

“I blame this one for that. I was just telling him the last time he was here that-”

“Mom. Can we come in?”

Amy’s face turns from boastful to bashful as she ushers the pair inside.

The scent of home strikes Blaze with unexpected intensity—coffee that's been brewing since morning, lavender that his mother tucks into closets and drawers, and underneath it all, something warm and indefinable that exists nowhere else in his experience, something that makes his chest feel both tight and loose at the same time.

“I made your favorite. Tomato soup.”

A pit forms in Blaze’s stomach, acid creeping up his digestive tract, as he braces himself against the wall and he looks up toward the ceiling, expecting a horrific, nameless void… but only sees the familiar, peeling paint that had been there for all 19 years of his life in this house. He looks from left to right and sighs with relief as he sees all of the blinds are open - sunlight filling the room with a magical brightness.

Behind him, Sonja adjusts her purse strap and slithers into the gap between Blaze and his mother, her gaze moves thoughtfully around the room, taking in family photographs and small decorations with the kind of genuine interest that fills him with a sense of warmth, but also a sacrine, bittersweetness.

“When did you two get in? I thought you were supposed to be in Miami? Or was it Orlando? I can never keep Nathan’s schedule straight.”

Sonja looks over at Blaze with what he can only describe as admiration for his mother’s astuteness.

“Miami. Ms. Lake… but since Nathan wasn’t scheduled for a match we thought our time would be much better spent with family. You know, after everything…”

Blaze’s mother looks up, a furrowed brow showing her concern.

“Yes. Of course… mi casa es su casa.”

Amy covers her mouth and looks away, ashamed.

“I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have- I’m trying to be more culturally sensitive.”

Sonja produces the kind of laugh that sounds spontaneous until you notice how perfectly it calibrates warmth without vulnerability, her hand waving with practiced self-deprecation that invites closeness while maintaining subtle authority. The laugh of someone taking control.

The laugh of a fighter. A survivor. Whatever it may take.

“If that’s the most racist thing I experience in this town, then I'm dying to come back for Cinco de Mayo.”

Sonja reaches over and pulls Blaze out of the corner, yanking him until they are both standing in front of his mother. Sonja wraps her arm around his and looks up at Amy… but also not at Amy. Blaze sees Sonja looking at a newspaper article his mother has framed up on the wall… from his talent show.

“I am so glad my Nathan has you in to be there for him, Sonja. He’s… he’s always struggled with letting people see how kind he is, but it’s just sickening how ruthless Hollywood can be, and don’t get me started on-”

Blaze’ mother stops and looks at her son and then back to Sonja.

“How is he really doing? I know he has to put on a brave face for the camera but…”

Blaze goes to open his mouth, but feels Sonja squeezing his arm even tighter.

She’s protecting her from IT. Letting IT in… Good. He can’t risk that. Anything but that.

“He’s stronger than he gives himself credit for… my Blaze. I mean… Nathan. Like you said… when you have to live up to such high expectations, only a few people can handle that kind of pressure. It’s nothing to be ashamed of that he hasn’t won a match since… since…”

Blaze squirms.

“Since May. Against Harley Walker,” Amy chimes in, with unironic motherly pride.

“Oh of course,” Sonja smiles and places her free hand on Blaze’s shoulder. “I had forgotten. You really do keep on top of things don’t you?”

Amy smiles weakly, and rubs her hands on her apron.

“Oh it’s nothing. I mean, what else am I going to do in a place like this? I just keep myself busy and there are so many people in this town who remember Nathan fondly - even if he did cause a bit of trouble back then. I mean, what teenager doesn’t?”

Sonja nods.

"The community sounds incredibly supportive. That must mean the world to Nathan."

Amy looks up, and locking eyes with Blaze. With Nathan.

“I thought it would… but you saw what happened in Minneapolis. And then him vanishing for those two months. I really had thought, when he came back here after all this time he had turned a corner. Now I think I just ended up pushing him further away."

Blaze wants to scream, tell his mother that he didn’t run away - he was taken. He was abused. At least… he thinks so. He’s not so sure anymore. But Max Kael cannot know about his mother. IT can’t know. Blaze cannot risk letting IT out…

Sonja steps forward and puts a hand on Amy Lake’s shoulder.

“Well. Now I’m here and we can help Nathan… together.”

Amy hesitates - just for a second. Enough for Sonja to notice the forced smile Blaze recognizes spreading across his mother’s face.

“You’re a good person, Sonja”

"Back at you, Ms. Lake."

“Oh, please. Call me Amy.”

Sonja reaches her hand into her purse with stealth.

“Okay, then Amy….”

Sonja pauses, and then smiles.

“...so what’s for lunch?”

📼📼📼

Somewhere Lost Blaze sits in silence as he watches Sonja click and swipe away at her phone… her gorgeous olive complexion bleached into nothingness by the digital glow of Instagram, TikTok, and every other social media de jour she happened to be on - or responding to.

At Blaze’s request, Sonja had agreed to not stay at his mother’s house; instead they booked a nearby motel that, quite frankly, hadn’t had an update since the 1990s - if not earlier.

The couple were sitting alone out in the facility’s courtyard on the edge of an overchlorinated pool that, by the smell of it, could sanitize an emergency room.

On the fringes of what Blaze remembered as the town’s go-to staycation destination sat a glitchy Street Fighter II cabinet, a sad-looking claw machine, and a cigarette dispenser that was now distributing Pokemon cards rather than cancer sticks.

“This place is a fucking dump.”

Sonja doesn’t look up as she says this. Blaze, in turn, doesn’t react to the words — but soon sees Sonja’s eyes locked on his.

“Hello? Earth to Nathan?”

Blaze forces a smile, running his finger on the nearby table, wet with the humidity created from the empty pool. He sees flashes of himself standing at the arcade cabinet. It took every quarter from his summer paper route when he was 10, but he was able to finally take down Chase Holman on the last day of summer break before middle school.

Blaze smiles and closes his eyes.

“Yeah… a real dump.”

Sonja pauses for a second but then decides to return to her social media feeds.

“Oh…”

Blaze opens his eyes, sitting up. Any time Sonja has that tone in her voice it can’t mean anything good. He watches, knowing better than to interrupt her, as she swipes, reads, swipes, and then lowers her phone, the glowing screen going dark as she looks up toward the ceiling.

Blaze doesn’t dare look up. Not here. He keeps his attention on Sonja who sighs and taps her phone against her knee rhythmically. A metronome of analysis. Calculation. She looks him up and down, her face seemingly straining to find something… but coming up short. He sinks back into his chair, a growing heaviness on his chest.

“Who is it?”

“No one you know.”

Blaze hesitates, unsure of what she’s implying, but he waits for Sonja to continue… yet all he gets is silence. The weight in his chest and lungs only grows heavier, beginning to suffocate him, as she goes back to typing and swiping, but still Blaze can’t bring himself to interrupt.

So he waits… his chest and lungs slowly filling with pressure.

Sonja looks up, unperturbed.

“You think it would matter even if I told you who it was? What makes you think you’ll even win another match in PRIME, Nathan? ”

Blaze looks down, muttering.

“I didn’t lose last time.”

Sonja raises her eyebrows.

“What was that?”

Blaze looks up. His eyes focused but cautious - like a rabbit that's spotted a circling hawk.

“This time I’ll listen to you, Sonja. Whatever you need me to do.”

As soon as he says those words, he watches as Sonja sets her phone down, leaning forward with glimmering eyes… the eyes he fell in love with. She pushes her hair back casually before leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms.

“Danny Christie.”

Blaze blinks, not registering.

“See, I told you…”

Sonja rolls her eyes and swipes again at her phone before holding up a YouTube video on her phone.

“He’s a Welshie. From that city where Ryan Reynolds and that doofus from It’s Always Sunny are trying to save that one fútbol team. Anyways, that doesn’t matter - what matters is that he’s a fighter. Like an actual fighter. Like… Bruce Lee, Jet Li, or … Jackie Chan - except he’s white. Like … REALLY white.”

Blaze squirms.

“So? I’ve faced guys like that before…”

Sonja looks up.

“And won?”

Blaze sinks back into his chair and tries to look anywhere but Sonja. Or the ceiling.

“So, what should I do?”

Sonja stands up and walks over to Blaze, she crouches down and places a hand on his leg. A sign of affection quickly undercut by the thick screen encased in pink alligator skin being raised up high above them both.

“Sonja… please…”

Click.

“Hey everyone! I’m sure everyone has seen the bookings for ReVival 76 just posted and what an amazing opportunity for Blaze to stage his comeback against the Danny Christie!?With all that we’ve been through, a win would absolutely mean the world to us… so please keep Blaze in your thoughts and prayers as he recovers here in Montevideo and we look forward to seeing you in Tam-”

Before he knows what he’s doing, Blaze is shoving Sonja’s arm away from him, sending her reeling backwards as her phone goes flying toward the pool. The two watch as the alligator skin case slips and slides on the wet tile before coming to a rest just inches from a six-foot drop into the water.

Blaze catches his breath as Sonja stands up and slowly walks over to the pool. She bends down, careful to keep her designer shoes dry, and collects her phone. She holds it up, examines the integrity of the device, and then begins to slide her fingers along the touch screen with precision before tapping her finger and sliding the device into her pants pocket.

“Sonja, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

He watches as she carefully places herself back into her chair across from him, the thick silence cut only by the buzzing of decades old fluorescent lighting.

“Why should you be sorry?”

Blaze rubs at his legs, nervously.

“About the phone – I didn’t mean-”

“Yes you did.”

Blaze stops as he sees a flicker behind Sonja’s eyes, his heart catching in his throat. Not here. Not here.

Not her.

“But that’s what is going to sell tickets. That is what is going to make your match the one to watch …”

Sonja grips the edges of her chair tightly, leaning forward. He can see the void in her eyes.

“In fact I'm counting on it. Because when you LOSE, Nathan. I will be the one there to pick up the pieces. Like I’ve done since the beginning. And yet… it’s never Sonja in the spotlight. It’s BLAZE fucking CLAYMORE. You keep managing to find yourself into movie roles, wrestling contracts, and you even have a damned fan club here in this shithole. But ask yourself, Nathan, have you done a damned thing to deserve any of it?”

The walls around Blaze Claymore begin to melt. Turn into ink. They seep with oil and bile as Sonja’s words begin to become muffled - distant.

“The only reason you still have a career is because I fought for you! I didn’t let people forget about you! And this is how you repay me?”

Then, before everything goes black, like echoes from a tin can reverberating in his brain… he hears the words, slicing through the ichor, in a voice he doesn’t recognize:

W̶̛̖̥̄̆h̵̪̖̓a̸̱͙̖̒̈́̀t̷̫͍͒͜ ̷̺͎̯͊w̶͖̼̹͂̊o̷̜͐͆u̸͍͇̓͊l̸̡̲͎̈́d̴̥͔̮̋́ ̵̞̟͐̒͠y̴̻̪͠o̷̰̣͋̿͜ŭ̴͖ř̵͈͒͠ ̸̻͈͙̓m̴̢̱̐̂ò̸̺̩̫́͆ẗ̴̘͔̽̈́ͅh̴̡͉̄ĕ̸̝̾͑r̴̨̭̚͠ ̴̞͖̫͗̚t̵͍̘̄h̴͇͂ì̶̠̫̅̂n̷͔̪̝̆͒͂ḳ̸̪͝ͅ?̸̨̭͉͌͝

📼📼📼

Somewhere Found Blaze Claymore stands at the cracked concrete curb as dandelions push through decades-old fractures, staring blankly at the same sidewalk where he crashed his new bike when he was eight and scraped his palms raw... and where he got his first kiss from Pauline McDonald as he hopped off the bus on the last day of junior high.

Images. Not memories.

Blaze watches, numb, as a 20-something named Raul helps him pack luggage into the Lyft, until he feels his mother's kiss on his cheek.

“Oh, I’m so sorry you can’t stay longer.”

“It’s OK, Mom. I’ll be back. Sonja too.”

Blaze forces a smile as his mother holds his shoulders.

“Honey… there are some things that a mother knows… and I know Sonja’s a sweet girl and all, but just remember to take care of yourself too, OK? I just don't want to see you get hurt.”

Blaze begins to hear a buzzing in his ears - blood rushing through his head.

“What do you mean?”

His mother looks over her shoulder and then back to Blaze, squeezing his hand.

“Just… be safe. Whatever happens, you’ll take care of yourself. Promise?”

Blaze nods, his body feeling just a little bit lighter.

“Yeah.”

Then he looks up, over his mother’s shoulder, to see Sonja dressed in a fire-red blazer with tailoring that transforms her curvy silhouette into an hourglass. Her normally casual hair has been sculpted into voluminous waves that catch the light like polished obsidian, and her lips reflect back a luminous maroon color that, as she smiles, make her teeth look white as bone.

The Coach purse costing more than most people in this town make in a month bounces at her side as she steps off of his family home’s porch in tan heels and matching neckerchief.

“Sonja… where are your bags?”

Amy looks warily at Blaze as he sees Sonja reach into her pocket and pull out her phone, checking to make sure everything is in its right place.

“Oh, I thought we talked about this last night…”

Blaze’s heart begins to pound nervously, rapidly. The buzzing in his ears grows louder.

“I just… it’s so peaceful here and your mom and I are getting along so well - so I've decided I’m staying here for a little while longer. But you’ll be OK without me, right?”

Blaze shifts nervously.

“So you… won’t be there? For my match? What if something goes wrong?”

Sonja looks up from her phone, but only for a second before reapplying mascara to her eyelashes, her voice monotone.

“You’ll do great, honey. And when you’re back, everything here will be even better than you remember. If you need me in the meantime … you know where to find me.”

Sonja flashes a confident smile, eyes locked on Blaze and no one else, as she holds up the phone in her hands like a warrior unsheathing their sword.

“Hey, we going or what, man?”

Blaze turns to find a very annoyed Lyft driver slamming his trunk shut, pointing at his watch. He turns back, hesitating, as he looks at his mom, then to Sonja.

“Go on now, Nathan. And stay safe.” his mom says.

Blaze grudgingly opens the passenger door and pauses before sliding into the back seat.

“You too, mom. I’ll find my way back as soon as I can.”

“I know honey. You always do.”