Work Text:
Her fingers hurt, nearly locked, and her hand feels warm – a stickiness spread across her skin, growing tacky as the seconds tick by.
Suddenly, her grip is lost, there’s a clattering upon the floor. As if a click of a lock, everything floods back.
“Mommy?” The voice could barely be recognized as her own at first, a pathetic squeak.
Her legs trembled and she stumbled onto the floor, unable to support herself any longer. Attempting to catch herself, her hands slid upon the slick floor, smearing the remnants of her deed. It soaked into the floors, mingling with the grain of the wood.
“No… no…”
A hand grips her shoulder tight.
“My, my, Mistress! What a display you have created here.” It cooed, its voice making her skin crawl. She squirmed out of its grasp, slipping and writhing on the ground, turning to look up.
It was a strange creature – one that she believed could only be conjured up within nightmares. Her eyes widened, fear apparent, tears welling up in her eyes as she heaved.
“Your Father will be so proud.”
Joy didn’t understand. It was just her and her mother.
Her and her mother.
Her mother.
Her mother’s corpse laid on a few steps away, blood still oozing from the wounds within her heart.
The child closed her eyes, shaking her head, her bloodied hands going to press against her face.
“You’re not real!” She cried out, trying to will herself to wake up – surely she was asleep.
She would wake up and her mother would still be alive – the woman would comfort her and hold her.
This monster before her would go away, only a fading memory.
“Oh, Mistress, please do calm down.” The creature tried to soothe Joy, but she cried out more.
“Go away! Go away! Mommy! Mommy!”
The creature tuts. “I’ll leave you be for now, Mistress, but soon you will learn to accept your gift.”
Time passed.
She wasn’t sure how long, but her sobs echoed throughout the room. Slowly, Joy moved her hands down, feeling as though she was going to be ill.
Standing once more, she moves - in a near catatonic state. She washes her hands at the sink, using the cloth there to wipe her face.
Then Joy makes her way to her room, stripping herself of her blood soaked dress and changing into a more acceptable one.
Making her way out, the child couldn’t bear to look inside the kitchen.
“It… it wasn’t me…” She whispered to herself, as she walked outside, making her way to the only other house she knew.