Chapter Text
“Listen closely, Elliot, and listen well. You are to never go near Sunny, Aubrey, or the rest of us ever again. You will leave Faraway and never look back as long as you live. Or I’ll make sure you take the front row seat to hell myself.”
All Elliot could do was run amidst the blinding snow. Running against the snow that railed his vision deep within the trees.
He knew what he did, he knew what he had nearly done, and every thought and raving emotion that lingered within his fractionated, disarrayed mind scourged him for what he had almost done. No, what he should’ve done.
There was no sight of the lake now, not where he was going. As far as he was concerned, the only one in the world left was him and him alone.
His friends turned their backs on him at his most vulnerable, deciding to save a child that had wronged. Sinned against nature. The fact that he lived through it all in spite of Elliot’s best efforts to purge the blight at the source was just another test. Another test to see if he was capable of doing what he felt was the right thing. And in his mind, the world disagreed. He wasn’t ready yet, no.
So why was he running?
Why doesn’t he go back there and annihilate the rest of those miserable fools who all stood behind the one who has killed with his own hands? Surely he’d be doing the world a favor.
The bastard’s words rung through his ailing mind, as if it was the only thing left he could ever feasibly think about.
“IS THIS WHAT ELSIE WOULD’VE WANTED?!”
How dare he? How dare that monster speak of his sister? The spiteful bitch that got everything she could’ve ever wanted? Mommy’s little princess. She was nothing to him now, nothing compared to everything his father had done to care for him, even if it sometimes hurt him so much to his core.
He was family, she wasn’t. Neither was his mother. He didn’t run away from him all just because of a simple outburst. He stood there for him when times were tough. Yeah, he knows best for him.
Daddy always knows what’s best…
Ruffling and rustling slithered about from the trees nearby. Footsteps, lots of them. Sirens, howling like the call of the beast, transcending all throughout the holiday night.
He was hearing voices. All surrounding the forest.
To his right, he could’ve sworn he saw his sister. Scrapes and gashes littered her entire body, her dress in tatters as glass littered her legs, sewn into them. Blood coated her body from head to toe as she glared at Elliot.
“His blood is on your hands.”
Elliot froze in his position. The visage of his damned sister veered so close to him. He felt the air asphyxiating him, collapsing every instinct in his body to run. Her mouth opened wide once more, revealing a maw rotted to the bone with glass shards and what carried the fumes of kerosene. With every step she took, bloodied footsteps stained the snow floor behind her.
“His blood is on your hands.”
Elliot was immobilized in fear, AFRAID. The words, among many more, littered his mind as he found his vision begin to blur, ebbing and flowing with what was real and what his mind perceived as real.
“His blood is on your hands.”
No, it wasn’t on his hands. It was what the monster deserved, and they let him get away.
He had heard the stories of its existence, seeping amongst the ranks of his own school, and he knew of its sibling. He was there in the room next door when it spoke of how it killed its own sibling with its hands.
He had to let the school know, alerting them all of its arrival.
So why is he still alive?
“His blood is on your hands.”
Elliot wanted to kill it. Submerge the voice deep within the snow until it couldn’t even moan its last breath. Rip it limb from limb until all traces of it ceased to be. Curse it to a thousand hells until he was given rights to the pearly gates for his efforts.
She was always the favorite. He detested her. He wanted the glory. The approval she got with the wave of a magic wand.
“His blood is on your hands.”
The voices were becoming funny to him. He began to giggle. A strained, agonizing giggle that showed his torment.
“His blood is on your hands.”
The laugh started to form. Yes, his blood was on his hands. Of course. It was funny how good it could’ve nearly felt to see that monster’s carcass sink to the floor of the lake.
“His blood is on your hands.”
He let loose a heartrending laugh, his vocal cords on fire as he grabbed his sister by the neck, strangling her as much as he could. Cutting off the voice from the source.
He felt eyes gazing at him, all of which never ceased their miserable staring. It was everywhere.
He laughed harder, and harder. Until his voice gave way right from under him. He could hear screams and nothing more, crying, sobbing, choking. It was almost the most peaceful ambience Elliot could’ve ever heard. He wanted more. He squeezed harder.
“His blood is on your hands.”
Harder.
“His blood is on your hands.”
Harder.
“His blood is on your hands.”
Harder.
“His blood is on your hands.”
He placed one hand against her head, the other still encroached on her neck, and twisted both, snapping his sister’s neck as the corpse lied there, still and lifeless as it should be. He was ECSTATIC.
Elliot gazed at his hands, trickled with blood that refused to stop flowing down to his arms and dropping amidst the snow near his knees.
He let out the most bone-chilled laugh that he felt pleasured by. It felt so good to rid himself of that nuisance. It felt so good to do right, even if his efforts were never going to be appreciated. He clutched his face with his hands, the blood feeling so good against his flesh. He laughed. Again, and again, and again.
To the corner of his eye, he saw the one-eyed demon that loomed behind him. Staring venomously at him with no expression. Not moving a muscle and yet making his body feel frozen in ice.
He saw something.