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“That’s a righteous reason, she was in pain, you helped her. What I did was a act of a monster."
Mae flinched at the last word.
"Y-you're not a-" they stopped, trying to calm their breathing before it got out of control.
"Not a-" it wasn't working. They stepped back.
"M-monster-" They took another step back.
"Not-" Hands start shaking.
"M-monster-" Breathing was getting faster.
"I can't- I'm sorry-" Another step back.
Tears fell on their still wet cheeks as they backed away, before turning and running off, leaving a man all alone, watching as his group fell apart around him.
Mae ran until they couldn't anymore. Lungs aching and dizzy, they collapsed on side of the road. They lay on their back, staring up at the cuninjured feeling the tears roll down the sides of their face. "Monster," they whispered, caught on the word. "You're a m-monster."
“He’s a monster.” They sobbed into their grandmas arms, shaking. The welts on their back were purple and swollen, painful to touch. She comforted them, holding Mae close. “I know, my sweet,” she soothed, “but you’re safe here, with me.”
The young teen looked up at her through tear filled eyes, “promise?”
“I promise. This is your home Mae, what’s mine is yours.” She smiled gently, wiping away their tears as she cupped their face.
After a long moment, they whispered, “what if I grow up to be just as bad as him? “ Their eyes welling up with tears again, “I don’t want to be anything like him.”
Their grandma sighed sadly, pulling the teen back into a hug, rubbing the uninjured parts of their back as she reassured them. “You’re nothing like him. You wouldn’t hurt anyone just because you were having a bad day. You’re kind and thoughtful and a good kid. A better person then he’ll ever be.”
The memory faded as Mae opened their eyes again, barely registering how dark it was. “Grandma, what if you’re wrong. What if I am just as bad as him? What if I’m worse?” They didn’t notice how they shivered in the wind, the cold from the ground seeping into their body. “I’m scared.”
“I’m scared," they whispered again, another memory forcing its way to the surface.
Kind eyes stare back at them. The older woman held their cheek, wiping away the tears with her thumb. “Mae, I promise it’ll be okay. You won’t be hurting me. You’re helping me.” Her warm voice comforts the teen.
“What am I going to tell the others?” They whisper, voice shaking. Florine had always known the answer to every question, and they were afraid of how much they hadn’t asked. Their hands gripped the blanket, trembling as they watch the dying woman.
“That I passed away in my sleep. You won’t even be lying,” She whispers back. “Just follow the plan, and everything will be alright.”
They nod, placing the seeds in her hand. She takes them, swallowing them with the ease of one who had taken years’ worth of tablets, washing them down with her nightly tea. No fear or regret flashed across her face; instead she looked peaceful, grey hair framing her head like a halo as she laid down. “Stay with me, sweet, and I promise I won’t haunt you.” They gently took her hand, watching as she closed her eyes.
After a few minutes, Mae realise that the raspy breathing stopped. They stood, placing a gentle kiss on Florine's forehead. “Goodnight grandma.”
Mae squeezed their eyes tight, their grandmas last words fading into the cool night air. The chill seeped from the ground into their skin, leaving goosebumps which only grew as they heard a cruel deep laugh. Florine might have promised not to haunt them, but not everyone else was as kind.
"Oh Mae?" a male voice carried down the road as he floated towards where he saw his sibling run. "Where are you, little brat?"
They kept their breathing leveled as they heard their tormentor approach them, hoping he'd leave them alone.
“I know you can hear me, dumbass. Takes more then that to fool me.” Patrick laughed again, floating down to his shaking sibling. “Haven’t seen you in a while,” he continued conversationally, lying on his stomach on the ground next to them. “How’s the murdering going? Still killing beloved family members?”
"Beloved family members, my ass." Mae opened their eyes to glare at him, "the fuck you want?"
“Just wanna have a chat with my favourite living sibling,” He grinned, slowly kicking his feet as he talked, looking more like a teen at a sleepover then a ghost tormenting the living.
"Don't," they said softly.
“Don’t what?” His grin got bigger. “We both know the kid wouldn’t survive this long. If she didn’t run her mouth off all the time, maybe she’d still be here. Or maybe,” he leaned on his elbows so he was leering over their face, “if you had just let dad be the parent, she would never have left.”
"Fuck off Patrick, you don't know jack shit about what happened," they growled, turning away from him.
“I know enough,” he called, slowly floating up and over their body so they were facing him. “I know that you and grandma murdered dad, and you murdered Delphi and Eva and Rowen and basically every other member of our family. Oh!” He chuckled, “remember when you murdered me? What fun times.”
"Deserved it," they muttered, turning his head away, turning to escape.
“What was that? Were you saying how we have such a healthy family dynamic?” He leaned over their face again, cruel dark eyes staring into pained blue ones. “Or were you saying that you deserve this pain you’re so clearly feeling. It’s written all over your face Mae, the guilt, the regret,” he lowered his voice, a filthy grin spread across his face, “the relief.”
Mae stared back into their dead brothers face, a calm sense of anger slowly building up inside them. "You know what? You're right."
He floated back in shock, voice cracking in surprise. "What?"
"I did feel relief. Especially when killing you." They admitted, pushing off the ground so they were sitting upright.
“Of course you did.” He recovered and drifted forward again. “It’s not every day you run someone over and then crush their head with your boot. It must have been so satisfying watching the blood drain from my body.” He traced a ghostly finger along their jaw, a sick smile pulling at his lips. “I’m such a proud big brother. What a wonderful little monster my sibling is. If Juno wasn’t so weak, our family would have been so powerful. The murderous monstrous Parkers.” He spread his hands, parting them like a stage curtain.
Mae rolled their eyes at his theatrics. "We wouldn't be famous. We were just be another abusive family, there's no headline for that."
“I disagree. We’d be infamous, like the Hardy boys or- or the Masons!” He roared with laughter at the idea. “Speaking of, how bout a little family reunion?” Patrick looked towards the woods, grinning as he saw a tall pale figure slowly moving through the trees.
Mae's blood ran cold, eyes looking towards where their brother was staring. An older man, with a beer gut and a unshaved beard, regarding his children coldly, slowly moving towards them.
“Told you what would happen if you started interacting with ghosts again Mae.” Patrick chuckled, eyes gleaming as he watched their father approach the siblings. “This is on you!”
Even though he didn't say anything, Mae started to shake in dread.
They subconsciously began to search for anything to defend themselves with, regret colouring their fear as they remembered their scissors were probably left at the lake, and their gun was left in their car. The road was annoyingly clear of stones or sticks that Mae could use, and they were left helpless on the ground as their fathers angry ghost came closer to them.
Patrick chuckled as he watched his sibling's darting eyes. “Is poor little Mae without any defenses?” He sneered, pulling various weapons from deep within his ghostly pockets. “Wasn’t that one of the first rules dad taught us? Always have something to attack with?”
He pulled out a glass bottle and a knife, rolling them in his hand as he floated towards Nick. They shared a nod, and Patrick threw the empty bottle towards his dad, who caught it with the ease of a long suffering alcoholic.
Mae backed away, scraping skin in the rough dirt, shaking as they began to beg. "Please, dad I'm sorry- I- please- dad-" they gasped out, watching the man causally flip the bottle. Shaky scarred hands partially blocked their vision, raising in a bid to protect their face.
A look of stone cold fury was Mae’s only response, as their dad moved closer and closer till he was almost standing on top of their trembling body, slowly raising the bottle above his head.
"Please!" Their voice got louder as the bottle went higher, almost turning into a scream. "I-i'm sorry! Dad! Please!"
Nick struck down, the bottle going through Mae’s shaking mortal body. He stumbled back in surprise, as the trio had forgotten that as ghosts, he could do no harm to his child.
Mae flinched as they felt the echo of a bottle going through them. Their teeth rattled, hands still shaking in fear.
“Wha- fuck!” Patrick screamed, rushing to kick his sibling. He screamed again when his foot faded through their mortal body, shrieking in anger. Heaving, he watched as Nick let the bottle disappear. The older man stared at his child in disgust, before silently fading back into the woods. Patrick screamed again, an loud echoing sound, furious that Mae was no longer paying attention.
Mae buried their face in their hands, sobs growing louder in an attempt to block out their brothers stupid useless screaming. A canine whine unheard over the sounds of screaming and sobbing.
Patrick faded away, still screaming as two figures ran towards the sound of sobs. From one direction, a dog, a mutt that usually didn't wander far from the safe house. The other, a human, skin covered in wounds that slow a normal human. But it wasn't a normal human, it was infected, blinded to any thought with a virus that caused a cannibalistic fury and left nothing else.
It was the sound of breaking bones and a snapping jaw as the dog tore the forearm off the infected body that startled Mae from their sobs. Grabbing the stick the dog dropped, they swung it around like a baseball bat, hitting it with a solid wack, kicking its knees in. As it fell to the ground, they began to beat it, breaking the stick in the process. They twisted the sticks in their fists, stabbing and ripping into the infected body over and over. All the adrenaline from seeing their father and brother surged through them. It wasn't until it was the head rolled away from its now mangled body that Mae stopped. Panting, knuckles bruised, they stared at the remains.
A whine brought them from their blood lust stupor. The dog held the dismembered forearm in its mouth, blood and rot soaking into its fur.
"Good dog," they murmured. "Help me a little more?"
They moved off the road, kneeling and slowly digging a shallow grave. Mae half smiled as the dog helped them. They dug into the rough ground, adrenaline slowly tapering off. Once it was a decent size, they dragged the mutilated remains to the hole and buried it.
As they walked away from the grave, Mae turned to give it a final look. "I'm sorry," they whispered, slowly walking back to the safe house.