Chapter Text
Every day is the same.
She wakes up, stares at the holes in her ceiling, and continues lying in bed, wishing she could just fall asleep again.
She tries not to think about her.
She somehow wills herself to get up, as is routine every morning, and gets dressed. She grabs her trusty bat, which used to belong to-
She tries not to think about her.
She makes her way downstairs, her stomach growling, and walks past the corpse sitting on her couch.
She tries not to think about her.
She doesn’t eat breakfast. She never really has. She’ll skip other meals too, not just because she can’t afford it, but because sometimes she’s just too tired. Most of the time, it's a bit of both.
When Aubrey steps outside, the sunlight hits her skin; it’s the first day of summer. For a moment, she allows herself to take in the warmth, breathing in the crisp air, feeling some kind of peace.
It’s another year of school gone by, another year where she’s passed by the skin of her teeth. Her grades are surprisingly decent, but her attendance record has really put her on thin ice. Honestly, she's surprised her mom is still enrolling her. It seems like she only wakes up to do important paperwork; it confuses her why she doesn't put any effort into doing anything else.
Anything to keep her daughter trapped here, she supposes. Child support money goes a long way.
After a moment of peace, she walks away. To do… something. She doesn’t really know.
School is the primary reason she leaves the house anymore, so now that it’s over, there’s not much for her out here. She has her friends, of course, but sometimes, she feels like a burden to them.
…actually, not sometimes. All the time. Especially Kim and Vance, who have provided her with more support than her parents ever did. She owes them her sight, though her contacts; the clothes she wears; the dye in her hair. They’re family.
And what has Aubrey done for them in return? She showed them how to covertly steal candy, among other things, which is at least more than nothing. But that’s probably doing more harm than good. Maybe it should even be considered less than nothing. Unlike her, they don’t need to steal. They do it for fun. She does it to survive.
Their parents hate her, or at least their mom does. She’s never seen their father, but then again, she hasn’t seen hers in ages either. She’s that bad influence, the devil on their shoulders, and she’s taking them down to hell with her.
As she walks down the street, she spots a certain flowered house in front of her, intertwined with nature. It’s so close to her house that they might as well be neighbors, but the contrast between its natural beauty and her “home” of rotting wood and endless filth irritates her. She narrows her eyes and turns away from it.
If things were different, maybe she could live with one of her friends. But every adult she’s ever met has hated her. Her Hooligans, as they’re known, are infamous now, and not in a good way. The drawbacks of living in a small town are that everyone knows who she is. The pink hair more than gives her away, signaling her presence like a venomous animal. People will cross the street to get away from her.
Aubrey knows that she’s the one responsible for their ever-plummeting reputation. Part of her doesn’t understand why they even care so much about her, why they go along with it all. But she does need them, and they do care about her, so she might as well take it in stride. The only time she can really forget about everything, truly relax and find some enjoyment in life, is when she’s with them.
So when a certain blonde-haired boy tries to intrude, it’s only natural that she gets angry. Far too angry.
She wishes he would just leave her alone. He’s a hypocrite; how can he claim to want to cherish those memories when he tried to desecrate them? It must be a ruse for something more sinister. She’s sure that he wants to destroy the photo album for good, finish the job he started.
She wants to forget that any of it ever happened and just move on already, yet she knows that doing that would be an affront to Mari's memory. The conflict eats away at her every day: does she want to remember, or does she want to forget? It’s impossible to do both.
She visits the church, visits Mari’s grave weekly, sees those photos of her on her wall every single day, to keep her memory intact. But she despises that every time she thinks of a memory, of the days at the beach, of the days in the treehouse, the others are always there too. Because they complete the memory, make it what it really is. And she hates that more than anything.
She hates Kel for forgetting, for moving on without a care in the world.
Maybe she’s jealous that she could never let herself do the same.
She hates Sunny for abandoning her when she needed it the most.
Maybe she’s jealous that he had a home to retreat into.
She hates Basil for ruining the first friendship she'd ever had, the only physical memories she had.
He might be the only person she hates more than herself.
Her fists clench naturally as she walks past the park gate, only one place on her mind. She wishes that she wasn’t spending time alone there. The other Hooligans know of it, but she doesn’t expect them to be there. It’s lost most of its former glory now.
Still, it’s the only area that they can have to themselves, so it was natural that they claimed the spot as their own. Aubrey pushes through the leaves before dropping her bat by the shore, walking out onto the boardwalk.
That quaint lake, buried deep in the woods of Faraway Park, brings memories back to her. Good or bad, she isn’t really sure. As she enters, it’s empty as usual. Before everything, she could have come here when she wanted to be alone, but right now, it’s the complete opposite. She wishes for someone to be here with her.
Maybe in another timeline, she could come here with someone who hardly speaks at all. Maybe he could listen to her, and they could laugh together. He would gaze at her with those bright eyes like she was the most important person in the world, like her issues were the only thing that mattered. He would comfort her, and…
Aubrey perches at the edge of the boardwalk, feeling tears form in her eyes. She hates having days like this. They try to bring her down, tell her that nothing is ever getting better, not when she can’t bring people back from the dead. Even if such days have become more infrequent, it crushes her to think like this. Just yesterday, she went out with friends in celebration of just barely passing another year of high school. So how come she can’t feel any of that joy today?
Continuing to sob, she opens her eyes and stares into the water. She wonders if she could finally find some peace down there. In the deep azure, she sees faces form in her imagination.
“This place is too dangerous! We are never coming back. Ever.”
“But, Mari-”
“Don’t ‘but’ me! You could have killed him!”
She can still remember that anguish in her voice, the uncharacteristic rage that she exuded. It wasn’t a simple mistake to her; this was an accusation of murder. Aubrey had never seen Hero and Mari so far apart for so long until then.
It feels like forever before she can even attempt to lift her head up again. She takes a few deep breaths. Calming down is harder when she’s alone, but at the same time, crying feels so freeing. If only she had the courage to cry in front of her friends.
In her mind, the tears make her weak, especially with this delinquent persona she has, and it’s very hard to change her mind. She thinks that it’s impossible to have the best of both worlds: to have both the freedom of emotion and the comfort of her loyal friendships. So she must choose one, and today she’s chosen to cry. Alone.
A couple of the tears drip into the water, sending small ripples across the lake. In another time, there might be birds chirping; there would be ducks in the water, or maybe some crows perched on that ancient statue in the middle of the lake. But right now, everything is silent. Aubrey only has her own ugly sobs to comfort her.
Finally stable, breathing as steadily as she can, she turns around and freezes at the sight in front of her.
The girl has short frizzy black hair and glasses, and if Aubrey’s eyes were still filled with tears, she might have mistaken her for someone else. Aubrey’s first thought is that she looks like a pushover. The intruder flinches when she notices the harsh gaze piercing through her.
“S-sorry,” she gasps, “I-I didn’t wanna interrupt. I-I just- I-I was looking for something to draw.” She holds up her pencil and paper with hands trembling, hiding behind them like it’s her sword and shield. “S-someone told me… to come here. Th-that it was pretty.”
“Who?” Aubrey retrieves her bat, stalking up to the girl. She towers over her, anger coursing through her body at the idea that someone saw her in her moment of weakness. They aren’t even that far apart in height, but the artist girl seems to shrink in her shadow.
“H-he… has blonde hair, a-and… a fake flower in his hair,” she stammers. “B-Basil?”
Oh.
Eerily calm now, Aubrey slings her bat over her shoulder. “Okay. Have fun.”
"Tell Basil that it's not so pretty anymore."
Though her posture suggests that she’s calm, her ice-cold voice pierces through her and sends shivers down her spine. When she attempts to pick up the pencil again, she finds it hard to do so when her fingers keep trembling. Mincy wonders what she’s just set loose on her new friend. They only met a few days ago, too…
Aubrey’s pink hair waves in the wind as she turns to leave, and it almost seems to howl behind her. She saunters off without another word.
Who is she? I just wanted to see somewhere nice…
I’m sorry, Basil…
Who is she? Talking to Basil of all people, really? She must be new in town.
Poor girl. You shouldn’t be friends with someone like that. I wonder how they met…?
“Alright, Mince! Everything’s all moved in! Why don’t you go outside and meet some new friends?” A man with rounded glasses wipes the sweat off his brow. His jet-black hair is thinning at the sides, and he looks more aged than she remembers, but if anything, she thinks that he looks more like a father now.
“A-ah… I don’t know,” Mincy sighs, rubbing the back of her neck. “I-I was gonna stay inside today.”
Her dad chuckles. “Well, if you do that, you’ll be doing it all summer! It’s good to make connections in a new place like this, y’know?”
“...I guess so,” she mumbles. “Maybe I’ll just… go and draw some stuff outside, and hope someone approaches me.”
“Ah, that’s the spirit! Make the world work for you, not the other way around!” He pulls her into a quick hug. “Proud of you. Real proud.”
“Th-thanks, Dad…”
Sketchbook in hand, she steps outside, squinting as the sunlight hurts her eyes. Her dad has always been supportive, much more so than her mother, but he still fails to understand the art she makes. He thinks anything she makes is good, and he can’t comment or offer feedback on the flaws that she sees. If she’s really serious about art school, then she needs some better criticism, even if it usually hurts her to hear. But she also knows that he’s trying his best. And sometimes, that’s all she needs to keep going.
“Oh, one more thing!”
“Hm?” She turns around.
“The WiFi won’t be in for a couple weeks, so you really should find something to do out there.”
“What?!” She groans. “Okay.” There go most of her plans for the next couple weeks. She knows well enough that it’s not good to stay inside all day, but she just can’t bring herself to leave that safety. The world scares her, and she says she isn’t ready to take it on yet. But if she never tries, then will she ever be ready at all?
Sulking now, Mincy walks down the street, looking for any kind of inspiration. She thinks back to that park that she saw on the car ride over. It looked like a nice place to hang out in, albeit small…
Lost in her own thoughts, her body stops on its own when she sees one house in particular. It has beautiful flowerbeds all over its front yard, and vines are even growing up the walls. She stares at one patch of flowers, rosy pink and purples, and thinks about drawing the whole house. It looks serene and magical, like something out of a fairy tale.
Ugh, but I probably should ask if I can do that…
Luckily for her, some quick poking around leads her to find someone in the backyard. He’s wearing a sun hat, his messy blonde hair flowing out the back. He looks a bit younger than her.
“Hey!” she says, already nervous. “D-do you live here?” That’s a stupid question. Of course he does.
The boy jumps up and lets out a small yelp, looking terrified as he turns to her. “Y-yes…” he stammers, adjusting his hat. “U-um… who a-are you?” He’s wearing dark green gloves, a trowel in one hand gripped tightly, like a weapon. The other hand is noticeably shaking. As he stands up, she realizes that he is about the same age as her, just noticeably shorter.
“I’m Mincy… I’m new in town.” She scratches her head, feeling awkward as sweat begins forming on her body. “I-I, um, I saw your house, and it’s really pretty. D-do you mind if I draw it?”
“Oh… sure,” he says, dumbfounded. “Uh, r-really? Thanks…”
“Yeah! Of course! D-do you mind if I… come back sometime? To draw your… plants? And stuff? A-and maybe talk with you? I-I… need friends…” she says pathetically, “y-y’know, being new and all…”
“Yeah, I… yeah.” He looks down in understanding. “M-my name’s Basil. It’s n-nice to m-meet you.”
Someone who stammers more than me? Wow…
Mincy feels that she’s hit the jackpot. This boy seems very similar to herself; they’re both nervous wrecks.
“Okay, um, I’ll s-see you around? I think? Yeah! Bye!” She turns around quickly after an awkward silence, knowing full well that said silence was caused by her not responding to him in time.
“Okay- bye!” He waves to her even though she’s already turned around.
It takes a moment for him to process what just happened. He stands there just blinking for a while before suddenly regaining consciousness. Part of him is glad to have someone to talk to, but he can’t deny feeling incredibly nervous at the same time. His grandma and Polly, her caretaker, are the only two people he really talks to. Friends his age are out of the question.
Destructive as ever, his mind instantly turns to the ways their friendship could fall apart. What will she think of him when she finds out what he did? What about when she finds out that he’s just a loser in general? He probably doesn’t even need to reveal his secrets for her to know that.
He’s lucky it’s the summertime; otherwise, seeing how he’s treated in school would give her second thoughts about her choice of friendship. Everyone hates him there, all thanks to Aubrey and her gang. At best, he just gets ignored. He deserves it, though.
He crouches down and continues working with his plants. His breath wavering, he attempts to control his shaking. Maybe he should just let her know tomorrow that she shouldn’t be hanging out with someone like him.
Tomorrow…? Did she even say she was coming tomorrow?
“Y-your drawing is… really good…” Basil whispers, his wide blue eyes gazing at her sketch. He crouches down, looking back and forth between the paper and the house to compare them.
“W-well, it’s still just a sketch,” Mincy says, laughing awkwardly. A faint blush appears on her cheeks. “Um, thanks though. D-do you… know a lot about art? I’m trying to go to art school. I-it’s a… a big dream, I guess.”
“Yeah, um, I-I knew someone who would… draw… some… times…” He falls silent. It almost looks like he’s lost consciousness entirely.
“...Basil?” She waves her hand in front of his face. It’s become pretty clear to her over the past hour or so that he has some… strange issues. She doesn’t know what to make of it.
“Y-yeah, s-sorry…” He rubs the back of his neck. “I just… sorry. I know s-some basic stuff.”
“Well, um, what do you think? Is it good?” She wants to ask him about that someone, but she gets the idea that she shouldn’t be prying into that.
“Of course! It looks so… real.” He touches the page. “Like, um, I could… be s-standing there, too. And it would look the s-same.” He looks up at his real house across the street. “The perspective is good.”
“It’s really pretty,” Mincy murmurs, joining him in looking at the house. “I don’t think I can really do it justice.”
“W-what?! Of course you can!”
“I-I don’t know…” She shrugs. “Thanks, though… f-for encouraging me.”
Basil sits back down on the sidewalk, his legs crossed. “Y-you’re really talented.”
“Thanks,” she whispers. Without her knowledge, a small smile forms on her face. “And you said I shouldn’t hang out with you.”
“W-well, I… I’m a bad person. Ask anyone.”
“You… don’t seem like one. Why do they say that?” She looks up at him in concern. He avoids eye contact, quickly shifting his attention away from her.
“I-I am,” he says. “You don’t wanna know.”
Mincy laughs. “What, you killed someone?”
“...”
“Wait, you’re kidding, right?” Her eyes go wide, her mouth slightly agape.
Basil nods nervously, his flower pin bobbing up and down with his hair. “Y-yeah, haha… haven’t k-killed anyone.” He rubs the back of his neck. “But, um… please don’t say that.”
“Oh… okay. Sorry.” Now she feels bad about herself. Is she being too comfortable with him? They did just meet, after all.
He hates to see her look so down all of a sudden. It’s all his fault, of course, as everything usually is. They spend the next hour or so just sitting in silence. He watches her hand move across the page, working meticulously on every detail. She probably uses more eraser than pencil, but it ends up looking incredible in the end. He can see her fill in each petal of every flower with care, her steady hand working to make every detail perfect.
“What do you think?” Mincy says softly, looking up at the house again.
“It’s incredible.”
“D-do you… really think so?”
He nods earnestly. “I-it’s… all the details… it’s just so… I don’t know, caring. Like, um… I can tell you care a lot about it, I mean. Y-you really do think it's beautiful.”
Her eyebrows raise ever so slightly in surprise. “W-wow… thanks.” Her cheeks turn pink at the compliment, her lips curling up in a smile.
“I still think you’re… really talented,” he mumbles. “W-why don’t you think so?”
“Who said I don’t think so?” She chuckles. “Well… you are right about that. I-I just… oh, I don’t know. My mom thinks I’ll never make it as an artist. I don’t… get much real encouragement,” she murmurs. “And I don’t have many friends. Any friends, actually.” Her posture worsens.
“...neither do I,” Basil mutters. “B-but, um, we’re friends now, right?”
“Yeah! Of course.” She stares at him sympathetically. “U-unless you… don’t want to be…”
“I-I do!” His eyes widen at the thought. “B-but, I still think you should… reconsider.” He casts his eyes down to the pavement.
“...what are you so scared of?”
“S-scared? I’m n-not… well, I mean…” He sighs in defeat, shrugging his shoulders after a moment. “I’m scared I’ll… ruin everything.” Again.
“...I see,” Mincy whispers. “I get that, I think.”
“...”
“My parents… they work these high-paying jobs, and they expect me to do the same, and they want me to do well in school so I can be a doctor or something. But I hate doing that. I wanna do art.”
“B-but I… feel like I’m ruining their dreams by pursuing mine. A-and I feel like… I won’t succeed out there.”
“I think you should… do what you want,” Basil murmurs, staring at her drawing again. “What you’re good at.”
“Ha. That sounds so simple… I mean, I… don’t know if I’m good at it,” she sighs. “But… thanks. God, you keep being so nice, and I just put myself down…”
“It’s alright.” He manages to smile, trying to make her feel better. “I-it’s hard to… think highly of yourself. Sometimes.” All the time.
“All the time.”
He blinks in surprise. “Y-yeah, I… I guess so.” Did she read my mind?
They share a look of understanding.
“I’ll try not… to be so hard on myself,” Mincy sighs. “But in return, you need to do the same thing, okay?” She flashes a grin at him. “‘I’m a bad person,’ yeah, right," she says with a mocking tone. "Whoever thinks that about you must be insane.”
“I can… I can try.” It’s a promise.
Basil can’t remember the last time he smiled. He’d tried to after it happened; he was told it would be good for him to move on. Of course, that was without the full knowledge of the situation, but he took the advice regardless. He tried to watch his favorite shows again, but the jokes never hit the same. He talked endlessly with his grandma, his only real companion, and though she cackled about this and that while telling him stories, her usually infectious laughter couldn’t move him. Now, this girl came out of nowhere, and she did it effortlessly.
It almost gives him hope that he can heal. But at the same time…
The last people to make him smile all left him behind.
Aubrey spies her victim in his front yard, tending to some plants. He looks just the slightest bit happy, and it makes her curl her lips in disgust. Happy? How?
In a flash, she’s shoved him into the dirt, and that smile, the tiniest of smiles, has been wiped off his face. He can’t be afforded any kind of mercy.
“You’re telling people about that place now?! Are you insane?!”
The blonde boy cowers in the shadow of his tormentor, her bright pink hair waving behind her. Her bat pokes him squarely on the chest, the nails digging into his clothes.
“P-please, Aubrey… please…” he mumbles, almost incoherently. His eyes refuse to meet her fiery glare. He feels the weight on his chest loosen.
“You better not show up there. It’s not yours anymore.”
He gives her a terrified nod, attempting to stand up.
“You got that?!” She yells, spooking him back onto the ground. “Now get away from me, freak!” She turns to leave.
“...b-but this is my house,” he mumbles, sounding more confused than anything.
Aubrey turns back around in bewilderment. He actually talked back?
“W-well, uh…” She falters for a moment. It irks her that he can feel something other than fear when she’s talking to him. “Okay? I don’t care!” She shoves her face into his, attempting to make him back up. He does as she hopes, averting his eyes and trembling in fear on the ground.
She waits for a response, but she doesn’t get one, so she turns to leave for real this time. It seems like whatever little courage he had today has already run out. She doesn’t want to go home yet, so she just starts wandering the streets like a lost child.
In some ways, she is a lost child. Still searching for her caretaker after all these years, but never finding her.
As she walks, it’s disheartening to see people cross the road to escape her. Even little children, who have probably been warned by their parents. The thing that hurts about them is that they don’t know how to hide their emotion, so she can see the terror on their faces clear as day.
The only adult who’s ever shown her some kind of sympathy is the old priest. But even he seems to lack any kind of real advice. According to him, just praying to God will take her problems away if she does it enough. She went to confession once, and all she had to do to “repent” was say a few prayers. That can’t make up for what she’s done, and she knows it. She hasn’t been since.
Aubrey thinks briefly about stopping by the church, but she decides against it. It’s not like visiting anyone there would make her feel better. It might even make her feel worse.
After some hours spent walking, her feet hurt, and lugging the bat behind her begins to feel like a chore. She doesn’t find her house until well past sundown, only the light of the stars guiding her. A new moon is out tonight.
This was a terrible day. Tomorrow, maybe she’ll just cry inside instead of outside. Or maybe she'll get lucky and actually have a good day. It's all random at this point. When she opens her front door, only the faint light of the TV greets her. She stumbles past her comatose mother and tiredly climbs the ladder to the attic.
Her eyelids droop, but she can hardly tell when her eyes are closed or open in this pitch black. Her legs ache from the walking, desperate for a long rest. She pauses a moment to breathe, taking her contacts out and placing them on her nightstand.
“Ah!” Aubrey ducks her head as something flies over her through the darkness. She readies her bat in attack position, her eyes darting around wildly as she attempts to find the creature. Her eyes turn crazed as she whips around frantically. Her erratic movements should be impossible for someone as tired she is.
What the hell is that?! A bird or something?
She catches the slightest bit of red at the edge of her vision and whips around, swinging wildly. Her bat smashes against the wall, tearing a hole in the rotting wood. “God damn it!” she yells, spinning around, looking for any signs of movement. Yet another patch-up job she’ll have to do in the morning.
She tries flicking the light switch, but it doesn’t work. Just her luck.
“Show yourself!” she calls out, widening her eyes to try and catch a glimpse of anything. There are no stars in the sky, and the moon offers her no light. All she can see is darkness.
“What are you?!” she yells. “Get the fuck out of my house!”
Aubrey taps her bat on the floor, crossing her arms in frustration. Should she try going over to Kim’s house? No, she’s not allowed there anymore. It’s just a bird or something. Just go to bed, and it’ll be gone in the morning.
“Ugh,” she mutters, finding her mattress in the corner. She slips off her shoes, hiding herself under the blanket, about to shut her eyes when she sees it again. Those red eyes, peering at her through the darkness. She snaps out of bed and attempts to grab it with her bare hands, finding nothing. After her tackle, she hits the hard wood floor, crying out in pain.
Am I going insane…?
“What do you want?!” she shouts, turning in place as she searches for any signs of the phantom, her head spinning in confusion. Crawling on the ground, she searches for a flashlight. She knows she has one; this isn’t the first time the power’s gone out.
Thanking herself for being organized, she shines a beam of light into the dark. It flickers, but it lets her see, even if there’s nothing there. Aubrey thinks to herself that she’s going crazy.
She shakes the flashlight, hoping it lasts a little longer as she scans the room. It continues flickering, not giving her much confidence in its battery life. She keeps thinking she sees those ethereal red eyes again, but they seem to disappear completely when she tries to bathe them in light.
The light goes out.
She hears something now, she’s sure of it. It’s taunting her.
She hears it swoop in for the kill, and before she can react, she feels a sharp pain in the back of her neck. As she falls to her knees, seething in pain, her hands snap to where she was bitten, but she finds nothing there.
She takes one last ragged breath before succumbing for the night.
