Archive of Our Own

He was only fifteen years old, and he had survived another month of torture. Another endless month where all he wanted was for death to finally take him. Blood abounded, staining walls and chains. They were all dirty, and the smell was intoxicating. Food was scarce, rotting, and sometimes accompanied by maggots and other scavengers. Still, they tried to ignore the crunching sounds when they ate them, with the insects still in there. They could not waste anything; it was all they had. Death, though, would perhaps be a relief, a respite, and an end to all their suffering, yet humans tend to fight till the end, even when there is no end.

They just wanted information, they had said, as Ripley, the cruelest woman he had the disgrace to meet, slit her little sister's throat in one swift movement, leaving her to choke on her own blood. He watched as the little girl fell to the ground, eyes wide with sheer terror, falling to the ground and putting her hands on her neck, trying to stop the bleeding, but it didn't matter. With her eyes still open, she began to cough violently and fell to the ground, dead. She still had fear in her eyes, even when the life left them. She was only six years old. She deserved a life, a chance, something more than this cruel fate. 

They would let them go as soon as they finished their experiments, they had said, while his two remaining brothers were taken away from the family to be locked up in an experiment room. It was not isolated; they heard their voices from outside. But the two children did not hear the outside voices from inside. So the days passed, and they were not fed, nor could they hear the words of the rest of the family in an attempt to encourage them, to give them hope. They listened to their cries, their agonizing cries, both starving and desperate to get something in their mouths. Each cry pierced their hearts, but there was nothing they could do. Their parents tried to keep them from being heard, but they were too loud. No one slept, and the children were still not fed. Finally, one night, the screaming stopped. No one could sleep for weeks. 

They just needed cooperation, she told him, as she stabbed him mercilessly in the chest, already covered in scars, some open, some already closed. Anna was obsessed, and he knew it. The way she acted, the way she always got too close to him, the way she stroked his hair before plunging the blade into him again. And that made him sick. To know that she enjoyed his screams, his cries. That she loved it. 

It was for the greater good, they had said. It would save millions of lives, they had said. It was to finally find a cure, they had said. To save and heal all those who, for the past year, had been turned into these cannibalistic creatures whose sole purpose was to devour. To prevent it from becoming a pandemic, to prevent an apocalypse.

They said it would all be over soon. That their family had special genes that could end it all at once, and they believed them. It was a good deal. A harmless dinner to discuss the use of small family blood samples for the greater good with a loving married couple of doctors who came along with their scientist, a bold-looking young woman. Three angels in a world that was starting to become hell. 

But they lied. The Briarwoods were demons, not angels. The worst of demons. So was Anna. And you must not make deals with demons. 

In the end, only he, his mother, his father, and his two sisters were still alive. 

One night, they were all taken to a new cell. The walls were covered with moss, as if no one had been there in years. There were faint sounds outside, grunts, and there was a metal door with several bad locks. They could break at any moment. He huddled with his sisters in a corner. Vesper was stroking his hair with a blank stare, too tired to say anything, but her gaze never left his parents, discussing with their captors. While her father and mother, who was still wearing the dress from that dinner, once a lovely green, was now a dirty colour, a mixture of dust, blood, and the stains left behind after she used the clothing to clean the children's wounds, spoke for the first time in a long time, directly to Delilah. 

‘W-what?’ He heard her plead with terror in her voice. ‘Delilah, you can't do this to us. Please. Just- leave the children. They haven’t done anything. Please.’ She begged again. 

‘Oh, of course we can do this. And, the children, you say? We couldn’t care less. Anna, dear, let them in.’ She waved her hand, and Ripley nodded. She approached the door with slow but sure steps, clearly enjoying the children's growing expression of concern, and how the parents looked at each other, silently questioning what to do next. 

‘Anna, please don't do this to us,’ his father tried to say, but Anna already had her hand on the handle. The door opened with a loud creak. At that moment, they disappeared. He didn't even know how; there must be some hidden exit, but he couldn't think. Nothing would ever be right again.

Chaos. Panic. They were inside.

And between the fear, his mother's screams, and his sister's expression as she lifted Cassandra, he saw only one thing.

Their smiles.

They were smiling as they watched the last moments of despair of a broken family. And they were smiling.

He didn't remember much about the incident. In general, his childhood was a blur. His brain had erased much of it in an attempt to combat the trauma. But, God, he remembered their screams. He remembered how those creatures devoured the flesh of his loved ones, how their teeth pierced their skin. It had stuck in his mind. 

‘WE HAVE TO GO!’ his sister shouted as she grabbed his hand. Their mother had been quicker and already had a tearful Cassandra in her arms. A glass was heard breaking. There was a way out, a chance. But not for her. 

Vesper was grabbed by one of the creatures that had now invaded the room. She fell to the floor and let go of its hand. 

“DON’T STOP RUNNING!” His mother shouted, her voice breaking, as she struggled to avoid the creatures trying to eat her. 

“NO!” He screamed.

It was just a dream—the dream that always haunted him. Cassandra was there, sleeping softly, hugging her plush. Keyleth was also there, snoring softly. They were fine, they were all fine. 

He decided to go for a walk, as he usually did when the past came for him. He got his gun and his emergency knife. And some water. And some food. And he grabbed the sketchbook, pencil case, the lantern, and the–Well, he packed as much as he could carry. Then, he went outside holding the knife. He made sure the girls didn’t hear anything. They panicked easily, especially when he disappeared in the middle of the night.

The night was clear, and the moon shone brightly. He headed to the dead city, as people called it. He called it Whitestone. He used it to call it home. But in the end, it was just a rich city, completely destroyed, but it was as beautiful as he remembered. He wandered through the streets. The local park where all the kids went to play, once filled with laughter, was now completely empty, except for a corpse. At that point, the corpses weren’t something special anymore. They weren’t people with their own lives. Just lifeless bodies that hopefully wouldn’t stand up again. 

The swings' steel chains were missing. Someone must have cut them and sold them to some merchant. Everything could be traded in that sick world.

He heads to Archie's house.

Archie died four years ago. He remembers trying to find him after the initial chaos, only to find him dead, mutilated. He remembered trying not to cry because of all the zombies around them. He couldn’t make any noise, or he would share the same destiny as his once-best friend.

He walked past Archie’s house and stood there for a while before continuing his way. 

He saw the fountain, the place where he used to play with all his friends. The sunny days of summer when they threw each other water balloons, the warm days of spring when they made flower crowns. And the snowball fights in winter.

He missed them. A lot. He missed being a normal kid, having friends, and not having to fight for his life every day. But it was time to keep moving. 

They eventually made it to safety. 

The months that followed were the worst of his life. He was only sixteen, and Cass was twelve.

All his siblings were dead. All of them. His dad was dead too—only he, Cassandra, and their mother. Finding food was difficult, and Johanna hadn’t had a meal in a long time. She always prioritized the kids. 

It was late at night. Only Cassandra managed to fall asleep, while Percy and Johanna were still awake. The woman was trying to bandage one of her wounds with a ripped piece of fabric from her dress. 

“Mom? What are you doing?”

Johanna turned aggressively, scared, but it was just Percy. His hair had already started turning white. He had always been a pale kid. Sometimes, she feared he got lost when he played in the snow, and they couldn’t distinguish him from the white outside. But all the trauma just made him worse. 

“Oh, Percival. It’s okay. Come here, and help me bandage this.” She said, trying to hide the pain from the wound. He nodded and approached slowly, feeling something off about his mother. He checked her arm.

Holy shit. His eyes widened, but he attempted to hide it, not wanting to worry his mother.

It had a notable bite. It seemed rotten. It was dark red, with bits of condensed blood and a small trickle of a dark, viscous fluid running down her arm. The bruise looked like a dog bite, but it shouldn’t be reacting like that. The flesh around it was turning black, giving the wound a necrotic look. He could see various red marks. The teeth of whatever wild thing had bitten her. The edges of the injury seemed raw. They had a thin layer of whiteish pus, and the skin around it was turned unnaturally, and, in general, the bite had a putrid smell. He felt nauseous just looking at it. But she insisted that it was nothing, and, after all, she was the adult there, wasn’t she? She was supposed to know what to do. So he frowned but said nothing. He preferred to help his mother. He put the fabric around the wound carefully but applied pressure. She flinched and hissed with the searing pain of the sudden contact. It was hurting her, increasing the agony with each heartbeat, as if the wound attempted to consume her.

“Maybe we should cut the arm off… It seems infected.” He murmured, completely serious. His mother laughed weakly, taking it as a joke. 

“No, it’s okay, sweetie. I’ll be fine.” She said, caressing his hair.

After that, he looked through a wooden wall with several pieces of wood nailed to it in a desperate attempt to prevent the zombies from entering. 

He stared at the fountain.

“By the way… Honey.” 

“Yes, mom?” He asked, turning his head like a curious deer. 

“If something happened to me… I need you to promise that you will take care of Cassandra.”

He was startled for a moment.

“I promise.” He still looked confused. “But nothing will happen to you, right?”

She smiled again. “N-no. Nothing is happening to me. I just need to make sure that you will protect her.”

She ruffled his hair, making it messier than it was before. 

“Moooom!” He said, pouting, a bit annoyed, and she laughed. Everything was going to be alright.

Percy sighed, holding his necklace. Oh, how he missed his mom. But that was the past. He had to move on. He looked at his clock, handmade. He still had some time. When he was younger, he wanted to be a clockmaker. Silly childhood dreams. 

At that moment, he heard groans and slow steps followed by the usual putrid smell. 

Shit. Fucking walking corpses—could this night get any worse?

He hid behind a wall, although it wouldn’t help. They had great smelling and hearing senses, and it would be too dangerous to use the gun, as it would only attract more of them. He sauntered, trying not to be heard. After a tense moment, he was out of sight, and he could continue his way. 

The market wasn’t far from there. He checked his bag. He didn’t have much to trade. 

While walking, he recognized the streets. There used to be a supermarket nearby, where he usually bought groceries with his older sister. He would probably find something to eat in there if he were lucky enough, and maybe even something to trade. He took a detour and headed to the abandoned place. When he finally found it, it was in the exact state he expected it. He stayed still, trying to hear if someone was there. A minute passed, and the place was still silent, so he started moving. He grabbed his knife tightly. It was pretty sharp. Sharpening it was one of the things he did unconsciously when he got nervous.

He noticed a sick smell. A rotten smell. He wasn’t alone. 

So he also prepared the gun.

Guns weren’t common in those days, so having one was an immense advantage. At the start of the crisis, some people thought they were the best weapons to carry, but as they started to die due to the loudness of the gunshots attracting zombies, they became obsolete. He started to move. If Keyleth or Cassandra woke up without him being there, they would panic. Holding the knife, he grabbed one of the closest zombies and tore his neck gracefully, making sure it didn't make a noise. Luckily, it didn't. He kneeled and left the corpse on the floor. He walked quickly through the supermarket's aisles and shelves, grabbing some cans, hoping they weren't expired. If he was lucky, they might have something good to eat tomorrow. 

Moving carefully, he located the exit. Various zombies were there. The creatures were in an awful state. One of them was missing the jaw but still maintained its teeth. Another one had one of its arms half ripped apart, held together by only a filament of flesh. When he was about to leave and find another way out, he noticed why there were so many zombies. They were eating. The bodies were of two young men; he couldn’t quite distinguish their faces, but he was sure they were having their limbs eaten by the creatures. If he had found the same scenario five or four years ago, he would have screamed and probably puked. But the scene was terribly common. He couldn’t quite see their faces, but one of them had an engagement ring on its finger. If he managed to get the zombies to go away, the ring would be a great trading offer. No merchant would decline such an amazing offer. He hid behind the cardboard of some cereal company mascot and grabbed an empty can from the floor. 

And he threw it. And then he prayed. 

And, as it always happened, his prayers weren’t answered. Instead of running towards the can, the zombies turned to him. 

“...Ngh!” He groaned as one of the zombies threw itself on top of him. 

Sharp, blinding pain. The zombie had gone for the neck, claws piercing the skin, and had ripped off meat. The blood ran down his chest, but he had to react if he didn’t want to be eaten alive. In the chaos, he managed to grab a bottle of wine and broke it on the creature’s head, causing it to screech with pain just in his ear. It was deafening. 

Using one hand to clutch his bleeding neck, he reached for the knife in his backpack and finally snatched it just in time to slay one of the zombies' necks, making it bleed darkened blood with traces of gelatinous pus. Of course, it didn’t kill it, but it was enough to pull the thing away from him. He sank the knife into the zombie’s shoulder, shifting his weight in an attempt to dodge the grip of the thing, but it still managed to scratch him with its sharp nails, leaving a scar on his cheek. Luckily, it would be superficial.

“Oh, aren’t you just so beautiful?” He screamed again, but Ripley laughed and caressed his hair. “You’re so pretty when you scream.”

“FUCK YOU, YOU SICK BITCH!” Percy yelled. It was a big, big error. She didn't like it when he insulted her, but he had just seen another member of his family die.

“Hm. You always make it more difficult than it should be. Though I can’t say I don’t enjoy it.”

Without stopping, looking at him, she got her blade and made a fast cut in his face that went from under his eye to his chin, opening a straight line in his lips. He tasted the blood. 

Great. The scar on his neck had reopened. He desperately needed to go to the market. “That’s it.” He pulled out the gun and shot the thing in its face, blowing it and splashing his face with blood. Luckily, it didn’t get in his eye. But the noise had resonated, and it would probably attract more of the undead. So he shot the other one in its leg, and when it was already on the floor, he stepped on its head. After that, he quickly reached for the young men's corpses and grabbed the ring. He smirked. Bingo. Pure gold. He started running as he heard the groans of the various zombies approaching.

“Mom?” He asked quietly, walking towards his mother. 

“Percival…”She coughed and fell to the floor. He tried to get closer to her, and so did Cass.

“NO! PLEASE, YOU HAVE TO GO! LEAVE!” She yelled, trying to make them go. 

“W-what’s wrong, Mom? Are you okay?” He tried to kneel and help her, but she continued yelling. “Do you need something?! Bandages, food, maybe some—”

“M-mom?” Cassandra murmured, but Percy put her behind him in an attempt to protect her, but he was still petrified with fear. She clung to his leg.

And then she turned. 

But it wasn’t their mom. 

She immediately threw herself on top of him and started attacking him. That thing was no longer their mother. It was a sick being trying to eat them alive. 

Cassandra started screaming as he struggled to get her off, but eventually kicked her face and crawled away, but she just let out a sharp and piercing scream.

“MOM, PLEASE!” He cried, terrified, but their mother’s body was already crawling against 

Cassandra. 

No.

“CASS!”

BANG!

Everything went silent afterward. Only the crickets outside dared to make a sound.

Cassandra stood still, and so did he, dropping the gun. The body of the person who used to be their mom was now lying there, dead. Her own son blew her head. 

“Percy?” Cass murmured. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” He was paralyzed, trembling. She moved towards him slowly and hugged him, and he returned the hug. They both cried for hours, hugging each other. But after that, they had to keep moving. 

The next day, they buried their mom next to the sun tree. Neither of them said a word during that moment. They just stared at the improvised grave, holding hands.

He saw his mother for the last time that day. But she continued to haunt him for a long, long time. The guilt. He still carried the guilt. 

Two months later, it was late at night. Cass was sleeping for the first time in a while. But he couldn’t. He killed his own mother. 

He. Killed. His. Own. Mother. 

He remembered her face at the exact moment she changed. The moment she stopped being his mother, the one who held him in her arms when he was younger, the one who caressed his hair and stayed with him, in his room, when he had a nightmare. The moment she became one of those creatures who had killed hundreds, infecting them. 

And he remembered her face when he shot.  He clutched his hair, trying to drown the voice that was telling him to just grab his gun and end it—

"Percy?" Someone asked with a soft voice, interrupting his thoughts. Cassandra stood at the door, trying to hold an axe that was clearly too much weight for her. She probably had thought he was being attacked. Or something worse. Percy stared at his sister for a moment and then smiled weakly. 

"Hey, Cass."

"What are you doing?" She questioned, her voice barely audible. "You're not... You're not becoming one of those, right?" Cass took a few steps back. He felt like he was dying, but still managed to put a warm smile on his face to comfort his sister. 

"It's okay, Cassandra. I'm not one of "those". Don't worry."

"Are you sure? You… You remind me of Mom right now. You know, how she was acting before… That happened." She still didn’t understand what had happened that day. 

"Yeah, I’m fine. Don’t worry."

She didn't look convinced, but still took a few steps towards him. And then she hugged him. Despite the initial surprise, he returned the hug.

"Y-you're not leaving me, aren't you?"

He ran a hand through her hair.

"I won't leave you...I promise.”

"No! Pinky promise!!" She yelled, extending her pinky. He laughed, admiring how she still had some innocence left, and interlocked their pinkies.

"Pinky promise. I’m not leaving you."

They left Whitestone after that day. Too many memories. Cassandra needed to grow up in a place where not everything reminded her of the torture she had suffered. They left by sneaking into one of the boats of the merchants that usually came to supply the still-building local market. People were adapting surprisingly easily to the extreme situation.

The promise was mostly what kept him alive. He would never leave Cass by herself. He had promised to protect her. He remembered meeting Keyleth, struggling to trust her. She was too innocent, too sweet, too naive for the world they lived in— a world far too brutal for someone like her. Yet, she seemed to know how to defend herself. And that was all that mattered in that sick world.

Speaking of a sick world. He finally arrived at the market. Despite being late at night, it was terribly crowded. Oh, how he hated crowded places. He headed to one of the empty stalls. 

He found himself in front of a rusty stall covered in dark red fabric, dust covering everything. Despite its decayed and oxidized look, Janna’s booth was one of the best in the whole market. The woman, a paranoid veteran in her fifties, had been prepared for an apocalypse for years, and her efforts had given her a privileged place in the catastrophe.

“Excuse me. Miss Janna?” He uttered. The woman attending turned, not even looking at him. “Ugh. What do you want?” She said, but then looked at him. Her gaze softened, but she was still on guard.  And quit the “Miss” thing. Just Janna, De Rolo.” Janna said sharply. He had clearly caught her picking up her stall, so he should hurry.

“Eh, do you have some first aid kits?” 

She sighed, bent down for a second, grabbed something from a box under the stall, and placed two first aid kits awkwardly in front of her. They seemed like good packages. She opened one. It had a wide variety of cures, bandages, and others; they seemed of good quality. "Yes. I have. But I don't have many left, so the price increases. What do you have for me?" The woman said, skeptically.

“Of course.” He looked for the ring in his bag and finally found it. “Here. I think it’s a good offer.” He showed it, and her eyes widened.

“Holy shit. How did you even find this?!” She attempted to grab it, but he quickly removed his hand before she could reach it. 

“Nope. First, the kits.” He wasn’t the best at negotiating, but he had learned something after four years of having to haggle for everything. 

“Fine. But…” She doubted for a second. “This is too much. Don’t you have a sister?”

“Since when do you care about Cass?” He raised an eyebrow. 

“Look, De Rolo, I have a kid and a wife. I also need to survive. So, if you need something else…”

“Can I take those flowers?”

They both stayed silent. Janna seemed weirded out, but she nodded. “If you need them…”

“THANKS!” He nodded and took them in a flash, smiling awkwardly. “Thank you so much, Janna.” And he quickly left, leaving the woman weirded out.

Walking towards the street, he noticed how full the other stalls were. People were shouting at the merchants, and sometimes it was otherwise, forming a general chaos. 

But at least his usual supplier’s traveling stall was empty. He stood in front of it, but the man didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy working on something else. He coughed, but nothing.

“Victor.” Nothing. 

“Victor!” He called, raising his voice, and the man flinched, dropping whatever he was working with. It made a sharp noise. 

“ACK- WHAT-? Oh, Percival! Look what you make me do!” Victor clapped. 

“Oh, sorry, but I—” He started to say, but he got interrupted, ”—The usual? You know, powder, clock mechanisms, and–” 

“I’ll- I’ll just take some gears. Music box gears.”

“Hhm. Alright. I think I still have some… Wait a second.” He turned, and Percy waited there, grabbing his bag tightly, fidgeting, and glancing around. He didn’t exactly like that place; it was dangerous. Too many people, anyone could attack him, too much noise, it made it more difficult to notice someone approaching, and—

“CASS?! CASS! FUCK, WHERE ARE YOU? CASSANDRA!” He yelled desperately. This couldn't be happening. People stared at him, estranged, but he didn't care. He had to find her. He promised to protect her. His heart was beating on his chest. “CASSANDRA!” He shouted again. They were on the market, and while he tried to negotiate for some water, she had suddenly disappeared. In the best case, she would just be lost, waiting for him in some kind of merchant's stall, safe. In the worst case, she would be dead or kidnapped by some of the despicable people who sometimes visited the market. He hated the market; everything was on his way. He tried to find her, screaming her name, but there were too many people. “Please… Cass, where are you?” His eyes were getting wetter. He was on the border of a panic attack, but she was the priority, after all. He was bumping into people constantly and even throwing things to the floor. But he didn't care about how loud the people screamed at him. He didn't care. He just needed to find her.

And somehow, he did. 

After what seemed like hours to him, he heard her voice and immediately ran towards it, holding the knife in case she was being attacked. “CASSANDRA!” He yelled when he finally reached her voice. “ARE YOU–Okay?” His voice trailed off with confusion when he found his sister playing with some flowers in a woman's head while she looked at him with a smile. “PERCY!” Cassandra said, and then she ran to him. He knelt, embraced her lovingly, and then raised her from the floor. 

“Thank god I found you, Cass. I was so worried. Are you okay? I'm so mad right now, I told you not to separate from me, and- anyways, are you alright? Did someone hurt you?” While saying that, he looked at the florist. A red-haired woman with freckles. She seemed friendly, but looks weren't everything. "Did she hurt you?” If looks could kill, she would already be dead and buried. Percy didn’t take his eyes off her. Finally, he put his sister down and slowly approached the woman.

“Who the hell are you?” He asked harshly. Looking her up and down.

“Oh! Hey!” She said nervously. “Are you his brother?” He slowly put down the knife, but he didn't let it go. 

“You didn't answer my question. Who are you? What's your name?”

“My name is Keyleth. And I'mma a florist! You know, flowers and stuff–”

“I know what a florist is. I swear, if you did something to her, if you dared to even touch her…”

“I swear I didn't do anything!” She said, stuttering. 

“She's right! “She didn't do anything to me!” Cass interjected. “She's been kind to me!” 

“..." He stayed silent for a second, clearly not trusting Keyleth. “Fine. We have to go now, Cass. “It's getting late.”

“Oh! “About that!” Cass's face made that expression, and he knew something was coming. “You know, she's also traveling to Whitestone! “We could-”

“No way.” He flatly refused.

“Come on!” She pouted. Keyleth just stood there, watching the strange interaction between the siblings.

“Cass, you just met her. It's too dangerous.”

“But she's a nice girl! Pleaseee!”

He glared at her menacingly. Keyleth straightened, brushing her hair off her face. "I promise I won't hurt her—"

"You better not." He snarled. "Fine. Tomorrow morning, here. Don't be late."

“Here they are!” Victor snapped him out of his thoughts, placed a small bag of what he had requested, and opened it. Percy’s eyes widened, and the spark of his childhood dream of building clocks returned. The gears were perfect. Just what he needed. 

“It’s- It’s perfect! I-” He said in excitement. He reached for his bag again in an attempt to find the ring again, but it was empty. He had wasted it in the kits, and there was no way Victor would give those for free. “...I can’t afford it. I-’Im sorry.” 

Victor smiled, showing his crooked teeth. “No problem, take them anyway.”

“Yes, I’ll leave- What? Really?” His face brightened again. “But those are-”

“Kid, no one buys those. You can take them, something less in the backpack to carry.”

Still unsure, Percy grabbed the little bag. “...Thank you so much, Victor.”

“No problem. Now leave! It’s late, and I’m closing!”

“Yes! Sure, thank you!” He stuttered in joy and left, walking fast and avoiding other stalls. Alright. He had the gears, and Cass’s birthday was in four months. He should have enough time to build her gift, the restored music box their mom had gifted her. He still had the original one, but it didn’t work. He was sure she would love it. 

With everything he needed in his bag, he returned home without any complications. Keyleth was waiting for him at the door, with a frown. "Where were you?" She asked.

"I went for a walk to clear my mind," He explained, before pulling her into a tight hug. After so many years of lamenting the past, he finally had something that kept him bound to the present.

"Did it help?" Keyleth asked, patting his back.

"Yes, I think it did."