⌈ ♡ ⌋ @withalisp, letha godfrey .
it's the middle of the night . there's light snow falling . you're in the grounds of a country estate . there's a lonely feel to the place .
they’d spent the whole day driving, from new york city to hemlock grove, arriving when the moon was eerily high in the sky, hanging over them like an eye in the sky . what had begun as a fun road trip quickly turned to them sitting in her car at the very end of the driveway, request made so the blonde at her side could catch her breath before they continued on . it feels like trespassing, but it’s not . still, she feels a rush of adrenaline when letha slides her key into place, mechanisms moving into place cause the hair on her arms to rise . with a twist of her wrist, the click of it unlocking echoes through her skull . [ she said the doors had been boarded up, that someone had to come out earlier and take them down so she could get in . there was evidence to her claims in the gnarled, hole - filled wood around the doorframe . ] a blink puts her in letha’s shoes, entryway turned to one she’d passed through thousands of times, familiar but different . once lively and warm now frozen in time, draped with cobwebs and new cracks in the walls . she imagines an overwhelming feeling of longing, and suddenly mallory feels like clicking her heels . there’s no place like home, there’s no place like home . . .
she is a ghost haunting the halls of a place she once called home . remnants of her littered in the details : portraits on the walls, a bedroom that hadn’t been touched since the last time she was in it . dust - coated memories, decaying as each member of the house was tragically lost, with less and less care given, this home had begun to crumble . mallory lingers in the doorway as letha continues forward, gaze landing on a crumpled flier tucked underneath old mail . she hesitates before she picks it up, already knowing what she was going to see . remembers them plastered all over town, on every telephone pole and in every window for miles ; MISSING PERSON, with a faded color photo of marie godfrey right in the middle . she tries not to imagine her own face in her place, her information littering the page but fails . she sets the page down with a soft sigh, speed walking to catch up to letha .
❝ . . . how does it feel ? ❞ a question, in truth, mallory doesn’t expect much of an answer to, and as soon as it’s in the air she regrets asking it at all . it breaks the air of silence around them, and as she walks the wood beneath her feet creaking sounds like a reply . habit has a hand raising, lifting a strand of letha’s hair and tucking it behind her shoulder . ❝ are you okay ? ❞
this trip had been a long time coming : the home that she was raised in lay dormant on it’s pedestal - like hill , a relic with stories untold . she’d wondered about the state of it for the longest time --- how many curious teenagers had come to see how the other godfrey’s lived ? if she looked hard enough , she’s sure there’d be a broken window or two . were the walls slathered in the same spray - painted graffiti condemning her family she’d seen at the old mill ?
as they wait in mallory’s idling car , letha can’t help but to think : what was the point in even coming back ? she’d heard all of the stories already , of her parents’ disappearance ( . . . ) of the end of the godfrey reign in hemlock grove . she had no loose ends to tie up , no final stone to be unturned . she was as connected to this town , to this house , as a dog and catnip . she’s in a daze when they finally enter , and this house feels strange and familiar all at once .
from where letha stood , she could see into the backyard , through the dining room and over the kitchen island --- to where an unlit pool lay , dead leaves creating a blanket over the water gone green with algae . she’s brought back to lazy summer afternoons , where all she had to worry about was getting an even tan and what her mother would be cooking for dinner later that evening . she’s pulled into memory after memory , there in the moment as she relives them all . in the silence , she closes her eyes and listens --- really strains her hearing , & it’s almost like she can hear the soft hum of her father’s old record player coming from his office . but mallory’s voice breaks that concentration and bounces off the walls around her head , and suddenly letha can breathe again , evident in the way she lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding in the first palce .
she can’t answer at first , even if she’d wanted to . how could she find the words to describe how she was feeling when she was feeling so much at once ? how was she to pinpoint just one thing for a satisfying enough answer ? ❝ i’m fine , ❞ the smile she gives is reassuring , and after she catches mallory’s falling hand , she gives it a soft squeeze as extra proof . ❝ i just didn’t think i’d ever be back here ( . . . ) they really let the place go to hell , huh ? ❞ a hint of humor the only thing keeping her from breaking down then & there , letha’s smile falters as she ventures further down the hall , letting the hold she had on mallory’s fingers go as she moved forward . ❝ i just want to get this over with . but i guess that’s kinda hard to do when i don’t even know what i’m looking for ( . . . ) we can start with my dad’s office , i guess . if there’s anything important left , that’s where it’d probably be . ❞