Chapter One
DISCLAIMER
: This chapter includes violence, trauma and mental health issues. Read at your own risk.
~~~~~
2015
QUILLENBURG, SOUTH MALCYNIX
□ ◇ □
I was no stranger to the monsters underneath my bed.
I very well knew what it was like, to face the devil and crumble under his torturous demands. But I never gave in.
Until it started to overpower me, my mind and my soul.
At first, I knew I needed to fight it. I just didn't know how. But then day by day it grew on me, and it became a part of me until it fully consumed me.
And I knew who I was meant to be.
"Please...please don't kill me..." She whispered while backing against the red streaked wall. Her golden locks were sticking to her dirt covered cheeks, hands bloodied and body shaking as she sat between two fresh corpses covered in their own blood.
"Darling I don't kill." I stepped over what was left of the disembodied corpses scattered on the pool of bright red liquid spilled on the floor. It wouldn't have happened if they had just listened. They chose their fate. I am not to blame.
"If I killed you, that would be
too
easy." I say as I grip her chin and stare back at those teary eyes of hers. She was only a child. Innocent, young, and free. Probably lived with caring parents and lovable siblings. Might've had plenty of friends and a normal life. Which is why she needs to die. This situation alone could change her young heart. It could morph her into the darkest creature to ever walk the earth.
"And there's nothing fun in easy." She's just a girl. Just a child.
And so was I.
No, no I was a bomb waiting to explode. And I destroyed everyone and everything I ever loved.
I snap out of my thoughts when I spot movement from the corner of my eye.
Rolling my eyes, I sigh. They just never learn, do they?
I point my gun at their leg and pull the trigger twice. Screams of agony echo in the living room of what was once a happy home.
"I've been through hell and back. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that they don't kill." I shrug my shoulders whilst I blow the smoke coming out of the weapon and face the terrified goldilocks.
"They punish. And since darling, experience is the best teacher...." For a brief moment I contemplate my decisions. But then looking around me, all the lifeless bodies, the hopeless cries, the somber setting of it all.
"I don't kill, I torture." Focus, Mercedes, Focus. Don't let emotions get the best of you.
"Why are you like this?" She spoke in a voice so soft it was barely a whisper.
"How does an innocent child turn into a psychotic serial killer, you mean?" I took a deep breath and drew my vision to the bloodied floor. Another deep sigh. She's the only one left. She'd be the first and the last to hear my story.
"Well, little girl," I pause and squat in front of her. "She was lost."
"She didn't know where she was. A family adopts her, the dad is an alcoholic and the mom is a two-faced sociopath." Even with each word I speak, there's no sign of pity in those emerald green eyes of hers.
"Y'know why I did this?" I point to all the dead bodies sprawled on the floor. The girl doesn't answer. Instead those once frightened eyes have turned darker, angrier, filled with so much fury.
"Because blood must have blood."
"Then do it." She hissed.
I stared at her for a few minutes. I took in her heavily hooded eyes and furrowed brows. I took in the purple marks on her cheeks and the fresh cuts on her chin. What was this heavy feeling in my chest? Why did I feel like this was wrong? Is this what normal people call 'guilt'?
Nodding my head, I place my thumb on the trigger and....
No. No something's not right. I squint my eyes and focus on the girl's face. Just in case, I press the tip of the gun on her forehead and keep my thumb on the trigger.
Harshly, I grip her chin and turn her head to the side. My heart stops beating, my breath caught in my throat. So close to breaking down because just a few centimeters below her right ear is a small thorny rose with a snake around the stem tattooed on her skin.
No. No no no no.
I snap out of my thoughts when I spot movement from the corner of my eye.
Rolling my eyes, I sigh. They just never learn, do they?
I point my gun at their leg and pull the trigger twice. Screams of agony echo in the living room of what was once a happy home.
"I've been through hell and back. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's that they don't kill." I shrug my shoulders whilst I blow the smoke coming out of the weapon and face the terrified goldilocks.
"They punish. And since darling, experience is the best teacher...." For a brief moment I contemplate my decisions. But then looking around me, all the lifeless bodies, the hopeless cries, the somber setting of it all.
"I don't kill, I torture." Focus, Mercedes, Focus. Don't let emotions get the best of you.
"Why are you like this?" She spoke in a voice so soft it was barely a whisper.
"How does an innocent child turn into a psychotic serial killer, you mean?" I took a deep breath and drew my vision to the bloodied floor. Another deep sigh. She's the only one left. She'd be the first and the last to hear my story.
"Well, little girl," I pause and squat in front of her. "She was lost."
"She didn't know where she was. A family adopts her, the dad is an alcoholic and the mom is a two-faced sociopath." Even with each word I speak, there's no sign of pity in those emerald green eyes of hers.
"Y'know why I did this?" I point to all the dead bodies sprawled on the floor. The girl doesn't answer. Instead those once frightened eyes have turned darker, angrier, filled with so much fury.
"Because blood must have blood."
"Then do it." She hissed.
I stared at her for a few minutes. I took in her heavily hooded eyes and furrowed brows. I took in the purple marks on her cheeks and the fresh cuts on her chin. What was this heavy feeling in my chest? Why did I feel like this was wrong? Is this what normal people call 'guilt'?
Nodding my head, I place my thumb on the trigger and....
No. No something's not right. I squint my eyes and focus on the girl's face. Just in case, I press the tip of the gun on her forehead and keep my thumb on the trigger.
Harshly, I grip her chin and turn her head to the side. My heart stops beating, my breath caught in my throat. So close to breaking down because just a few centimeters below her right ear is a small thorny rose with a snake around the stem tattooed on her skin.
No. No no no no.
"Crabbit" I mutter. The dim room explodes with bright light, or at least that it the illusion of her spell. She grabs both of my wrists and whispers indecipherable chants under her breath. Soon unbearable heat seeps through my wrists and I'm screaming in pain.
I bite my lip and force the tears back inside. Crying is weakness. Crying is weakness.
"Should've known you're a frickin' witch." I snapped. Should've killed her right away.
I knee her in the stomach, freeing my wrists in the process. I swing my fist on her face and the crack of a broken nose echoes in the air. She instantly elbows my ribcage but does barely any damage at all. When she tries to go for my cheek, I duck and grab hold of her legs, throwing her on the ground.
She sits back up and desperately catches her breath. I dig my knee in her abdomen and grab her by the hair.
"Not so tough now are ya?" I sneer and pull her hair like pulling grass. I lost my gun when she burned my wrists, luckily that's not my only weapon.
I pull out a silver dagger from my belt and hold it close enough to cause a scratch from the slightest movement.
"You'll never win." She chokes.
"You'll never succeed." I raise a brow and push the dagger a little deeper into her skin.
"What are you saying?" I question.
"He will find you. You will suffer, and no one's going to save you." Her breaths have begun to slow and black spider web marks climb up her neck. A sign that a witch was about to spiritually hibernate.
"They'll, they'll never....believe you." She whispered before the twisted lines fully covered her face and the rest of her body. Her eyes turned white and her lips sealed together. She wasn't dead yet. Just, asleep. And she will be for a long amount of time.
I still need her. I have to know what she was talking about. Who was coming for me and when?
You can't wake up a witch once they've gone into spiritual hibernation. Either they have to wake themselves up or the Elder Witches unbind them. But if you're just a normal human being, there's nothing you can do.
Taking a deep heavy breath, I pull her body up and drag her to the bathroom. I'll come back for her once I've got a safer place to hide her. For now, I escape.
Vesuvial Witches are banned from all of South Malcynix. They burned the Royal Family's castle and cast a month long pandemic that killed a hundred thousand Malcynixians including the Queen. Most of them were hung in Brenwick Hill, some escaped but lost their powers after the graveyard of their ancestors were burned. This one just happens to still have hers for whatever voodoo magic law that falls in. Now they've been entering the country for the past five weeks and who knows what stinky ritual they're planning this time.
The question is, if this is one witch, where are the others? Or did I just massacre an entire coven of witches without knowing it?
I approach one of the dead bodies to see if they had the same Vesuvial mark on them, but loud siren noises interrupt my mission.
I have to run.
~
I'm a woman of many things, but running is my weakness. I slide the heels off my feet and rest my sore back on the soft mattress. Looking up at the floral decorated ceiling, I frowned. I can't stay here for long. The guards are gonna find me and once they do, I'll be taken into custody. My judgement will be worsened ten times, possibly be transferred to death penalty. The longer I stay here the more I put Kaleighna in danger.
Speaking of which, a soft click followed by heavy footsteps enter my room before coming to a halt.
"Why are you here!?!" A high pitched shreak known to be my darling teenage sister's voice disturbs my train of thoughts.
"Why else do you think?" I lazily answer before pulling the covers around my body.
"Don't you dare ruin those sheets with your filthy body." She complains, pulling the glorious sheets away from my body and hitting my face with a pillow.
"Fine. I'll take a shower." I mumble whilst scratching my neck. I sit on the bed and look at the frowning fifteen year old with pouty lips and electric blue eyes glaring at me.
"What did you do this time? How did you escape? Where are you gonna hide?" Question after question, I ignore her and go straight for the bathroom. I lock the door, pull the curtains, and strip myself of my clothes.
As I turned on the shower, I lean my head against the tiled wall. I'll worry about finding the witch later, right now I had to plan my escape route. By now all of Quillenburg knows that I'm inside their territory and for sure the guards are already guarding every exit and every major building.
It's not like I haven't escaped prison before, but back then security wasn't this tight. The cemetery? I'd doubt it. I've used it way too many times for my many escapes. For sure the guards are already out there.
Unless I checked out the abandoned city? That would be a good place. I've never gone there before and I don't think there'll be anyone there. I'll bring extra knives just in case.
I close my eyes and rinse my hair out, wash off the blood trickling down my legs, and let the tears silently mix with the warm water.
"Crying is weakness. Emotions are weakness." I whisper between shaky breaths as the echo of my mother's words scream like storms brewing in my head.
"Do you know what makes a person weak, Mercedes?" A gentle irritation in her voice as she wiped the butcher knife with the wet cloth.
I didn't answer. Instead I kept looking at my feet and scratched my thumb repeatedly.
"Feelings." She spat. When her eyes met mine, I flinched and bit my lip.The dark shadows that rested above her high cheekbones made her look even more intimidating. When she started walking towards me, I didn't dare take a step back. Even though I could've escaped.
"The more feelings you have, the softer you become. The softer you become, the weaker you are."
"And no person in our bloodline is as weak as you."
"There's no escaping you, is there?" I mutter. She's always going to be there. Always going to haunt me no matter how hard I try.
I sniffle and turn off the showerhead. I'm not even part of the bloodline anyway.
I step foot out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my hair and body. Looking around this room, so many memories pop in front of me like a slideshow. Was I about to get emotional? Of course I wasn't.
Everything was still the same. Scribbled drawings were still taped on the walls. Amateur paintings pinned on my closet, and old plastic barbie dolls sitting on the dresser.
I open my closet and slid on the yellow tank top and matched it with baggy washed out pants. I checked underneath my bed and smiled when I saw my favorite old school sneakers.
"There's no escaping you, is there?" I mutter. She's always going to be there. Always going to haunt me no matter how hard I try.
I sniffle and turn off the showerhead. I'm not even part of the bloodline anyway.
I step foot out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my hair and body. Looking around this room, so many memories pop in front of me like a slideshow. Was I about to get emotional? Of course I wasn't.
Everything was still the same. Scribbled drawings were still taped on the walls. Amateur paintings pinned on my closet, and old plastic barbie dolls sitting on the dresser.
I open my closet and slid on the yellow tank top and matched it with baggy washed out pants. I checked underneath my bed and smiled when I saw my favorite old school sneakers.
Actually it's the only pair of shoes I have. Heh.
Time for the hair. Honestly combing my hair is the worst part of the day. It takes me half an hour to get through all the knots and another fifteen minutes of me applying hair softener. Ugh.
I grab the brush with a huff and began to slowly comb through the damp waves. Brushing my hair was like raking the front lawn. It would get tangled so easily so I'd have to go through the process all over again.
Why couldn't I just have bone-straight hair instead?
I groan and apply the hair softener between sections of my hair, making sure that I get every single spot. When I look at the mirrored image of myself in the mirror, I saw a girl who had dark circles beneath her eyes, who had dead-pale skin and chapped lips, at the girl who had had faint scratch marks above her cheeks, and to the girl who's done nothing but go in and out of prison since she was sixteen.
She tried imagining herself without the scars. Imagined herself with a healthy face and without her ribcage peeking from the skin beneath her chest. Envisioned herself wearing nice clothes and a smile so bright her eyes turned to crescents.
But then she realized, that those things will never happen. She wasn't sitting on God's favorite high chair now was she?
All she could do was play the role of the villainess, and wait for some hero to step on her and eventually kill her. Did she so badly wait for that day to come each minute of her life? Yes? No? Perhaps. Maybe...maybe so.
If ever that day does come, then seventeen years is enough.
I blink in confusion when a voice coming from the distance loudens.
"Hey! I said I'm going to school. I'll be home by three. Oh! And Atticus said you can't stay here so you should probably go liiiikke now." I turn around and see a grumpy Kaleighna squinting her eyes at me. I must've drifted off....
"Whatever." I respond then grab the hair dryer and start blowing my hair. I don't listen to whatever she says next and instead focus on getting my hair ready. I should at least make my hair look decent, that way people will pay less attention to my dreadful face and ugly body.
"Oh and one last thing," She says batting her bald lashes at me whilst smiling sweetly. "Stay out of my room." The blonde threatened and slammed the door after.
Once I'm done drying my hair I reach for my back pack which lay above my closet. It was dusty and the zipper was broken, but nonetheless it was still handy.
I lifted the thin mattress of my bed and sighed in relief when I found all my darling precious babies still shining and in place. Beneath the mattress were dozens and dozens of different glamorous sharp weapons embracing me with warm welcomes.
"Time to pack." I say to myself as I picked up the knives and wrapped them all in the covering of my pillows. This won't be the last time I visit this place, but I'm gonna need more gear considering Jamaica's killer is still out there, partying and getting drunk on whiskey and probably dancing on Jamaica's grave.
I swallow hard and close my eyes, waiting for the tears to sink back in. Jamaica's death won't be taken lightly, I'll make sure of that.
I stuff the knifes in the backpack and hide it inside the closet. First of all, I'm starving, Second of all, no one else is home. That leaves me with all the food I can get. No way I'm wasting that chance.
But when I step foot out of my room, something else comes in mind. Just a few bedrooms across mine was a large door with caution tape all over it. I blink in confusion and walk towards the door. I knew the door led to the attic, but why was there caution tape?
Maybe because it's, I don't know, dangerous?
Shut up.
I stare at the door for a few seconds before slowly walking over there and opening the door. My heart started thumping loudly in my chest. I could feel the hairs on my arms rise and this sickly feeling swimming in my stomach.
This eerie feeling sinking in my chest. There was no good amount of words to describe the anxiousness I felt when I began climbing up the ladder.
The last time I went here, things didn't go well and now I'm visiting this place again with the same disturbing feeling I had years ago when the ghosts of my mind played with my reality.
'Oh dear, not the attic. You know what happens in the attic.'
'Yes. Go inside child. Don't be afraid. You've come this far haven't you? Go on, look back on us. Look back.'
Sinister laughs and high pitched voices invade my head as I continue to climb up into the darkness. By now, I was way high up and no shadow of light could enter the long tunnel. There was so little space, my back was nearly touching the walls. There was no light, not even a sliver of it.
It was maddening, claustrophobic and traumatizing. At least for me... it is.
'Hey Mercy, wanna know a secret?'
Ignore them. Ignore, ignore, ignore.
'Can she see us? You can see us right? Right Mercedes?'
Move faster. They'll stop once there's light. I tell myself those words repeatedly, hoping it'll block the voices out. I move faster until I reach the small entrance of the attic and pushed it open.
Fountains of sunlight bless my eyes and I exhale in relief, resting my body on the dusty wooden floor of the attic.
It takes me moments before I finally catch my breath and will myself to sit up and look at the place.
Thin silky lines of cobweb attached on the wall, broken windows, disordered boxes with their contents sprawled everywhere. Filthy curtains that most probably haven't been touched in years, and worst of all, dried cat feces littered on the floor.
I shudder and scrunch my nose from disgust. They really couldn't bother cleaning up the place, huh?
I stroll inside the wide attic with no aim whatsoever. I spent the rest of my hours there twirling and daydreaming of a life I couldn't have.
Opened up boxes, smiled at old memories that came along with every broken toy, and every picture frame. It all seemed surreal that all these memories happened years ago. And all those years, Everything was still normal.
And everything was going well until the last box. It was larger than the others and had a letter S written on paper tape. Suddenly the room was darker. Breathing was harder when the unbearable heaviness climbed it's way into my soul. Everything was slowly getting blurry and just like that, I wanted to disappear from existence.
I wish I never existed at all...
I swallowed the lump in my throat and clenched my teeth hoping I could bite back the tears. Don't you dare cry. Don't you dare.
Once again I was reminded of my useless existence. Guilt came rushing through my veins, and to my brain I let the voices cave in. I let them stay. Because this time they were right.
'How could you do that to him?'
'Aw look, she's about to cry.'
'Don't you feel the least bit of remorse? Why are you even alive?'
'When Gid was creating you did he forget to throw in in the reject pile?'
"Shut.Up." I sobbed. "Just shut up." I whispered and forced myself to open the box. Inside were a pair of baby blue shoes the size of my palm, a tiny t'shirt and pants that could've only fit a toddler.
And underneath that was a picture frame of the most precious child in the entire universe.
His small chocolate eyes smiled at me with so much happiness, so much innocence. He was holding his chubby arms towards me as if to embrace me. I wanted to release the pain, but emotions are weakness.
The excruciating, tormenting pain deep down in my chest burned as I caressed the boy beneath the glass frame.
"I'm so sorry..."
"I tried, I tried so hard....to keep you, safe." I stutter. There was no point in hiding the tears now. Because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't do it.
Just like how I couldn't save him.
I couldn't save my baby brother.
Sinister laughs and high pitched voices invade my head as I continue to climb up into the darkness. By now, I was way high up and no shadow of light could enter the long tunnel. There was so little space, my back was nearly touching the walls. There was no light, not even a sliver of it.
It was maddening, claustrophobic and traumatizing. At least for me... it is.
'Hey Mercy, wanna know a secret?'
Ignore them. Ignore, ignore, ignore.
'Can she see us? You can see us right? Right Mercedes?'
Move faster. They'll stop once there's light. I tell myself those words repeatedly, hoping it'll block the voices out. I move faster until I reach the small entrance of the attic and pushed it open.
Fountains of sunlight bless my eyes and I exhale in relief, resting my body on the dusty wooden floor of the attic.
It takes me moments before I finally catch my breath and will myself to sit up and look at the place.
Thin silky lines of cobweb attached on the wall, broken windows, disordered boxes with their contents sprawled everywhere. Filthy curtains that most probably haven't been touched in years, and worst of all, dried cat feces littered on the floor.
I shudder and scrunch my nose from disgust. They really couldn't bother cleaning up the place, huh?
I stroll inside the wide attic with no aim whatsoever. I spent the rest of my hours there twirling and daydreaming of a life I couldn't have.
Opened up boxes, smiled at old memories that came along with every broken toy, and every picture frame. It all seemed surreal that all these memories happened years ago. And all those years, Everything was still normal.
And everything was going well until the last box. It was larger than the others and had a letter S written on paper tape. Suddenly the room was darker. Breathing was harder when the unbearable heaviness climbed it's way into my soul. Everything was slowly getting blurry and just like that, I wanted to disappear from existence.
I wish I never existed at all...
I swallowed the lump in my throat and clenched my teeth hoping I could bite back the tears. Don't you dare cry. Don't you dare.
Once again I was reminded of my useless existence. Guilt came rushing through my veins, and to my brain I let the voices cave in. I let them stay. Because this time they were right.
'How could you do that to him?'
'Aw look, she's about to cry.'
'Don't you feel the least bit of remorse? Why are you even alive?'
'When Gid was creating you did he forget to throw in in the reject pile?'
"Shut.Up." I sobbed. "Just shut up." I whispered and forced myself to open the box. Inside were a pair of baby blue shoes the size of my palm, a tiny t'shirt and pants that could've only fit a toddler.
And underneath that was a picture frame of the most precious child in the entire universe.
His small chocolate eyes smiled at me with so much happiness, so much innocence. He was holding his chubby arms towards me as if to embrace me. I wanted to release the pain, but emotions are weakness.
The excruciating, tormenting pain deep down in my chest burned as I caressed the boy beneath the glass frame.
"I'm so sorry..."
"I tried, I tried so hard....to keep you, safe." I stutter. There was no point in hiding the tears now. Because no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't do it.
Just like how I couldn't save him.
I couldn't save my baby brother.
