Chapter Text
It was a cool night, the wind whistling and causing the trees to knock against the window. Daniel lay in his chair, unaware of the noise as he dozes, a bottle resting at his feet from when he dropped it. An angry expression was plastered over his face, assuring anyone foolish enough to disturb him that they would regret it. The house remained otherwise silent, as if even the mice in the walls and the crows in the yard knew better than to disturb him.
In the house also resided the man's children. He, claiming to be a religious man, had named the boys Isaiah, Jacob and Noah, respectively. They, much like their father, rested in their beds and hopefully dreamt of better worlds as opposed to the nightmares they witnessed. Their mother had once told them, before passing away shortly after Noah's birth, that dreams were meant to be a reflection of their souls and that they should keep them happy. To have nightmares might suggest they are punishing themselves for something they felt guilty for.
Little did they know, not all nightmares are simply in their heads, to be manipulated with a little reassurance. Some nightmares take shape and wander the earth. Some take the form of innocent and beautiful things before they show their true selves. Some become such a part of you that you cannot rid yourself of them no matter what you may want to do.
Some nightmares are little girls, wrapped in bloody nightgowns who emerge from your basement with revenge and hatred on their minds.
She crept silently through the house, a firm grip on the instrument in her hand and a trail of red behind her. Desperation and rage radiated off her in waves so thick that she could have cut them with that very knife. How many times had she run away and been hunted down to lead to this moment? How many times had her keeper beaten her into this very state? The numerous painful memories surfaced to assist her and she approached the man sleeping. She could have almost heard the room begging her not to anger him. His wrath would fall upon everything and everyone. A failed attempt would surely mean the end of them all.
That worry was needless, though. A single calculated stab was all she needed. The small number of times she'd snuck away to the library and risked his fury would be worth it. She was more prepared than she need be to stop a drunk and hopeless man's beating heart.
The first stab was in the neck, to ensure the quickest death her small frame could manage. He was awake immediately, reaching for her, but she was already out of reach and taking the knife with her, ducking out of his reach. The alcohol still coursing through him made any attempt to catch her futile. A wet choking sound came from him, but otherwise he was unable to say anything from the blood spurting out of his neck. A swipe of her knife slashed his hand and there would have been a cry of pain if he could have managed that. How she longed to hear that cry, but this was the only way to ensure her plan succeeded. He stared at her with wide eyes and she left him to choke on his own blood. A death left alone was better than he deserved, but there was more to be done. Witnesses to be disposed of.
The stairs creaked as she went up them, but she ignored the sound as adrenaline coursed through her. Tucking the weapon against her side, she advanced towards her elder brother's room, turning the knob with practiced ease. Sleeping soundly in his bed, the Isaiah looked peaceful. She had always resented that he could wear that face. That she suffered day and night and never had he made any efforts to protect her. The motion of the knife into his neck was done without a thought. Isaiah looked at her, clearly hurt by her betrayal, but she knew it wasn't warranted. She brought the knife down on his eyes to remove it.
Jacob was more frantic, thrashing about and even managing to land a good blow to her stomach, irritating an already present injury. A few random slashes brought him back into submission and he cowered in a curled position, his back to her. She left him, holding a hand to her stomach in an attempt to will the pain away.
The final door appeared before her and she hesitated a moment, the knife clattering to the ground in front of it. Just out of sight, the other three individuals suffered in their final moments and she blocked them out, focusing solely on her final target.
The door pushed open to reveal the room of a young boy, no more than a few years old. She tiptoed the distance between herself and the bed, hovering over the figure sleeping there. Sitting on the bed with her legs crossed over one another, she lifted the boy's head with a gentleness that went in direct contrast with her previous actions. Her hand found its way to his hair, running though it, gently. Her expression saddened, but no tears escaped her. Leaning close, her breath tickling his ear as he slept, she whispered soft and remorseful words to him.
“I'm sorry.”
The act was over before it began, the small boy's head turned to the side and his eyes still closed. She stayed a moment, her fingers spread throughout his hair, before leaving the bed and the room all together. Not a single glance was spared as she picked up the knife from the ground and headed down the stairs once again. By then, the first victim was already dead, but that didn't stop her from climbing over him and bringing the weapon down upon him again and again. She wanted to deface him and ruin the chance that anyone would recognize him.
Her arms began to tire, but she brought it down a few times more just to satisfy the rage inside of her. Satisfied, she left the knife embedded in his eye and raided his pocket for a key. Pulling it out, she held it in the light to admire it. The shiny metal surface wasn't any different from most keys, but this one would be especially helpful in her next move.
A gun case in the shed outside held all of the family's weapons, tucked out of the reach of the children behind a locked door. She slid the key into the lock and opened the door. A handgun was pulled out of place, and she held it a moment, taken by how much power she felt while holding it. Unsure how to load the gun, she mostly took it as a prop and returned to the house to pack a few things to go.
Finally ready to go, she tucked the gun in the waistband of her brother's pants, which she had nicked from his clothing along side the rest of her outfit and a few other things in a bag on her back. Pulling a baseball cap over her eyes, she looked back at the house one last time and took in the scene before turning and fleeing into the darkness.