Malefic

This story contains content that many would consider disgusting and inappropriate. If you’ve triggers of any kind from stories with physical abuse, r*pe, gore, s*xual abuse, violence, murder and everything in between, I don’t recommend reading. None of the photos used in this story belong to me, cover included.

Her head was pressed against the cold glass of the passenger seat window, watching rain drops race against the glass. She’d focus on two at a time, letting them disappear beyond her cheek before setting her sights on two more. They hadn’t gone by a house or building for hours, and she grew tired of trying to count all the trees that they drove past.

“Someone’s awfully quiet.” Her father checked in, keeping his eyes trained on the road and hands tight on the steering wheel. “You haven’t said a single word since we left the hotel this morning, Pop.”

“You’re just paranoid because you’re tired, Dad.” Poppy sighed back, not bothering to hide how uninterested she was in conversating.

She agreed to come with him. She agreed to be sent away. “Yeah...” Knowing this, he still insisted on staying up most of the night, posted in a chair that blocked the only way out of their hotel room.

“And besides-” A challenging glare shot in his direction. “I would have very successfully left between one and two forty-three if I really wanted to.”

He didn’t remember momentarily drifting off, and yet his daughter knew down to the minute. From what he saw, she was unconscious from the time she lay her head down until around seven in the morning. “I thought that there was maybe a risk of you going out and-” He hated to say it out loud. The fact that anyone was capable of such horror scared him to the bone, and yet his own daughter was consumed in it. Born with it.

“Do not insult my craft that way.” It really aggravated her when Poppy’s parents assumed she just killed randomly.

Her victims were special.

Beautiful, even.

She was exceedingly picky with who she chose, and everything about them from physical features to verbal interaction were factors that went into each selection made.

“Just-” There was no changing Poppy’s perspective of humans or the value of life that wasn’t her own. She has been this way since she was little after all, and it has only gotten worse with time. “Try to cooperate with the doctors, alright? Your mother and I are desperate to have you back home.”

The fact that he’d really use that woman as a reason to stop was wild to Poppy. She could still see her mother’s face as her father and she walked to the car with Poppy’s luggage. Her eyes red, cheeks wet from the tears she had been spilling for hours before.

“She’s heartbroken.” Father said as he packed Poppy’s belongings in the trunk.

“No point in bringing her up.” Her mother was relieved, and both her and her father knew it.

“Don’t be like that, honey.” She cried that day because she was happy. “Mom loves you.” Because she was free from the longest and only burden she ever had. “Despite everything, she’ll always love you.” And any bit emotion in the affection category that she feels for Poppy was birthed solely out of fear. The fact that Dad could admit it right now and still chose to lie showcased how guilty her mom really was. How ashamed she was of Poppy. Embarrassed.

“Alright.” If he can’t be honest, then Poppy refused to waste her breath any longer.

To her father’s alleviation, the silence that he considered unbearable was short-lived when they came to a gate that was at least two stories high. One of the four armed guards, all wearing bullet-proof vests and helmets, stepped up to the car once it came to a full stop. He revolved his finger lazily, and her father obeyed by rolling his window down.

“State your business.” His voice was threatening, immediately setting her father on edge. “Quickly.”

“I’m here to enroll Poppy Bristol.” He answered, fumbling around to grab Poppy’s personal information. The guard snatched them from her father’s hand once he rounded all of her papers up, strict eyes going from Poppy’s photo to her face in the passenger seat multiple times.

The guard gave a short grunt before handing the papers back and nodding over to one of his coworkers, whom of which pulled a lever that creaked the large gate doors open. “Go ahead.”

“You sure it’s me?” Poppy raised her brows.

“Uh-” Her father’s jaw dropped a little before thanking the guard and slamming on the gas to go through. “Why did you go and do that, Poppy?”

She shrugged, arms still crossed comfortably across her chest. “Just to see.”

“See what, exactly?”

Poppy let a little smile play on her lips. “If he’d use his gun.” She had no respect for anyone that operated those kinds of weapons for fatal purposes; Going through the trouble of murdering someone only to do it quickly seemed like a complete waste to her.

However, there was never a bad time to ensue violence, and Poppy basked in it whether she was involved or not.

The building they had pulled up to was more like a castle. Stone walls, a giant wooden door, long church-like windows with gothic-like images created out of stained glass. More guards were by the door, the two biggest ones standing closest to a well-dressed, middle-aged man with his hands patiently behind his back. His blue eyes were as bright as his smile when they set sights on Poppy, whom of which remained completely impassive to his excitement.

“Poppy Bristol!” He greeted enthusiastically the moment Poppy stepped out of the car. “What an absolute pleasure to officially meet you. Welcome to Draxton Academy.” He held his hand out. “I’m the headmaster here, Christopher Draxton.”

Poppy stared down at his awaiting palm, frowning at it as she kept her own hands tucked within her arms. “I don’t like to be touched.”

“Oh!” He retracted his limb back clumsily. “Your Dad did mention that over the phone.” His attention briefly switched over to Poppy’s father as he came to stand by the girl’s side. “Open your trunk, will you? My men will gather Miss Bristol’s things.”

“I don’t mind grabbin’ them for her...” Her father offered. “Get her settled in and all.”

“Oh.” The headmaster’s eyes widened as if the suggestion had gob smacked him. “Absolutely not. No one sets foot unless they’re faculty or an enrolling student.”

His brows scrunched together. “But- I’m her father.”

“You were.” Headmaster Draxton took a step forward, snatching the rest of Poppy’s files out of her father’s hand with ease. “Until you signed her over to me by bringing her through those gates.” He held the papers up. “Now, if you would be so kind, say your goodbyes and be on your way.”

Usually, her father would argue back with any person that tried to belittle him, even while the headmaster was so annoyingly polite about it. “Pop.” He didn’t this time.

“Yes?” She faced him.

“Be a good girl, okay?” He wanted to hug her. To comfort her. Both of those things are what powered him to lift his arm up with the intention of placing a mitigating hand on his daughter’s shoulder. What made him freeze, as it did many times before, were those eyes of hers. That mesmerizing dark blue with forest green thickly outlining the pupil. A pair that looked exactly like the ones he grew up with long before Poppy was born. “I love you very much.”

She wasn’t mad that he was giving up on her. Truthfully, if Poppy was in her father’s position, she would have thrown in the towel years ago. “Goodbye, Dad.”

Maybe he thought his love had the possibility of altering her ways. That she’d care enough about him to change completely and be the normal daughter that her father and mother so desperately wanted.

“Pop-“ Her dad stopped her from turning away, his down-and-out tone reflecting his failures as he tried to grasp something more sentimental out of her short farewell. “Say something else, please. Anything else then just that.”

He wanted to hear it back, didn’t he? To hear Poppy tell him that she loves him for the first time since this was the last time they’d ever see each other. Unfortunately for him, Poppy wasn’t a liar, and she refused to start now to chip away at the stone of failure that was weighing on his shoulders.

“Well?” The headmaster entertained his own curiosity as he and her father waited for Poppy to speak.

“I never liked being called Pop.” And with that, she slashed through whatever connection was built between her and her father for the last nineteen years.

It didn’t matter to her, anyway.