The young man, 21 year-old Dylan Schmecks, closed the door to his lemon of a car and walked to the front door of his new home. It was not what he was expecting; it was an old stone house that looked to have been abandoned ages ago. He took out the old key he had received and unlocked the door. It opened with an eerie creak and revealed the dilapidated inside of the house. Cobwebs and dust blanketed everything, and the air had a foul stench, as if you could smell every rodent that was decomposing within the house's ancient walls.
"And this is why you buy houses in person," Dylan sucked in a deep breath and stepped inside. A mouse scurried across the room and disappeared into a hole in the wall. "I really need to clean this place before I bring any of my stuff in here," he readjusted his backpack and continued to explore the place. The halls were dark and the floors were broken and creaky. He knew there was a reason this house sold for so cheap. It wasn't long before he felt that someone was watching him. He spun around, but there was nothing but the empty hall he had just journeyed through; slowly, he turned back around and continued his exploration. He came to the tattered staircase that led to the second floor, slowly making his way up the squeaky steps, praying after each one that he wouldn't fall through. As he inspected the master bedroom upstairs, he heard a crash behind him.
"AH!" Dylan jumped and twirled around only to find that a mouse had caused the noise. "Oh my God! Glad no one was around to hear that yelp," he chuckled nervously. "That scared the shit out of me. This place feels haunted. I'm sure it'll feel better after I clean it." He carefully made his way back outside to his car as he put together a list of things to get from the store; groceries, cleaning supplies, toiletries. As he approached his car, he heard a chilling whisper.
"Ruuun," the breathy voice said. Dylan snapped his head up and scanned the area around him. When he didn't see anything, he quickly jumped in his car and drove to the store. Once he got back, he grabbed the cleaning supplies that he had purchased and headed inside to start the daunting tasks before him. He cleaned for a few hours before stopping to make himself lunch. He sat on the trunk of his car, devouring his food, when he thought he saw someone move from the attic window. A chill raced down his spine. Dylan shook his head and continued eating. Once he was finished he picked up his broom and marched up to the front door.
"Ghosts aren't real," he mumbled to himself before walking inside. By the time the sun started to go down, Dylan had cleaned the front entrance, the kitchen, and part of the living room; though, there were still plenty of things that needed to be fixed. He trudged back out to his car and grabbed a few bags to take inside. As he walked up to the open door, it slammed shut in his face. He stood frozen for a minute.
"It was probably just the wind," he shook it off and opened the door to go inside. "The wind slammed the solid wooden door shut," he tried to assure himself. He set up a temporary bed and a lantern in the living room where he had cleaned earlier. He brought a few snacks inside to serve as his dinner and changed his clothes. "I should start on the bathroom in the morning," he stretched his aching muscles. As he ate his snacks, he noticed a mouse scouring around the fireplace. He watched it for a while until he started drifting to sleep, but before he fully closed his eyes, he heard the mouse screech, a snap, and then silence. Dylan jumped up from his makeshift bed and held the lantern up to see. To his horrified surprise, a clawed hand crept out of the chimney as something came out and started crawling toward him. It looked deathly thin, and he couldn't tell what it was in the dark room. Whatever it was, it leapt at him, but using his quick reflexes, Dylan punched the creature before it reached him.
"Ow! Fuck! Ow!" the thing hissed.
"Huh?" Dylan held up the dim lantern again to see a very skinny boy in nothing but a dirty, ragged loincloth and a matching cloth around his head. The boy had long tangled hair and looked as if he hadn't bathed in ages. Upon closer inspection, Dylan noticed the boy had long, sharp claws on his hands and feet. The boy whipped his head around to face Dylan, barring his sharp fangs that were surprisingly white. Dylan jumped back. The cloth around the boy's head covered his eyes. "A-Are you okay?" Dylan asked. Blood dripped from the boy's nose.
"Fuck you!" the boy growled.
"Excuse me? You just tried to attack me!"
"Well, no duh! That's what I do!" the boy showed his claws and hissed.
"Oh my God. When's the last time you've eaten? You're skin and bones. Not to mention, you reek."
"Wha?" the boy cocked his head, confused at Dylan's underwhelming reaction to his presence and appearance.
"This won't do," Dylan set the lantern down and dug through one of his bags. "You need a wash." Dylan pulled out some soap and shampoo and walked over to the boy. "Come on. Let's get you washed up."
"What?"
"Upstairs. To the bathroom. Let's go."
"Hey! Leave me alone! I swear I'll rip you open and eat your organs!"
"Cute."
"Cu-? What? I am not cute! I am Ahriman, the demon that haunts this house! And I will not- Hey! Put me down!" the boy yelped as Dylan picked him up and carried him upstairs.
"Ugh. This bathroom is disgusting," Dylan set Ahriman down and tried the bathtub faucet. Nothing. "Hey, oh-so-mighty demon that haunts this house. You don't happen to possess the power to give us running water, do you?"
"Pfft," Ahriman snapped his fingers and water began pouring out of the faucet. Dylan scrubbed the tub out as Ahriman watched curiously. Once Dylan had decided the tub was clean enough, he plugged the drain and filled it with warm soapy water. He stood up and turned to the boy.
"Get in."
"What?"
"Get in."
"No."
"Get in! You reek!"
"So!?"
"So help me, Ahri, you will get in that bathtub!"
"No! And don't call me that!"
"Get in the fucking bathtub you little runt!"
"Don't tell me what to do!"
"I swear to God I will shove you in there if you don't listen!" Ahriman froze.
"Do not carelessly throw around such powerful names."
"Huh?"
"God is the most powerful being in existence. Do not use his name so thoughtlessly."
"...Get in the fucking tub."
"Fine! Gosh! You win! I'll get in the fucking bathtub." Ahriman grumbled as he got in. If he was being honest, the warm, soapy water felt really nice. Dylan pulled a stool over and grabbed the shampoo. "What are you doing?"
"I'm going to wash your hair, but with how gross and tangled it is, we might have to cut it."
"Don't you dare," Ahriman seethed. Dylan reached for the cloth wrapped around Ahriman's eyes, but Ahriman grabbed his arm.
"Come on. It's dirty, and I can't wash you all the way with that on. You'll feel a lot better once you're clean."
"Who said I don't feel good?"
"Ahri."
"Don't call me that," he hissed, but he slowly let go of Dylan's arm. Dylan slowly untied the cloth and removed it from Ahriman's eyes...Well, where his eyes would be. Dylan was shocked to see that Ahriman had no eyes, but empty sockets with long gashes down his face. Dylan got Ahriman's hair wet before he added in the shampoo. He did his best to detangle and wash his hair before grabbing the soap and a rag to start cleaning Ahriman's face and upper body.
"I think I'll let you clean the rest," Dylan stood up and placed the rag on the side of the tub. "While you finish up, I'll make you some food." Ahriman perked up. Dylan walked out and Ahriman continued to clean his lower half. After a few minutes, Ahriman walked downstairs, a towel replaced his loincloth.