Chapter Text
…
Screaming.
Sirens.
She should’ve been more aware when an ambulance passed her in a hurry.
“The hell happened here…?” She grumbled, “Hey, Lyn, you mind taking the car and parking somewhere? Daddy’s probably at a bar at this time of day, and as usual, it ends up having to be me who has to pass on a message.”
She stepped out of her car, watching her friend move from the passenger seat to the driver's seat, and pulled off slowly, making a U-turn and leaving.
Great. Just great.
She shouldn’t even have to be here right now; she should be at the mall doing some shopping and getting her and Evan some nice jewelry, but no, her brother decided not stay on the steps. And now some kid is probably dead or something.
Guess the family involved with whatever happened should be happy she’s here at least… It's almost impossible to get in contact with management. One of them’s a deadbeat drunk, and the other is the world’s biggest flake...probably on vacation right now.
She pushed and excused her way through the crowd, making her way to the yellow tape, calling to one of the officers.
He shoo’d her away, telling her that only certain individuals could pass through.
She showed her ID and told him who she was.
He gave her a look.
His eyes said many things. An apology, an awkward feeling, disbelief, pain, everything.
Looking back, she wished she paid more attention to what he was silently trying to say.
He pulled the tape up, allowing her to pass under.
His mouth quivered up and down, clearly stripped for words.
Frankly, she wouldn’t have heard it. She was too busy trying to tune out the grating sound of the ambulance a few feet to her left. At least until something interesting caught her eye.
Was that Michael? In handcuffs? Oh that's hilarious!
If she weren't stuck in this awkward interaction with this police man, she would’ve walked up to him and laughed in his face.
“Ha-Ha you’re getting arrested because you probably got someone killed! I told you that you’d never amount to anything!” She laughed at just the thought.
“Miss. Please, follow me.” He said weakly, “An incident happened, the…perpetrator told us the identity of the victim, but…another confirmation would help. It's…an unsightly look. Besides, we need accounts from some more witnesses and management, you may be of assistance.” He shivered.
“Sure,” Elizabeth nodded, biting back her insensitive thoughts. ‘Why would I be able to identify the victim? Get the family, not me?’ “So what happened, if I may?”
“The victim’s head was…put into the mouth of one of the robots…” He shivered, bringing a hand to his mouth, trying not to throw up. “It short-circuited and bit down.”
“Is the man over there in handcuffs the one who started it?” She sighed, pointing at her brother, who was still being escorted. If she were crazy, she’d almost think those were tears staining his face instead of sweat.
“Y-Yes. That is our perpetrator.” The man winced. “Miss…before you enter….actually…maybe…maybe you should just…not?”
“Excuse me?”
“Listen, I know this isn't really my place to speak…and I-I’m new to this whole police thing, but…the sight is horrible. It's…It’s really bad…I’ve already thrown up once.”
‘I can tell. Would it kill you to take a step back?’
“There’s blood everywhere, the victim…dear god- the victim…Oh my god…” He breathed. “I…a poor child had to witness it first hand too…you shouldn’t see it. I don't think you’d want to.”
“Sir, I don't want to, but someone has to tell Daddy about the whole thing.” The girl nodded, hints of annoyance leaving her voice by accident. “Plus, I’m already here now, the quicker this gets done the quicker I can be on my way.”
Was she annoyed? Yes.
Michael’s an idiot. What’s going to happen to her allowance now? The kid’s probably dead by now, the lawsuit is going to be fucking horrible…that walking failure just can't help himself but bring trouble to the family.
Now he’s arrested, this is exactly why she can't leave Evan around him!
“...After you,” he nodded, opening the door
‘Yeesh, he wasn't lying about the blood.’
It was everywhere on the stage, especially the thing’s mouth. Ugh, it makes her feel queasy just looking at it. Poor family to whoever’s going to suffer through this mess.
“The victim’s under that table, the ambulance is going to take him after we leave, he’s probably either dead or in critical condition…hopefully he passed quickly.” The police man said. “Miss…if you are who you say you are…then your brother outside– I should probably tell you-”
“He’s adopted.” she lied, reflexively rolling her eyes as she heard ‘brother’, “That one was an idiot, I’ll face the family for him. I’m better with people anyway.” Elizabeth sighed, taking slow steps toward the stage to steel herself for the sight.
“It’s not that- it’s-”
That shirt…
No, that’s not right…?
That's…
No, no, no wait-
“I’m being told the victim and perp are…related…”
Shut the fuck up-
What?? Wait- hold on-
Wait- this is moving too fast…
Who is this?
That’s not-
No, that’s not-
Who is this?
Who…
What…?
What The-
Nearly tripping over a chair and falling into the pool of blood, Elizabeth rushed to the horrible sight.
Her breath felt hot, her tongue ran dry, her body was cold…so cold, her hands fell into the blood, coming back stained red.
Red.
Everything was red.
What the fuck…
What the fuck
What the fuck
What the fuck
What the fuck
What the fuck
What the fuck
What the fuck
What the fuck
What the fuck
What the fuck
What the fuck
WHAT THE FUCK?!
She didn't realize she wasn’t breathing until she nearly fainted from a lack of air.
“WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED HERE?!” She yelled, her throat aching as it passed any volume she ever raised it to.
“I-I t-told you! The victim-”
“'EY! 'EY!! EVAN!!!” She yelled, shaking the body. Bringing her hands back to her mouth to swallow her spit-up.
“I-...I don't know who this is.” She muttered, turning away from the ‘victim’
“Miss…”
“No-no-no, I-I don't know who this is. I don’t. My brother responds to his name. If this kid didn't respond, he’s not my brother. I can't identify this kid.” She sniffled, gathering her stuff and helping herself up, failing grandiosely as her knees gave out. “I have to go find my brother.”
“Miss…please…”
“DON'T FUCKIN' TOUCH ME! I’LL SUE Y'ER ASS DOWN TO HELL!!!”
“…p-please, just…”
“NO!!”
Elizabeth looked back at the ‘victim’ again.
‘Evan's’ head was beyond split open…she could see bones sticking out…an eye looked as if it was missing… ’Evan's’ other eye was wide and unfocused. She remembered reading once that the pupils could enlarge during serious head trauma, and she could barely make out any of the green in ‘his’ eye. It was swallowed up by the blackened pupil.
She put her bloody palm to her mouth in disgusted shock, the taste invading her tongue by accident, making her throw up.
This is just some other kid.
Some other family’s problem.
Not hers.
It doesn't matter if his hair was the same as hers.
It doesn't matter if he was wearing the exact outfit Elizabeth saw her brother wearing when she last held them in her grasp.
It doesn’t matter if his wrist held the same bracelet with small flowers and beads switching from green to scarlet every other time that her wrist did.
It doesn't matter.
She has her brother to look for. She should go.
They’ll be in touch with the managers soon.
This…
This isn’t her problem anymore.
“Where’s his other eye…”
“It… wasn't in the corps- body… when I looked. We… probably have it for evidence. If not ...I…I don't…” he stammered, still looking toward the wall.
Without another word, she placed her palm on the victim’s blood-covered face, the familiar thought of her brother’s soft skin and perfectly fitting cheek…
“I…I dunno' who this is…” she muttered to herself, repeating the phrase over and over and over as she brought the body close to her. Hugging the limp “body” with a tightness she was foreign to. Not yet even repairing her fake accent.
“Miss…please. Can you confirm the identity?”
“I...cannot.”
…..
The police man escorted the young lady out of the building, a jacket over her shoulders and aimless direction in her step, following directly behind the rushing emergency responders. Eventually, they took off to their ambulance, hoisting him up and putting him in the back.
She was told that, due to needing as much space as possible and the child’s condition, she could not ride with them. She was instructed to follow behind and go to the hospital in her own personal vehicle if possible.
Her eyes were hollow, her ears were ringing, she felt like her heart was ripped out her chest and stomped on. Her mouth wreaked, she could smell it as she breathed out her mouth.
She saw a little girl wrapped in the shiny gray blankets, covered in blood similarly as Elizabeth now was. Poor thing was bawling her eyes out. Probably traumatized, a good day interrupted.
the sun was bright and setting over the mountain ranges of Utah, yet...it felt gray to her. it felt as if it was pouring, as if the skies were overcast horribly, crashing down on her.
Where is he.
Where is the murderer.
Where’s her brother’s killer?!
She looked around, scouring as hard as possible, seeing him in a police car with his head down through the window.
She ripped her hand out of the policeman’s light grasp, running to said car with enough force that her feet began to scream in pain with the heels.
She banged on the window, screaming bloody murder to her heart’s content, repeating the word: Murderer. As that's what he is. What he’ll always be. Her eyes burned, not knowing if it was the tears or the pathetic sight of the piece of garbage in front of her, only protected by the window separating the two.
Choke him.
Stab him.
Cut his throat.
Tear his teeth out.
Intrusive thoughts pooled in her mind, her rage fueling her assault on the glass, keeping herself stuck to the floor as more and more police workers tried to pull her away from the car.
He never even bothered to look at her through the window and meet her eyes.
He just kept his gaze to his feet, more tears falling down his face.
Each tear only fanned the fires of her anger, emboldening her bloodcurling screams, amplifying her anguish.
She needed to break that window, pluck his eyes out with her nails.
Rip his tongue out and force him to choke on the blood.
Anything. Anything at all that would kill him slowly. Anything! ANYTHING!! She was coated in blood, head to toe, what’s more to add.
The police were forcing her to calm down, and by now her friends had come too. She only began to see them when she was forced into her car, she was forced into the back, two sets of seatbelts crossing her chest, her breathing being limited by the tightness.
Olivia was waving her hands in front of the eyes of her friend, only worrying more when she didn't get a response, only a dead-fish eye’d glare.
At least the screaming had stopped, but the pouring felt like it was continuing...
…..
She was forced to sit in a waiting room. The stares of many lingered on her. Why was nobody else looking as beat up and emotionally strained as she did?
There was even a mother playing with a young baby. She looked as happy as could be. How rude. Does she not think of the people who may not have that privilege anymore before prancing that baby all in everyone else's face?
Olivia sat on her right, placing bandaids over her thrashed and bloody nails, Lyn was talking to the desk manager.
Between her and the pinkette, no words were exchanged, just worry-filled glances from the girl, and winces of pain from the ginger.
If Olivia were to speak, she’d probably get maimed, so it's for the best.
…..
Visitors were not allowed.
Not today, at least.
They were the last to leave.
The ginger was mostly tamed by now. Her anger was replaced with a void of nulled emotions, as if a black hole seeped the light from her eyes. Not enough enough left in her soul to maintain her bitchiness.
She was escorted to her car by her friends.
She was led to the back seat, with Olivia sitting right next to her. The passenger seat was completely empty, with Lynda driving out of the hospital’s parking lot.
She didn't go home today. She couldn't.
She stood on the porch of Lynda’s home, being held up by the pinkette, forced to wrap her arms around her shoulder.
Her legs felt…like nothing, so maybe it’s for the best.
Her mom answered the door with a scream. Being moved aside by her daughter, pleading with her to understand the situation as fast as possible. Her dad witnessed everything, running out of the room to get a towel.
She was allowed to stay for the night. She was to share a room with Lyn, with Liv staying over for extra emotional support.
She refused dinner.
She was placed in the family’s bathtub, her clothes being stripped away by her friend’s mother, folded, and kept away from the white rug on the floor.
There was no reaction to the pelts of water that smacked against her skin, nor to the soapy foam that coated her body as her friend’s mom wiped her body down, scrubbing hard on the palms and knees to rid the gossamer of scarlet spots of blood from her skin. For some reason, watching his blood leave really hurt her. It was as if his essence was being scrubbed away…
For the first time in a while, tears left her eyes again. Her body went limp, only being held up by the hug she was forced into by Lynda’s mother.
She wished she could’ve drowned under the water instead.
Shampoo was put in her hair, and when the younger girl refused to blink or keep her eyes shut, the mother would simply tilt her head back, doing her best to keep shampoo out of her eyes.
She was stuffed in pajamas that didn't fit well to her body. It felt foreign.
The father carried her to Lyn’s room, tucking her into the bed, with her pink-haired friend following behind, stuffing herself in the bed and taking up all her space.
It reminded her of how Evan would stuff himself into her bed when his sleep terrors would attack, wrapping himself in her arms for safety, silently weeping into her neck.
Olivia wrapped her hands around her, whispering “Sorry” into her ear until she fell asleep.
The pinkette had no idea how badly Elizabeth wanted to harm her for that. No idea. If her nails weren't so deformed and broken, she would’ve pinched and scratched her until she saw blood.
Maybe even force her out of the bed and place all her weight down on her, sitting on her hips and wrapping her hands around her neck. And just sitting there, until someone stopped moving.
That sounded…horrific. Why would that invade her mind…? Why would it tickle her hear and dare to make her feel warm inside…?
Lyn followed in an hour later, silently lying on her floor, not making a word or complaint about her new sleeping situation.
Liz stared at the ceiling, her mind empty and quiet. When a memory of her brother would assault her mind, she’d bite her tongue. Hard. Whenever a thought of harming her friends would play, she’d feel a weight be relieved for a miniscule second. Many times in the night, she’d be kept up by the metallic taste and painful stinging in her mouth.
She tried to hold her breath. For as long as she could. Intentionally.
It didn't work; she’d always lose, coughing harshly with beads of spit and blood leaving her mouth.
She eventually tried to cut her wrist with her nails, but either she didn't want it enough, or the bandaids were protecting her delicate milk colored skin..
All it caused was simple pain.
She didn't want to be in pain. She wanted to just be done. Big difference if you ask her.
….
“Breakfast is ready?” Olivia sighed, still dressed in her outfit from yesterday. “I’m going to go home when you’re finished eating, I’ll tell my parents what happened, and you can stay with either of us. I’ll make sure of it.”
The pinkette placed a plate of waffles and eggs in front of her.
She didn't move to eat. She just stared at the wall in front of her, not looking to the side, even when her best friend talked.
“Please, eat.” She whimpered, turning away and walking out the door, unable to keep looking at the sight in front of her.
She didn't move to eat. She only glared.
….
“Liz, come, we’re going to walk to Liv’s house, and you need some air.” Lynda whispered, helping the ginger out of bed, and putting on her favorite pair of outside slippers on her feet.
She didn't have a choice in this regard, but she was half guessing that Olivia’s parents didn't believe her when she told them why she didn't return home yesterday.
So she was about to use her friend as a museum exhibit? Was her name going to be “Dead brother”?
The walk was long. Partially because her legs barely moved between each step.
She could tell Lynda wanted to say something, but for her own good, she held her tongue.
She just…needed a while.
When they finally reached the door, they rang the doorbell, being answered by an angry-looking bald man.
His face softened when he caught wind of the ginger girl.
He invited them both in, whispering to his wife, “Maybe they weren’t lying…”
She wasn’t even covered in blood anymore…did she just look that bad?
No, it was the news…she caught wind of the TV relaying the breaking news, talking about it like it was an…accident. What will happen to him when the news moves onto the next story…? Will he permanently be forgotten..?
The three girls stayed on the family sofa for an hour, Lyn explaining what happened to the two married people, no lies escaping her mouth. That’s a first for them…
They nodded in silence, each giving the sight for sore eyes a single “sorry”.
….
They escorted her home, opening the door for her and helping her to the couch. They called the hospital for her, asking if a visitation was okay by now.
For the first time, the teenage girl got up on her own, and everyone sounded happy by the time the phone was hung up.
“You can visit, do you want to go now?” Oliva’s mom asked.
Yes, she responded, running upstairs to her room and fixing her appearance to the best she could manage. To appear as if she hasn’t been drowning in an ocean of apathy and sorrow since the shock settled itself into her bones.
….
The adults in the room talked with each other as Elizabeth sat with her brother, his eye finally closed, and the other wrapped in bandages and gauze.
She overheard a few buzzwords like “coma” and “critical”, but it only made her feel worse, so she eventually tuned the conversation out.
“What’s your thoughts on a glass eye?” She chuckled, “you’re probably going to need one y’know! You’re going to look so cool with that scar, Vie-Vie! Oh, but if you don’t like it we can just put makeup over it and nobody would know the difference!” She rambled, talking to the air as she tapped her fingertips against the bed frame, a wide smile on her face as if nothing happened.
Listening to the metronome-like beeps from the machine with a smile. It soothed her, she’d inhale at the sound of one beep, and exhale at the other. It helped her pretend to have everything under control.
God, school’s going to be such a war zone…they must know by now she’ll be coming in vulnerable…
“I wonder who’ll try me first,” she giggled, “Gwendolyn’s been up my ass for a few months now, if she has the balls she’ll try me. But I’ll just release how poor her family is, and everyone will eat that up instead! Courtney wants to be me so badly, she’d kill to have what I have…but then again, her boyfriend’s been cheating on her for a while, that’ll set her straight if I just tell her in front of the entire cafeteria…”
She continued to think out loud, laying her chin on his shoulder as she detailed to the comatose boy her quick-fix solutions to keeping everyone in place.
After all, it is the ringleader’s job to make sure her performances do well.
“You have no idea how much work it is to keep the show going, Ev-ie, I know I said good luck with that crush of yours, but watch out when it comes to girls, some of them can be two faced,” she sighed, “don’t worry though, nobody plays with an afton, much less my younger brother.”
…
Apparently, her father was contacted not too long ago and visited before she could. From what she heard, he left as soon as he came. She assumes he’s up to his head in paperwork for the murderer. What a pain he came in the moment she stepped out, she would’ve liked to ask how the trial is moving.
He'd better get as many years as possible.
She’ll testify for that if needed.
Anything to keep him away.
She never wants to hear that name or see that face again.
She knows the password to the safe…her dad told her what it was since she was the “responsible child” in his eyes. If she’s called to court for testimony on manslaughter instead of endangerment and attempted murder, she’s bringing the weapon, and unloading it into him as many times as possible before she’s stopped.
At least the man left Evan’s bear, she hadn’t half the mind to even ask if he would like anything from home since everything started. Then again, he’s going to be out soon, so the bear will do some good luck trinket until then.
…
Dear Diary,
03/XX/63
Olivia’s mom told me it would be smart to write down some things while I’m home, something about keeping myself busy.
I’ve yet to be to school since the whole thing started, it’s only been two days yet Lyn’s been bitching to me about damage control and the looks her and Liv have been getting since I’ve been gone.
Which, fair, when the main attraction is gone, it’s probably going to inspire some to think they can handle the role. I salute them, at least they think they can try me. They don’t know how much I see.
They’ve never felt it. Not at all. The rush of being on stage, the countless eyes, the measuring. Some move out of my way instinctively, some don’t and wave. I’ll smile at them, let them think they can be something if they just trust me.
They’ve never experienced constant counting. Every room I enter, I need to know how many are around me, I need to be able to know how many eyes are on me, even the ones I don’t stare back at. These are the things you need to know. How to make someone happy, how to make someone cry, how to make someone trust you. How to make a lot of people trust just you.
Never let them get close though, no. The closer someone thinks they can be to you, the more special they think they are. That’s when it’s a duel, a stand off. Whoever attacks first will win.
Don’t get shot in the gut, because you stood too close.
Never stand too close. You’ll never see the light of day again.
…
Dear Diary,
03/XX/63
3 days since that whole thing
Today, that brown skinned girl made a visit.
The company wasn't horrible. In fact, it was rather nice. Someone who shared grief, instead of someone looking at her with an unsure feeling. Sure, I would’ve rathered it be anyone else, but now’s not the time for petty cat fights. Especially not the place for it.
We didn't speak to each other, even if she didn't have a horrible first impression, I wouldn't have spoken. It’s truly nothing personal.
Today I tried to see if maybe I could stay.
I couldn’t.
I’m in my car writing this, the parking lot is quiet, kind of like home, but the silence is different.
I think it’s because parking is meant to be silent, my home is not. My room should be filled with laughing, gossip, and fresh drama cycling. It’s too quiet in that house. Far far too quiet.
I asked the front desk lady if I could stay just to avoid it. My make up’s non-smudge, and everywhere I could buy something cheap was closed by now, so I had to improvise. I expected her to say yes the first time, because who would say no to a young woman wanting to stay with family? It happens all the time in movies, the side role wakes up while the lead role is sleeping in the room, and everything is fixed.
So when she said no, I had to pretend to cry and beg, I licked my fingers and ran them under my eyes, using my hair to stop her from seeing me as I dipped under.
I could tell it was working, I just needed to push a little further. I offered my bank card and went to my knees, a little bit unsightly for my standards, but would’ve been worth it had it worked.
I hope she feels good about herself, making me cry in there.
What a jerk.
I’m all he has, so what if I’m not 18
Releasing a sniffle and blinking the thick and wet build up out of her eyes, Elizabeth closed the tiny red book, throwing it into her purse along with her favorite pink pen.
She had only started writing because it was too hard to see the road with her eyesight so hazy from crying.
She pulled over many times that night, hyperventilating into her hands before she would thrash in her purse, pulling out the diary just to scribble words and uncontrolled lines into the pages until she was able to calm herself down.
….
She unlocked her door and walked into the home, just standing in the warmed house.
No “welcome home”,
No hug at the door,
No new late-night movie suggestion,
Nothing to do.
So she just stood there.
And stood,
And stood,
And stood.
She eventually walked to her kitchen, pulling out a knife from the drawer.
She looked at her reflection in the shiny metal,
Her eyes were hazy and dim, her hair was a mess, her makeup was crusty and streaky from her weeps
….no smudge my ass…
She quietly placed the knife back in its drawer, swallowing to herself.
If he’s alive, then her being dead wouldn’t do anything but traumatize him. So that will have to wait. At least until she knows what’s next.
The house is quiet. She felt like she shouldn’t even be here.
She undressed herself and walked to the bathroom, turning on the water and hopping in, deciding a bath was much needed.
Her vision would flash with memories of the past, before she set boundaries about bathing together, where he’d be playing with one of those squeaky ducks as she washed his hair, cooing to him about how he should grow it out like hers and then bleach it. How pretty he would be with long hair. How similar they would look.
He was born with dark brown hair, and Micheal always had him wear it so short, it looked criminal on his face honestly. Not when they looked so similar, every day someone would ask if they were twins, she couldn’t have him wasting that away with Micheal’s mediocrity? Not when he could shine bright!
Those memories felt like a stab to her heart.
…
Over the span of a week, she ignored school, putting all her time into visiting her comatose brother and writing the things nobody gave her the time of day to say in her diary.
Her time has been put to better use, figuring out how they’re going to leave. He has a choice in this matter no longer, and experiencing being home alone these days was enough evidence to her that there’s no longer any reason to stay. Wherever she goes he’ll be, it's simply safer that way.
She brought magazines of models, telling him all about the pretty ladies and who’s outfits looked nice and who’s didn't. She borrowed an atlas from the hospital’s community book collection, pointing at multiple different countries and how nice they sound.
“I could be a model in France, I bet the fancy stuff over there is good, right? Oh, but their food kind of sucks…What about maybeeee…Italy! Doesn't that sound fun? Do you think we’d have to learn the languages over there to go to school? Oh but the rooms would probably be so nice too!” She smiled. “I’ve been thinking, and we could share a room if we tell our roommates our deal, and they’d probably not want to sleep around foreigners either, right! After that we could move the beds, and reorganize the room to be just like at home! Think of that! A mega-bed! A mega-desk too! Oh that sounds like so much fun! We just need to be able to get into a college together!”
Her grades have always been perfect, so the thought of being denied didn't even pass her mind, and she could apply to multiple scholarships in order to alleviate the cost of being an international student. Honestly, it doesn't matter; she’ll find a way. But they’re done with Utah. Done with it. Done.
Whenever she was hungry, she’d squeeze his hand and step out, going to a nearby eatery and bringing the food back, moving her chair further away from all the equipment and him at the discretion of the nurses.
Sometimes when his friends would stop by, she’d take that as an opportunity to go and bring everyone back food. This has probably been the longest she’s gone eating pizza and junk food with nothing healthy. Totally gross.
It's fine, she’ll diet and whatnot when everything blows over. He’ll probably be a little winded at home, so she’ll have to be the one to make dinner for a while…which is totally not the move…he cooks better.
Daddy even visited once more, staying to check in with her and his child, his expression unchanged the entire ten minutes he was there. He said some random bullshit about putting him back together.
That angered her.
It angered her a lot.
….
He was pronounced dead.
She was there.
She was woken up by the flatlining sound.
They ushered her out of the room, ignoring her wailing.
There wasn't anything she could do.
That helplessness stuck with her for a very long time.
….
She had finally returned to school, not the same person she was the last time she was there.
She followed behind her friends quietly, angrily. SEETHING.
The principal came to the intercom during the third period, exposing the entire situation, and calling for a moment of silence. Everyone looked at her for the rest of the day.
Teachers and students alike just told her “Sorry”.
She needed to escape from it. She’s not orchestrating anything, instead, she’s been made the newest circus attraction.
Come one come all! See the girl who was too out of it to remember to set her concealer! See the “mighty” Elizabeth Afton fall just like the many before her. Revel in her sorrows and karma!
She could hear the snickering, the murmurs and itty bitty whispers of those who didn't have the balls to say it to her face.
She left class without asking, and without being stopped either. She walked around aimlessly, finding her way to the bathroom, needing to be away from people. Just for a while.
She met a familiar face in the bathroom, as if it were a habit, a smile was drawn on her face. A real one.
For the first time since he passed, a smile was on her face.
She was given a new reason to go to school.
For weeks, her only motivation to get out of bed was to torment that blonde haired girl. To give herself someone to share her pain.
When she was at home, she’d wallow in her sadness, invading her father’s liquor cabinet, locking herself away in her bathroom's filled tub until her skin began to peel and ache of dryness, keeping the lights off, hugging her knees to her chest, her mind pleading for her to kill herself.
When she was at school, she’d scour the halls for that blonde girl, whispering eerie words in her ear, polluting her brain with similar thoughts of her own.
It didn't matter where she was either.
She could be at her locker, she could be in class, she could be eating with friends, she could be eating on the roof, she could be hidden away in a bathroom stall, she could be walking home, she could be at her club, she could be in the stairwell, she could be in the janitors closet, she could be at the nurse’s office, it. Doesn't. Matter.
All it took was one singular “Can I talk to you in private, for a moment, Vanessa?”
It felt nice to share.
It felt nice to look at her poorly covered wrists and see something not even Elizabeth herself has.
Why her? She’d ask herself sometimes.
Why not? She’d reply.
She’s cute, and by now she’s probably happier than Elizabeth is. That just won't do. Didn't she say karma would get her? Well… look who’s being gotten now.
….
Tired.
The pain is too much.
I beg and plead for it to end,
For it to leave me alone and stop trying to pull me down with it.
Why? Why do I have to put up with this?
What did I do to the world?
I'm tired. Life is tiring.
I want to be left alone, but they just won't avoid me.
They? No. Not them. Just one.
I’m done.
It’s time for me to leave.
If you ever want to know who was to blame,
Blame Elizabeth Afton.
This is a ******* note. She drove me to this.
Fuck you, Elizabeth.
Mom, please, take care of the snowflake, I love that bunny, but I can’t stand this anymore.
I’ll miss your red eyes, snowflake, they were always so bright.
-“Vanny”
Elizabeth sighed as Lynda read the note to her over the phone, now in their senior year.
She bit back an awkward chuckle, not knowing what to say.
Should she feel proud that she lasted longer than Vanny?
Well, it doesn't matter if she shouldnt, because she does.
“I told her to blame only herself,” was the only thing she could say before the line cut off.
She was hung up on.
She’d become more and more reclusive. She gave up on going to school, gave up on her future. It just doesn’t seem so far away anymore.
With her being named on that note, she doubts it would be long until some legal action is made or whatever.
She heard of her father’s new advancements in the entertainment scene, which disgusted her even more than her current situation.
Apparently, one was made with her likeness.
She wanted to see it. Break it. Leave that for him, as a repayment to never being there, and especially not being there when it mattered.
Maybe that's why he forbade her from ever visiting. Maybe he knew she was feeling…vindictive.
But she refused to listen to him. She really wanted to see it, let it be the last thing she sees, and breaks.
Her reputation was gone,
Her friends were gone,
Her future was gone,
Vannessa probably succeeded in killing herself by now, even if the smallest part of her heart hoped that Vanny lived. She can’t believe she just admitted that..
Who cares about all that? More importantly, her brother was still gone.
His birthday passed not too long ago. She baked a store bought cake that day, but when she realized she hadn’t touched it a few hours later she threw it away. If she wasn’t going to eat it, literally, nobody else would.
“Li-Li” She could still hear, his perfect voice not only bringing waves of memories but fantasies of the future. A happy future. The one that could’ve been.
One where he was alive and well, a few scars and maybe even an eyepatch, but happy.
One where he’d run to her and give her a bright-eye’d hug when she opened the door to their dormroom, or one where he’d sit next to her in her college classes even though he shouldn't be there in the first place. Maybe he would’ve stayed in touch with that Cassidy girl, maybe something genuine could’ve come from that.
One where she could’ve explained what a lesbian was…and that he could greet a girl she brought home with open arms and his perfect smile. Or where he’d be in the crowd, yelling her name with his small stutter and western accent in an auditorium full of Italians, waving energetically as she walked the stage with her blue cap and gown.
One where some little adopted child would call him Uncle, and he’d raise them high into the air, playing with them until they both fell asleep, maybe even with her future wife in the background smiling too, all her loved ones…there.
This is the complete opposite…
If he was watching over her, this sight must be pathetic; he shouldn't see her in this state anymore.
She wanted to show him this robot, show him that she was right. That her father and brother were horrible, and that she was the best fit to be his protector.
Who continued to make robots more advanced, when your SON was killed by one?!
She never found out the person or reason he was at Fredbears to begin with. Although with that guilty look that Cassidy girl would give her sometimes when they passed in school, she naturally assumed it was her.
She’s lucky. She would’ve been her next target, but driving his crush to ******* probably wouldn’t be forgivable by his standards, so she was let off the hook.
Which meant everything was over. She’s done. Just like Vanessa said in her note, “I’m tired.”
Does she have the right to quote that?
Probably not.
….
She ran her fingers over the smooth metal, impressed with the shiny look and probably revolutionary wiring.
She breathed out a “wow”, not knowing how to break the thing now that she’s here. She should’ve brought a bat…but then again, she’s too weak to use that bat and actually break something…
She refused to eat properly for weeks, suffering from self-induced anorexia nervosa. It took all her energy to even stand sometimes.
When the machine whirred to life and looked down at her, Elizabeth smiled, decided to leave it alone, do the job at home, and be done. She got herself a capsule of random pills. She doesn't really know what they do, but an overdose is an overdose.
Maybe she should write a note, too? She can’t do anything to him anymore as he’s imprisoned, and the gun she was looking for was mysteriously gone, but…whatever, Blaming him will have to do, blame Michael…that still sounds nice.
More specifically, it sounded nice. Past tense.
A metal claw launched toward her, taking her aback when it caught hold of her.
The machine smiled.
It opened up its chest and belly plating, multiple spikes, reminiscent of a medieval iron maiden device, it gleamed as the arm pulled her in, giving her enough time to scream only a yelp before locking her inside and impaling her with several thick metal spikes.
Blood poured out from the gears of the machine, staining its metal coat and feet, dripping from the plating and to the stage.