The second you laid your eyes on him, you knew he was trouble. You could sense it. You could feel it. He exuded this dark, sinful aura. You couldn't quite explain it, but you knew nothing good would come from him being here.

There was something about those mysterious, knowing eyes that lingered on yours for far too long, something about the way his lips would curve into a vile little smirk, something about the way the air would shift in the room whenever he entered. There was something different about him. There was something strange; something about him that didn't sit well with you.

"I found him! I found the chosen one!" Miriam, your mother exclaimed from downstairs. You were studying in your room, minding your own business when you heard her unusually cheery voice.

"What? What are you talking about? Mom, you sound crazy!" you opened the door to your room and shouted back, rolling your eyes in annoyance.

"Come out here and see for yourself! Seeing is believing!" Miriam replied with a laugh. She hadn't sounded this excited in God knows how long, but still you weren't having it.

"Mom, I have to study," you whined in protest.

"Get out here! Come on! Be friendly and introduce yourself to our new guest!" Miriam continued, her voice loud and scratchy as she spoke to you from the kitchen.

You uttered a dramatic sigh and stood up from the chair at your desk where you were studying. You started heading downstairs, having to drag your feet.

"Mom, it better not be another black goat!" you called out as you made your way downstairs. You were expecting to hear a bleat from a goat but once you entered the kitchen, you got more than you bargained for. You stopped in your tracks the moment your feet hit the floor.

"I found him! I found him! Our savior! He's what we've all been waiting for!" Miriam raved, the biggest grin on her face that you had ever seen.

Miriam was alongside a tall man with strawberry blonde hair and glimmering blue eyes you couldn't help but get lost in. There was a smug look on his face, like he was taking pride in knowing something you didn't.

"Hi," he started, "I'm Michael Langdon."

"Hi," you said, your eyes met his intense gaze and you swallowed a nervous gulp. He was a beauty alright, practically sculpted by the gods themselves. He had a jawline for days. It took you aback and immediately, your interest was somewhat piqued.

Michael stretched his hand out to you, his eyes never leaving yours, which made you all the more nervous, there was a dangerous glint to them that caused your heart to skip a beat. You introduced yourself to Michael and shook his hand. Your blood ran cold the moment you did.

A wave of dread washed over you and your heart started beating at an unforgiving rate all of a sudden, a rock settling in the pit of your stomach. Then it dawned on you that there was something very wrong about this man. You pulled your hand away in an instant, almost like you had just been burned. You tried playing it off like it was nothing but Michael narrowed his eyes at you, they held a hint of mockery to them, it was almost as if he was staring straight through your very soul. You tried for something resembling a smile but it felt a lot more like a grimace.

His lips were parted and it looked like something unspoken was on the tip of his tongue but he didn't dare say what he was thinking. What appeared to be a fake smile formed on his face and silence stretched on for a moment too long before you looked back at your mother with a serious expression, your lips pressed tightly together.

"Mother, a word?" you asked, raising your brows.

"What is it, now?" Miriam heaved a disappointed sigh and you led her to the hallway, away from Michael.

"What did I tell you about bringing home strays?" you asked.

"This one is not a stray. This is the one! You won't believe what I've seen! We held this black mass and I brought him a sacrifice. The devil himself appeared before Michael! It was beautiful, life-changing! I could hear my heart singing, and the crows! It would have made you a believer, I'm sure," Miriam babbled, going on and on, she was delirious at this point. "Maybe if you would have attended black mass like I've told you, we wouldn't be having this discussion."

"That doesn't make any sense, whatsoever. Good God, Mom, this has to stop," you said, shaking your head.

"Hey, what did I say about using that kind of language?" Miriam snapped, pointing at you with a glare. "Will you just trust me on this? I know what I'm doing! We should be celebrating! This one is special. He is. You're going to see that."

"That's what you said about the last one, who ended up taking my bedroom because he said he liked the way it smelled, which you allowed, telling me it would all be worth it, that he'd be the one to save us. And we all remember how that ended. He killed my cat!" you said, fighting back the urge to cringe. You'll never forget that you lost your furball to that psychopath.

"This one isn't going to take your room. I wouldn't want you two getting frisky in there. I'm well aware of his good looks, you know. He's around your age and I don't want you getting any ideas thinking you can seduce him," Miriam said in a solemn tone. "And we don't have a cat this time around so we'll be fine!"

You rolled your eyes in annoyance. "Trust me, I'm not going to jump his bones. Satanists aren't really my type. I just think you're making a mistake here."

"You need to learn to have some faith in our Dark Lord. I'm really not liking your tone, young lady," Miriam continued to scold you.

"When I shook his hand, something didn't feel right," you told her. You started to feel queasy and sick to your stomach, like a sense of impending doom.

"Oh please, did God tell you that?" Miriam waved you off, crossing her arms over her chest, a snarl on her face.

"No, I'm just getting a bad feeling. I think you should return him to where he came from," you said bluntly.

"He was living in that murder house! His family didn't want him, his mother even tried to kill him! He can have a home here, a bed to sleep in, where he can fully be himself, where he can embrace his destiny!" Miriam persisted.

"The murder house? That's where he was living?" you asked, in disbelief.

Before you were able to continue your conversation, Michael entered the hallway, his hands behind his back, looking complacent.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, raising his brows.

"Yes you are, I'm talking to my mother right now," you answered frankly.

"Oh don't be rude, dear! You're fine, Michael, make yourself at home. I'll be right there to prepare you a delicious dinner," Miriam replied, her voice much higher when she spoke to him.

"Thank you, Ms. Mead," he said, looking back at her with a smile, and then his eyes landed on yours, that smug smirk on his face again before he took his leave.

"What are you going to cook for him? Clam chowder with half a cup of rat poisoning?" you predicted, a skeptical look on your face.

"Stop. You will accept him in this house and into your life. He's not going anywhere. He's going to be the one to save us all, so you better clean up your act, missy," she scolded you and then walked off to attend to Michael.

You and Miriam had a complicated relationship. You two weren't exactly close to put things lightly and she was always trying to force her religious beliefs down your throat, much to your dismay. She was obsessed with making you see the 'light' or more like the darkness of her way of life. You didn't share her beliefs, yet she was very persistent about trying to convert you, make you a believer, but you could never get into it. She had shrines all over the house dedicated to Satan, in every room (except yours, even though she pushed heavily for it), and that didn't help either, if anything it made you pull away even more so. You thought she was out of her mind, welcoming all these dark spirits and evil doers in her life so freely and proudly. You knew that side of the world wasn't something to be messed with. You wanted to be a normal girl living a normal life but your mother was making that look like it was going to be impossible.

You weren't an angel yourself, by no means, but sacrificing innocent lives to the dark lord and performing incantations with goat heads was extreme to say the least. You hoped her obsessions would dwindle someday or at least she would stop pestering you about attending her church, but eventually you came to terms with the fact that she was never going to change, and you had to accept that.

But you didn't have to accept Michael.

"Dear, come help me with dinner!" Miriam called you from the hallway and reluctantly you returned to the kitchen, your patience running thin. You were starting to wonder where Miriam left that rat poisoning, maybe you could poison them both, kill two birds with one stone.

You helped Miriam cook up a beef stew and Michael seemed to notice that you were chopping up those vegetables quite violently. You found that his eyes would linger on yours when he thought you didn't notice but you caught on quickly. His piercing gaze wouldn't leave you alone and it was started to frustrate you. There was something inviting about them, like he was almost trying to seduce you without words or even without really doing anything. You would watch him from the corner of your eye, still trying to figure him out.

Goddamn those bedroom eyes. He was certainly nice to look at, but he was getting on your nerves and he just got here. You couldn't imagine what living with him was going to be like.

Dinner was finally served, thanks to your hard work. Miriam and Michael were talking up a storm almost the entire time about God knows what, you were trying to block both of them out to the best of your ability but they were so loud. You had to bite your tongue not to say anything. He was acting like he was a part of this family already, and once again, that only served to irritate you.

You carried the pot of beef stew over to the table and placed it down in the center. You brought everyone's bowls and spoons over as well because Miriam insisted that you show some manners. Then you poured them both glasses of cold water. Miriam and Michael were on the opposite sides of the table while you sat at the front end.

"It's time to say grace. Let's all join hands," Miriam instructed, reaching her hand over to yours.

"Mom, for the hundredth time, no thank you," you refused and glanced at her with a glare before you began eating. Miriam looked back at you with a frown and shook her head in disappointment.

"Michael, give me yours," Miriam said and Michael linked his fingers with hers, shutting their eyes. They began praying together, almost in unison, thanking the Dark Lord for their meals while you sat there awkwardly eating your food in silence. It was going to be a long day.

When they were finished praying, they began eating the stew.

"So Michael, Mom told me that she found you at the murder house. What was living there like?" you asked and tilted your head to the side,, your tone could be considered what some people call bitchy.

Michael seemed a little taken aback by your bold question and he looked uncomfortable.

"Well it wasn't exactly ideal, it didn't really feel like home," Michael answered.

"Hey, where are your manners? That's not very polite!" Miriam told you with a frown.

"I'm just trying to get to know him!" you defended yourself.

"I'm sorry about her, Michael. She's had a rough day, don't mind her," Miriam said, making up excuses for you.

"It's alright. I'm glad to be here. I owe you so much for welcoming me into your home and being so good to me," Michael started, getting all sentimental.

"You don't have to thank me. I just did what I knew was right, and I'm glad I did. I believe in you Michael, you have made me so proud. You've shown me the way and I can't thank you enough for that," Miriam said, placing a hand over her chest.

"Thank you, Ms. Mead. I'm getting the feeling that someone doesn't want me around," Michael said somewhat coyly, side-eyeing you.

"She'll adjust. She always does. Just give her some time, get to know each other, make her feel comfortable," Miriam explained, and you noticed that she was side-eyeing you too.

"I'm right here. You two can stop acting like I'm not," you said bitterly.

"Why are you being so rude? I taught you better than that, I know I did," Miriam said, glaring at you.

"I'm just trying to get to know our new guest," you said, looking back at Michael with a fake smile.

"Well there's no need to interrogate him," Miriam barked.

"I'll try to get to know him more then. What were your parents like? Were they living in the murder house too?" you asked, stuffing a mouthful of the stew afterwards.

"Yeah, they lived there. I decided it wasn't the place for me," Michael said, a pensive expression on his face. "This place feels a lot more like home," he added, a smile playing on his lips.

"And he's here to stay. That's final," Miriam assured, shooting daggers at you but smiling at Michael.

"Well if you think I'm going to cook you a meal every day, you're wrong," you mumbled to yourself.

"He doesn't have to lift a finger because I'll be the one to cook for him! He needs his beauty rest and he doesn't need to focus on trivial things," Miriam said.

"That's so kind of you Ms. Mead," Michael smiled, in awe.

"Oh please, call me Miriam," Miriam said with a laugh.

"So he just gets to freeload off of us?" you asked, your brows arched.

"It's not freeloading. He's doing us a favor by staying here. We are the ones that need to give to him. He's the chosen one, his presence is a gift," Miriam explained, giving Michael a boost up.

"We need to give to him? Give him what exactly?" you questioned.

"Our love, our support, whatever he needs we have to give to him," Miriam stressed.

"You don't have to do all that for me, just letting me stay here is enough," Michael said through a smile.

"I insist," Miriam started but then she added, "we insist."

"Speak for yourself, mother," you mumbled under your breath.

"I'm speaking for you too because you forgot your manners, as your mother I can do that," Miriam corrected.

"You'd think as your daughter I would have a say in who comes and goes here but apparently not," you complained, talking back to your mother.

"Hey, that's your mother, you shouldn't talk to her like that," Michael chided.

"You don't know what living with her is like and you just got here, so don't tell me how to talk to her," you argued.

"Thank you, Michael!" Miriam sang in agreement.

You shoved one last spoonful of the stew in your mouth before you spoke, "And I'm all done. I'm going to be in my room praying to God Almighty to have some mercy on me. I really need some faith to help me go on when this is my life."

"Hey, we do not pray to Him in this house! Don't you dare do that, young lady! I simply forbid it," Miriam yelled out, but you had already walked off and entered the solace of your room, slamming the door behind you.

Michael's eyes widened, giving Miriam a 'yikes' look while she shook her head in disappointment. He found the whole situation to be amusing.

Later that day, much to your dismay, Michael was showed to the room he would be staying at. She had given him a tour right after dinner and now he was to make himself at home. Your arms were crossed and you were visibly upset when you realized the very room he would be staying at. It was your father's. Your mother's second husband. How dare she give him what used to be your father's room. It wasn't fair. He didn't deserve to stay there. You tried pulling her aside, hoping she would reconsider her decision but she simply dismissed everything you said about it, which only made you angrier and more displeased with Michael's staying here. You were sure nothing good would come from it.

"This is where you'll be staying, Michael. Now, I only have one rule, and the rule is that you two can't sleep together in the same room. Fornication of any kind is completely off limits, so no sneaking off to see each other. That's mainly towards you, missy," Miriam said, pointing at you. "This one has slept with people she knew I disapproved of just to spite me. Be very wary of her, she's a temptress," she told Michael, who let out a puff of laughter.

You stared back at her in disgust that she would say something like that in front of Michael.

"Don't you think that's a little too much information, Mother?" you asked, gritting your teeth angrily.

"I just thought that I should warn him, that's all, you can be trouble," Miriam said, clasping her hands together.

"I'll keep that in mind," Michael assured.

"Now, you should get some rest, Michael. We both have to be up bright and early for church tomorrow," Miriam reminded him, placing a hand on his shoulder as she smiled at him.

"Will you be joining us?" Michael asked, turning to you with a curious look in his eye, like he was actually interested if you would be there or not.

"No thank you, there's no way in hell I'm going there," you said bluntly.

"I've been trying to get her to go for years now, Michael, it's a lost cause. But the invitation will always be out and everyone would welcome you with open arms, so always remember you have a family there," Miriam maintained, but it didn't matter.

"I don't need another reminder, mother," you said in a vexed tone.

"I feel like I have to repeat myself because I don't think you're really hearing me sometimes," Miriam started. That was true, you were already tuning her out now.

"Well, now that you've gotten the grand tour. I'm off to bed. Enjoy your stay, Michael," you told him with a faux smile before you walked off.

As you made your way back to your room, you could hear Michael and Miriam talking about you. You stopped to listen.

"I don't mean to be a burden. If my being here is going to upset her, maybe it's not the best idea that I stay," Michael whispered.

"No, no, don't listen to her. She'll get over it. I am not letting you go, Michael, and you are not going back to that damned house not if I have anything to say about it," Miriam reassured Michael, caressing his shoulder. "Trust me, everything is going to work out."

"Okay, I trust you," Michael answered with a nod of his head.

You sighed before you left to your room and closed your door quietly.

You were lying down on your bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying with everything you could to fall asleep. You dragged your hands down the sides of your face and turned to your side. The moon was high above the sky and a ray of pale moonlight was poking through your window. Squinting, you groaned again, and flipped over to lay on your other side. You stared at the wall, not even bothering to close your eyes. You were absolutely restless and you couldn't settle with just lying still. You were sure it had been over an hour since you've been tossing and turning, and still not even a wink of sleep. Nothing.

It was because of Michael. You tried denying it, but you could only do so for so long. You didn't feel comfortable with him living here. You knew there was something very evil in him, a great darkness lurking in his very presence. Your mind flashed back to the moment you shook his hand, the moment you locked eyes with him. There was something off, something you felt that just wasn't right about him.

Your mother was convinced he was the one, that he was special, but for what exactly? You couldn't help but wonder. Something had to be done. You had to do something. He didn't belong here, and you didn't want him getting comfortable in your own home, this was supposed to be your safe place, and now here you were, fearing for your safety. Minutes passed and you soon grew impatient. Your gut instinct was telling you something was wrong, very very wrong.

You stood up from your bed and left your room, entering the kitchen. No one was around. It was time to make your move.

You snatched a kitchen knife from the knife stand and tip toed over to what was now Michael's room. A spike of unease flitted through you but you were determined to go through with this. Miriam was a light sleeper so you knew you had to be as silent as possible. You wouldn't want her waking up and catch what you were about to do. No, that wouldn't turn out so well for you.

Quietly, you opened the door to the room, and there he was. Michael was stretched out atop your father's bed, looking far too much at home. He was facing the wall in front of him. You proceeded further inside, cautiously, careful not to make a sound. You stepped closer to the foot of the bed, gripping on the handle of the knife tightly. His eyes were closed, his chest heaving up and down. Your heart was beating heavily in your chest. There was a darkness that was clinging to this room now, suddenly, the air felt thick and suffocating. A series of shivers coursed through your body and your spine tensed. You drew in a sharp breath, clenching your teeth to avoid the quiver of your jaw.

You could do this. You were going to do this.

You stood behind him at the side of the bed, raising your knife.

You swallowed a thick gulp, but then something knocked you back.

Something knocked you back and the next thing you knew your body was forced against the wall. The knife was no longer in your hand, it practically flew away and to your surprise, it was stuck inside the wall, just inches away from your face. You gasped sharply in response, your breath hitching. You lifted your head, eyes darting toward the sound of footsteps approaching out of pure instinct.

Then you heard the rumble of laughter. Michael sauntered towards you with elegant and fluid movements, crossing the room where you stood, a wicked little smirk on his face, looking all too pleased with himself.

"My, my. Care to explain what you're doing here?" Michael asked, tilting his head to the side, his eyes narrowed.

"You're not supposed to be here," you whispered, scowling at him as your cheeks flushed. You felt your pulse speed up when he angled his body above and over yours. His arms slid around your waist quickly and you didn't even have the leverage to do anything about it. You pushed against him, but he shifted and wrenched one of your arms up high on your spine.

"You don't waste any time, do you? You get straight to the point. When you set your mind to something, you do it, no questions asked. You're not afraid to get your hands dirty. That can be a good thing, if given the right opportunity, but it can also be a weakness, and this case, I think you moved a little too fast," Michael said, his voice calm and calculating, and at the same time it sounded like he was taunting you.

His chest was pressed tightly against your side. He had one of his arms secured around your torso and the other still had your wrist pinned up and between your shoulder blades. His breath was hot against your cheek and he used his muscular frame to keep you against the wall.

"Let go of me," you said, raising your voice, feeling a burst of anger.

"Are you going to behave?" he teased in a raspy tone.

"Just let me go," you demanded hoarsely.

"Why don't you start by explaining what was going through your pretty little head just now?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm.

You struggled, trying to push back against him but to no avail, he was able to keep you in place. You turned your head and looked over your shoulder as best as you could to see him, and you caught sight of those startlingly blue eyes. This man and proximity was a troublesome combination for you. Perhaps it was just the man in general that was trouble really.

"I don't want you here. I don't like the way this place feels when you're around," you managed, your voice nearly failing you. As much as you didn't want to admit it, you were intimidated and more than a little frightened at this point.

"You may think you're clever but you're not the first one who has attempted a stunt like that. I saw it coming a mile away. I knew you were thinking it before you even made the decision to go through with it," Michael told you in a whisper, his lips stretching into a wider smirk. He was amused with your failed attempt, and it only made you feel all the more pathetic for even trying. He turned you back around so you were facing him now, allowing your arms to fall limply to your sides.

"What are you?" you questioned. You exhaled a breath you didn't know you had been holding.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Michael scoffed. You felt Michael press himself closer, placing his hand lightly on your shoulder. Long fingers began to rub at your muscles, working small circles into your tense neck and upper arms. You both engaged in a staring contest. For a moment, neither of you spoke. You could hear your own breaths thundering through your ears, could differentiate each individual beat of your heart. The temperature of the room seemed to skyrocket and there was a tension that stretched on for far too long between you two. You looked straight at him, boldly, trying to play it off like you weren't apprehensive.

"You can't answer a question with another question," you spat. You couldn't help but shiver when his long fingers starting toying with the ribbon on your grey blouse.

Michael started humming to himself as he continued to use his body weight to hold you still, between him and the wall. "Patience is a virtue. You're gonna have to wait and see, stay along for the ride."

"You're in my dad's room, and I want you out," you blurted out. The fact that he was here left a bitter taste in your mouth. This very room was a reminder of your dad who had met an untimely end when he was poisoned by Miriam, and you would be lying if you said you didn't still feel any resentment towards her for that.

He chuckled darkly at that. "You were daddy's little girl weren't you?"

"Shut up," you said, fuming.

"Oh, why do I sense that you're just full of surprises? Maybe ones even Daddy didn't approve of?" Michael asked, speaking in a honeyed voice. His fingers pulled away from your blouse, making a tsk tsk sound.

"I said shut the fuck up," you repeated angrily.

"I'm also sensing Mommy issues, to an extreme degree. The little girl who doesn't share her mother's beliefs, who feels like she's stuck with her because she doesn't have her daddy to lean on anymore. That's a recipe for disaster," Michael teased, trivializing your situation.

"You don't know shit, okay? You don't know shit about me or my life," you cursed, your eyes burning with anger.

"How do you think your mother would feel about what you just tried to do? I don't think she would be very pleased if she knew, it would sure be a shame if somebody told her," Michael trailed off, his face was only inches away from yours and you could feel his breath hit your lips.

"You're not going to tell her shit. She doesn't need to know about this," you hissed, trying to lean back but there was hardly any space for you to do so.

"I'd hate to leave her in the dark. She's been so kind to me, it would be the right thing to do," Michael said, his tone full of mockery.

"There's nothing right about you. When you're around, the air in the room shifts, it's like there's this aura of darkness surrounds you, it follows you wherever you go," you explained, and you could feel that sinking feeling in your chest even now.

"You're perceptive, aren't you? Though, maybe you should take a long, hard look in the mirror, because I could say the same about you," Michael shot back.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, nearly stumbling on your words.

"I feel it around you too, this true darkness. You're aware of it, but you're denying it, you're fighting it. Why? Are you scared of it? Are you afraid of what might happen if you let it take control?" Michael asked, and you hated the way his voice sent tingles down your spine. "I want to learn more. I think I like this side of you. I find a challenge to be exciting, it gives me something to look forward to."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm not – I'm not anything like that," you murmured.

"You came in here with a knife, trying to kill me. I think that speaks for itself," Michael explained, nodding his head towards the knife.

"I needed to see for myself if what my mother was saying was true," you admitted.

"And were your questions answered?" he asked, curious.

"I don't know. I don't know anything. I just know you don't belong here. You've manipulated my mother into letting you stay. You're a charmer, but that charm's not going to work on me," you stated boldly.

"I think she would beg to differ. She wants me here, so you're going to be seeing a lot more of me. I think we should agree to be civil with each other, don't you think? It would make everything easier for everyone," Michael said, his words drawled out.

"I don't care to make anything easier for you. I will make sure your stay is as short as possible. You could live on the streets for all I care," you spat cruelly.

"Then I can't make any promises not to tell Ms. Mead about this little predicament we have on our hands. I can't wait to see the look on her face when she hears what you've been up to," Michael threatened. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes as they bore into yours, and his smile predatory. He was a troublemaker, a manipulator, and he was getting on your last nerve.

"How about you just leave? Leave me and my mother alone, return to that house of horrors and never come back," you snarled, staring back into his eyes, challenging him.

"But I've already made myself at home, in your father's room," Michael taunted in a sultry tone. "I can't imagine leaving this nice, warm bed."

"Not for long," you assured.

"Last I checked, you're not supposed to be in here. Your mother thinks you just might seduce me," he chuckled quietly to himself. "So who's the one breaking the rules? I'll just add it to the list of things I have to tell Ms. Mead in our long discussion about you," Michael cooed, taking great satisfaction in tormenting you.

"Fuck off," you glowered at him before pushing him away from you forcefully with both hands. "This isn't over," you whispered, taking your leave.

"Oh, but aren't you forgetting something?" Michael asked, removing the knife from the wall and handing it to you. "I don't believe that belongs in here."

You huffed and snatched the knife out of his hand, exiting the room without saying another word to him.

You didn't know who he was, or what he was, but everything about him screamed misfortune. This was going to be one hell of a ride.