"Cloakwood is the name of the town."
That's what they told him.
"It's a small and peaceful town in Rivendale, a county down south."
Indeed, it seemed to be.
"It'll do you much good to start afresh in a place like that rather than a bustling city."
Maybe.
Although he couldn't remember much about the city, being out and about was a first for him… a first in six years.
"Further your education there. If, after your first year, you don't like it or can't pick a major from the limited courses they offer, then we can transfer you to someplace else."
He was supposed to begin college the next day, but it happened to be the first Monday in September— Labor day.
It was a public holiday—no classes till Tuesday.
At twenty-four, most of his peers were probably done with college, finishing up, or at least midway through. Yet here he was—about to start.
But it didn't really faze him. No, not at all.
If only they had let him remain where he'd been these past years.
But no—they said it was time for him to "step back into the world."
Jason wondered what good that would do anyone. The world was already filled with madmen aplenty—what good would it do to let a madder one out?
If only they had taken a little more time to think about that question.
But they didn't. And so here he was—in the house they'd arranged for him, in the town called Cloakwood.
Lazily, he lay on the bed in one of the rooms, blankly staring at the ceiling. His mind drifted… to a few hours earlier, when he had gone to a store to get something to eat.
It had been such a long time since he'd been the recipient of such pleasant and curious gazes.
"She looks like them," he muttered to himself, as the image of one of the girls he'd seen outside the store flashed before his eyes.
Remembering her fiery red hair was enough to cause a maniacal grin to crawl onto his face, and—
Knock. Knock.
—the sound at the front door snapped him out of the momentary madness he had nearly slipped into.
The knock came a second time, and he rose from the bed, already guessing who it might be.
The knock came a third time. Jason pulled the door open. As he had expected, he recognized the person standing there.
"Jason Parker," called the man in a khaki police uniform. Jason simply nodded.
The man wore a star on his left breast and a name tag on the right that read "Sheriff Brandon Pollock."
He took off his hat, revealing brown hair laced with some gray strands at the sides—making him resemble Reed Richards from Fantastic Four.
He also looked physically fit for the role.
"I'm Brandon Pollock, and I'm the Sheriff around here. I'm sure Peterson told you about me." With a slight dip of the head, he shook the man's outstretched hand.
Though his school was in the neighboring county of Raggswood, they had arranged a residence for him in Cloakwood—all because of this man.
Because they thought it was safer to put him in a town with someone they knew would keep an eye on him.
"This is Deputy Robert Harper—" Jason's eyes moved from the sheriff to the young blond Deputy standing tall behind him.
"Hi," Robert Harper said with a small nod.
"—and Deputy Darcy Cooper." Jason's gaze shifted from Harper to the other Deputy beside him.
"How do you do," Darcy Cooper said.
Still, no words left his lips—his eyes merely scanned the trio.
"Mind if we come in?" Pollock asked.
For a moment, Jason no longer looked at their faces. Instead his attention was on their boots.
His gaze lingered there for a while.
When he saw that, other than dust, they weren't covered in mud or anything else that might soil his floors, he stepped aside, allowing the men to enter the house.
"You were supposed to stop by the station before coming here, but you didn't show—so I thought I'd stop by myself."
Realizing the man had spoken in hopes of a response—and remembering his doctor's advice to try to be 'more vocal'—Jason finally opened his mouth.
"I was tired," he said, "and I only had the address of the house."
No one sat down. Everyone stood in the living room, as if waiting for one more important person to come in.
"I see," the sheriff tilted his head. "That's understandable… How's the house? Peterson said to keep it as simple as possible. Said that's the way you like it. So, how about it, Mr. Parker—"
"Jason," he cut in, "I'd prefer if you called me Jason."
Silently, Pollock stared at the young man before him and wondered, who in their right mind would see such a healthy, fine, young man and believe that he wasn't perfect?
Who would look at such a young man and ever guess the gruesome things he had done?
But he knew better.
He'd read his file before agreeing to let him stay in his town. He'd seen the hideous things buried beneath the handsome face and calm demeanor.
So he knew.
This young man was far from normal.
Still standing—with one hand holding his hat to his chest and the other hovering over his belt—Pollock nodded. "Alright, Mr. Jason." He tried to force a smile, but quickly realized it was no use, so he kept his frown and asked again, "Do you like the house?"
Jason looked around him and let out a soft sigh… His hands sank into his jean pockets, and his shoulders rose.
It was a small house—living room, two bedrooms, a bathroom, a toilet, and a kitchen. Furnished with only the most basic and necessary things. No unwanted decorations.
Yes, it was okay. So, he gave a slight nod.
"I see. I'm glad you like it. Harper and Darcy here put in most of the work to bring it together," Pollock explained, and Jason couldn't help but silently wonder why the two men still looked around as though they had stepped into an unfamiliar place.
Well, he wouldn't blame them.
Based on the things his files contained, it'd only be right to be cautious. Who knew what he might have hidden inside the room upon his arrival? This thought made Jason hide a smile.
"Well, they'll be in charge of you, so don't be alarmed if you see them around you most of the time." Pollock paused to see any sort of reaction from the man he was speaking with, but seeing that the languid expression on his face remained steadfast, he continued.
"They already have your home number and your cell number, so be sure to pick up whenever the phone rings." Again, he paused—this time, Jason nodded.
"Okay, that's about all I have to say to you today." He turned as if heading toward the door, but then paused and turned back to Jason.
"Now boy, I must let you know that I've read your file. As much as I am a Christian who believes that people can change, I'm also a law enforcer who's seen many claim to change only to return to the gutter."
Like watching an uninteresting puppet show, Jason stared at the man, silently waiting for him to finish his speech and leave—with his two German shepherds, Harper and Darcy.
"I really hope you won't be like dogs that go back to their vomit."
"This is a peaceful town, Jason, and I've been commissioned to make sure it stays that way. I hope your stay here will be pleasant—for you and for us all. Have a nice day, Jason. And don't hesitate to come to me whenever you need anything."
He turned, and Harper opened the door for him.
He placed his hat back onto his head and was about to step out when Jason spoke up.
"Sheriff,"
The man turned his head one last time and stared at the one who had called him.
A brief silence passed between all four of them until Jason asked, "Are you looking out for me… or keeping an eye on me?"
The sheriff's brows narrowed, and an easy smirk played over his lips.
"Well, boy, that depends on how you act. Good day, Mr. Parker."
Jason stood by the door for a few moments after the sheriff's vehicle had vanished from view. He looked at his new neighborhood.
So quiet.
So peaceful.
So… untainted.