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The lights of passing cars assailed her eyes with a familiar sting, one that she was all too used to, given her myriad hours spent behind bright screens in ever darker rooms. Expansive nothingness took form, portrayed only within the bounds of her headlights. It was nothing, if not a dark night. Trees melted into brief glimpses of brown and green, moving beside her vehicle at speeds far more erratic than she would ever normally be caught at. The "she" in question was a peculiar mix of anxious and terrified, as just moments before she had seen something distinctly beyond the realms of what sanity would beckon.

"It was nothing."

Her words were no more convincing than her quivering palms struggling for grip at the slightly riveted texture of the wheel. The repetitious cycle of calm and panic mirrored the same scene over and over again. There would be ten or so minutes before seeing the familiar light of another vehicle christening into the horizon. Likewise, each new "meeting" caused her anxiety to suppose it was the police.

Why?

6:26 PM.

Just hours prior she had committed the cardinal sin of a driver behind the wheel. Not only had she hit someone, she hadn't so much as mustered the courage to look back. The reason behind the irrational decision? It was a twofold assault, guilt and panic.

She could still see that final moment, plastered like a photograph, no matter how many times she pressed her eyes shut. He was a man of medium height and maybe a few years older than she. His features soft and boyish despite his age range likely hovering in the early twenties. Abruptly the sound of flesh and bone crashing against her car replayed in her mind, so real she swerved unconsciously enthralled by what felt so, so real.

It all happened in a cascade of half moments, the first was his gait narrowing into the perfect place that forced it's way into her pathway. Next came the expression of loss, fear, and realization, his fearfully attractive features twisted in a shape of pure dread. After came the very first moment of realization, the racing thoughts, the desperate pleas falling on deaf ears. Finally the impact, a gruesome, wet crunch as she witnessed the man effectively splattered like a bug across the windshield and front grates. His arms, which he had raised to protect himself were the first to give way to the impact, giving way like twigs, bone rupturing through flesh at the gruesome hand of physics at work. The unstoppable force in question, no doubt had proven he was anything but an immovable object, in the cruel inevitability of it all.

She recalled the next moments, trying in vain to repress a terrible urge to vomit at the folding of his body. There was a moment, a single moment before the pain had shown on his fear stricken face, that the two locked eyes. Out of all the horrible display, the expression, the stare of a man begging for mercy, mercy she was unable to offer. The worst part, the part she couldn't ever wash from her memories would be those eyes. Those big, beautiful, hazel eyes which had millions of words left to say, millions. She had ended it all, taken those possibilities and lead them to nothing, and while she wished to cry, something wouldn't let her, and she hated that fact as much as she regretted remembering the next details.

Those beautiful eyes began to turn downward, facing the hood of the car in futility, his teeth cleaving against the metal. One tooth after the next expunged from his now terribly broken jaw. In a fraction of a thought the broken jaw eclipsed the upper row of teeth in a virulent explosion of dental gore, most of which plastered against the windshield in a massive, gorey mess of flesh and bone.

She could have sworn that it would end there, that the impact ended his suffering, but she knew that would make her not only a murderer, but a liar as well.

His jaw stuck to the leftover gums with what teeth remained in the pure gore of a mouth that she could see. Pain painted a cruel picture as the momentum refused to stop. Next to suffer was his nose which caved in upon itself, lacking even a chance for blood to escape. No, the fidelity of her skull was compromised even further as the bone structure of his face began to mirror the motion of his nose. It was as this very moment, this very fraction of which she distinctly recalled how he started to lose his human looks. The next passing saw his eyes pushed backwards as the remaining of his facial structure worked against him, the remains of his cheekbones impaling the milky white whites of his eyes in a splintering of bone against bone.

The angle must have been just right. Just right to cause pieces of brain and skull, leftovers of eyes and teeth spewed still upon her windshield.

In the final moment, she witnessed him cut brutally in his midsection, his intestines escaping, but not before getting caught on the hood ornament. The resulting force was just too much, tearing a moment later as his body fell below the car, but not before dragging him for a half mile below the car, adding insult to the already corpse like man.

"It wasn't my fault, he jumped out. I couldn't have stopped, there wasn't any reason to stop!"

Her hands clashed painfully on the center of the steering wheel triggering the horn, the likes of which startled her despite the lack of any headlights to see the remaining gore.

She didn't have a plan, she didn't have an alibi, she killed him. She killed him and didn't even have the decency to try and help. Why?

She couldn't deny the reason, no matter where she looked or what justification she wanted. She was scared. Her life was just starting and the man ran out into the street down a completely barren forest devoid of humans for miles in any direction.

It all started innocently enough, leaving her dorm with sights set on a birthday party for her father. She had hated drives at night for as long as she could remember, but with an unexpected overtime presented at her workplace she was essentially handed an ultimatum. Keep her job and get there late, or lose it and not even be able to pay for the gas home on her own. It was less a true choice and more the illusion of choice. Obviously siding with option one she stayed over until five thirty. She left straight from work, taking highway seventy-five the straight shot north, toward the barren north.

The college town she had called home for the past year was already quite rural, but her parents place, the place she grew up, was a whole different level of extreme. This lead to the nearly six hour drive there to be anything but accommodating in the late hours. It was almost all forest, untamed and filled with bears and more importantly, deer. As is probably common knowledge among most drivers, deer cause a lot of crashes, a danger which peaked near sunset.

The monotonous nature of driving for so long played a deadly game of attrition on the senses. Nezeah, the girl in question, the unfortunate would be killer, had already suffered much from a terrible habit of anxiety. And yet, she never once considered a human, to fall prey to her regularly cautious driving. The sweat on her palms, accompanied by the occasional piece of human still left on the car inspired paranoia.

Will the next car be a police car?

Will I be arrested?

Should I just turn myself in?

They were just some of the racing thoughts the poor girl of twenty thought. Still, part of her guilt eclipsed the feeling of chilling numbness, that no matter how much she tried, no tears could escape, just the sickening emotion of worry.

The mile markers past her like small flags, signaling one less mile until her inevitable fate. She knew her father, a very good man, one with morals that often caused her head to spin. Being a paragon of the church, he fancied himself one or God's protectorate, convinced that the forces of evil would eventually clash, and to that end, he was certainly ready. Not only was he a retired Navy special ops, he had honed his gun-slinging skills, achieving a level one or two pegs below celebrity status in his community.

Despite his fierce side, he was a great dad to have around provided she was abiding by the rules of his home which unfortunately had clashed with her own beliefs. See, she was raised in a church from day one, being told this and that about any number of rules and regulations from the supposed higher power. Believe she did, for a long time growing up, but reality has a way of proving and disproving the proverbial truths beyond the looking glass. She, had merely came to a much different conclusion than her parents. Though she'd never dare speak of it, as she quite enjoyed their favor and had no intention of ending up like her little brother. Oh how she loved him, a scion of science to the bitter end, clashing bluntly with her parents on probabilities and numbers.

She knew, she knew very well, that, at least in her mind, he wasn't wrong. He was braver than she had ever felt in the presence of father, though a bit less so in the presence of mother.

Ah, mother, a woman who once galavanting around the country as free as a bird, living as free, and perhaps much more importantly, by her own desires and curiosities. Though her travels across the world eventually lead her to something that terrified her to such an extent, that she refused to this day to even talk about it. An oath to secrecy of such a strong woman, it always struck Nez as being a curiosity. What could cause such a free and untamed bird to seek a cage such as religious, organized religion at that. It half disappointed her, whenever she would hear the recollections of her old self, the storied mother that was badass and brave. Instead what she was given was a woman that felt confined to a uncomfortably small cage, running with her tail between her legs, a coward.

At the same time, she couldn't blame her, maybe she would have done the same thing, though she couldn't fathom following a train of thought by which relied on a man in the clouds to save her from something she had never really feared to begin with. Her mother's fears remained a stark mystery that she supposed she would never be graced with an answer to. Her own, however, were largely internal.

Nez had calmed down ever so slightly by the thoughts and recollections of her family. Surely they wouldn't blame her, maybe they would even sympathize with her. She didn't do it maliciously, in fact, she swerved slightly, a move that in the end lead to the most gruesome finale, but unintentionally so.

Flocks of shadows crept in and out of vision as the road snaked around then bends. As she felt herself nearing familiar territory, the land reserved to forever remain a frontier. Thousands of miles of forest in nearly every direction, each cluster of trees hiding no signs of life, let alone humanity.

11:02 PM.

She glanced at the clock peering back at her, she was beyond late, as one might expect from paranoia of the experience. Glad there weren't any other cars she moseyed along at a creeping pace. It had been nearly an hour since seeing the last tail lights fade into the abyss beyond the rear view mirror. She could hear something like whispering in her ear, it was in such a way that she knew it didn't exist, but just real enough to startle.

You've grown into a fine woman, one after my own heart.

The casual, almost cocky voice came across as familiar, too much so for comfort or claim.

I told you didn't I? You're just like me.

The pronounced voice felt as though on the edge of her ear, so much so, she could nearly fear it's breathy whispers.

You know as well as I do. You didn't 'accidentally' kill anyone. You made a choice, the one I always knew you would.

White knuckling the steering wheel, the quivering began, she didn't want to listen, but she couldn't block it out, she never could.

"I'm innocent, it was an accident. I'm innocent it was an accident. Go away, just leave me alone!"

Her words cried out, loudly, so much so, that someone outside the car could grasp her shrill scream. She was shaking like a cat in a bath, quivering in anticipation for the voice inside her head to say something. But it didn't. No, it wasn't going to make things so easy, instead she was forced to recite the truth as it were.

"I could have swerved, I could have stopped and seen if I could help him. No, I should have."

Now you understand. You're just like me.

The demure crescendo of its words were nothing short of agony, partly due to her agreeing with them, or rather, not being able to come up with a true retort.

Still no tears, despite her inner screaming of condemnation, she couldn't find a reason to shed a tear which only complicated her expression. One which may seem perfect to the twisted phantom in her mind, a perfect representation of sin, the object on which she had believed for most of her life to be absolution. A function of life to be starkly avoided, at any and all cost.

"Welcome to Barnbury County."

The welcome sign greeted her eyes as she meekly raised them to the forefront, as she had a habit of glancing to the back seat to ensure she was alone. It must have been spurred on by the innumerous horror stories she had heard growing up in combination with the voices.

The forest had many a myth and legend, none of which the siblings were spared from. Father had a keen interest into the realm of science and beyond, perhaps due to his mixture of practical militant nature and devout faith in a higher power. There were only forty seven miles left as the new day turned.

The last stretch of the trip was always the most eerie as concrete began to fade and gravel took its place.

Still deeper the trees took on a starkly different feeling, more pines and less of the warmer blankets of the fall colors, instead giving off a sense of a giant porcupine to either side of the winding, windswept road. The howling on the wind spoke in tongues she could never understand, cries of her crime echoing through the immense darkness.

Not even the moon was out, giving the feeling that, anything not illuminated by the headlights was simply non-existent. Creeping forward, her indented, blood caked vehicle look nearly as much a wreck as she did. Pulling into the long driveway amidst the empty dirt road just felt out of place, she could never shake the feeling. A brief glimpse of civilization struck in the form of lights, the first and last she had seen in a hundred miles. Their source was a familiar light of her childhood, the porch light that felt more like a symbol than a simple craft of electricity and glass. As her vehicle pulled to a slow crawl, she eventually stopped, firmly placing it fifty meters from the front door.

Taking a deep breath she looked about, and to her surprise no signs of movement from the humble home. She hadn't, after all, called them in advance, for two major reasons. One, fueled entirely by the chilling bite of fear, fear that they would condemn her actions if she told. And also, her original reason, because it was meant to be a surprise visit, a celebration of her father's special day.

Despite their disagreements she was definitely a daddy's girl. Finding some errant and apprehensive feeling when facing toward the luminant house. It really was a spectacle, a custom made cottage that could have doubled as a mansion by shear size. Her parents were quite rich, though she never quite understood what for, as they didn't like to tell her anything beyond the surface. As far as she knew, it was due to real estate, but that didn't stop her mind from coming up with her own theories which ranged from extreme to fairly mediocre.

Opening the door would no doubt cause enough noise to signal her arrival, at least to the dutiful pups that lived in the barn. Her now shaking hand felt the full brunt of apprehension constricting her muscles just before she could pull it all the way.

"I can't very well avoid it. I have to be honest."

Breaking her stare from the handle she pulled down the utility mirror behind the sun protector above. Looking back, was a girl with red hair, a girl who she could only consider "ok" looking at best. Her lips were chapped horribly, her eyes painted the stress in physical form from the trauma and her expression remained in a listless pout. Her proudest feature was probably her hair, which had the texture of a baby bunny and the fluffiness that made it quite a popular subject with her distant friends.

Mounting the courage, or perhaps the apathy, she finally turned to the handle and pulled with all of her might, finding the refreshing, chilled air of the forest eager to greet her. There was one particular facet of her departure from the interior that remained missing. Sound. Or, the lack there of assaulted her ears. No sound of barking, no sound of movement, not even a stray cricket or broken branch in the distance. It felt so empty, so surreal, so fake. She had no reason to feel this way, as calm nights were almost free of noise pollution, but there should have been something. Not even the wind dared to pass, or if it did briefly lick at her, it was silent, as if a ghost's hand had bristled it's cold fingers across her back. Shivers assaulted her at the biting cold, it was certainly nearing winter and she was underdressed even for fall. Moving toward the three story cottage dancing with exterior lights, she fumbled with her chilled hands to find the spare key she was given.

For a simple college student, she had amassed quite the collection of keys over the years, half of which could only open up memories anymore, but that counted as enough to make her feel less lonely. Coming across one such key made her stop, frozen in an expression of surprise and bitterness. It was the spare key she had been given by her late childhood friend.

"Amelia.."

The word escaped before she could stop herself. She had been there the night all of her family met their end. She had seen the horrors of a murderer first hand, a man that was never found.

Not wanting to spoil her chances at a decent night she quickly found the key in question and made her way up the stairwell to the main entrance. The classical style of the wood and raw stones carved into a look that emminated the feelings of ferocity, of regal almost royal appeal. To her left was the deep dark quiet of the forest, trees several dozen meters in any direction. The clearing was meticulously upkept, no doubt the handiwork of her brother. This building was not only her former home just last year, but the building she had been home schooled in following the tragedy of her best friend's passing.

Clasping the key in her left hand she steadied herself with a deep breath, preparing for whatever fate awaited her inside the massive home. Slipping the key into its slot she found the segway of the door to be just as smooth and silent as she remembered it.

Slipping inside she felt the burst of warmth from all angles, the perfect temperature for her, if not just a few degrees too low. Spinning to shut the door behind her with relative silence she was greeted by the imposing bay windows and the quaint den that made up only a small portion of the main hall.

The grand staircase twisted upward In a pattern that looked like a deer's antlers mirroring perfect symmetry, at least, as far as her eyes could tell. A large couch and television presented itself below the staircase and sat quaintly next to a bar and mini kitchen. The walls stretched up all the way to the second story where the staircase lead. The third story, was mostly off limits to her due to her father's business depending on the sanctity of the area. Still, she could see it from the outside, the large windows giving her a brief glimpse into the one place in the home she was never allowed. She had always been told it was for her own safety but she never believed it. If not for the imposingly thick door at the top of the second stairwell, she would have no doubt snuck her way to have a look, but that was a fleeting thought, and maybe even a dangerous one.

She didn't want to assume her family was into the unscrupulous business but she couldn't soundly deny it either. The rich like to keep their secrets even from those that may someday inherit such traits and business. She walked, as silently as she could through the dimly lit den, taking care to avoid the many collections of trophies and decor that cluttered the area. Frankly, it was never that it came off as gaudy, just that she was more familiar and acquainted with a simpler design sense, never taking to the collection of rare and breathtaking baubles.

To her the house had always been too big, she had much preferred to escape and spend the night at Amelia's more average home just down the street. Though her parents never seemed to mind, at least on the surface, in fact, she would have continued to believe Amelia's parents were close friends of her own if she hadn't overheard the truth in a stark example of how curiosity almost killed the cat.

She had found herself awoken by a thump those many years ago, she must have been eight or nine at the time. Her parents sat in the twin chairs of the den, discussing something with deadly serious expressions.

She couldn't make out every word but certainly discerned enough to make out "Do away with the neighbors in the case of…"

Now, she never did ask, nor came to any solid evidence of their plans for them, only that she knew they were not responsible for their deaths, that much she could swear by. In fact, she assumed the "doing away with" was more of an empty threat if they did something to impede the family's "business".

The room, as well as the smell of the house flooded her with many memories, good and bad, happy and sad. She was the middle child, and a female, which apparently disqualified her from actively participating or knowing about the family secrets. It lead her to the conclusion that it was a long running tradition or something that required some kind of patriarchal service. Similar to royalty, she was considered nothing more than a pretty face by her parents, and even sometimes her eldest brother.

Her graceful steps became wobbly as she neared the turn into the second half of the main hall, the guest entertainment hall. It consisted of a dazzling stage and seats surrounding the majestic display of both technology and nature firmly ingrained in it's aesthetic.

The many chairs haunted with the phantom cheers of the many performances she had seen, from contortionists to comedians, the short list of memories were endless. Her favorite was certainly the master chef's display of entertainment styled cooking. The width of this hall was easily a match for a pro level wedding hall, and it was no surprise that her eldest brother had chosen to hold the ceremony here. He was, after all, father's least favorite. Cairth was many things, none of which was desperate, he was her half brother, which made his actions always have half the weight in father's eyes. He was one step above female to him, half a chance to be the successor and yet he worked ten times as hard for every ounce of respect he garnished.

Still, he wasn't always so obsessed with father, with the intricacies of being a legitimate child in his eyes. In fact, he once used to pride himself on being his father's child, not her own father's kin. In truth, she didn't know his father that well, only that he was a biker who had formally travelled the world with her mother long before Nez was even a thought. Starting off kind and quirky he was responsible for introducing her to some of her favorite things. From fantasy novels to horror, writing to stuffed animals. Much to the contrary, he was also responsible for betraying her, condemning the things he once loved and calling her weak. In her mind there were two of him, one real and one fake, only that the fake had been the one to take control in the end. No matter how many times she had wished, no matter how much she strived to revive the Cairth she knew, there was no effect.

Never in her twenty years of existence had she ever felt that level of powerlessness, except once, once she never wanted to remember ever again. Regardless of the happenings, she couldn't easily trust him, but still loved him for the once good times, holding onto to that red string of hope, that someday, someday he would be himself again.

Her pathway through the entertainment room lead her to the first hallway of several on the first floor, this particular one holding seven of the sixteen guest rooms that existed in the collosal cottage estate. The Velel estate, as it was called, was precisely what would be expected of a fairly well off family, garnishing her last name, a name she was often told to be thankful for. To which, she certainly was, at times, and yet the reasons of her thanks were far different than the intent of the words. Instead of wealth, instead of the falsified power she was told to appreciate, the god she was supposed to worship, or the accolaids that she had been intended to accomplish; she was thankful for her little brother.

Being the youngest son left him in a peculiar place among the household, instead of a successor, he was given love and adoration, lenience and bounty. Nez could recall being jealous of him, at least in the beginning. Who could blame her? She was a child of eight years old and somewhat spoiled as the only girl. Between her elder brother and her doting parents things were truly beyond perfect before he came. At first, she recalled glaring at him, blaming him for stealing her place. She witnessed him be the constant focus in her place, and yet she never truly acted on her mischievous intents. Instead choosing to voice her disapproval to her brother and even her father who both seemed to find her tirade cute at best and ignorable at worst.

After two years of trying and failing to garnish her previous attention, she had given up, instead giving in to his beautiful smile and gentle nature. She had switched sides shamelessly, and she couldn't help but see the allure of her opponent. In fact, she had shown him all the wonderful things that Cairth had shared with her, from fiction, to the arts, to a love of simple things. It gave her pride to be his big sister, and gave her comfort to see him grow into such a sweet hearted boy. She decided to pay him a visit, as he would no doubt be relinquished to his room and expected to sleep, but she had trained him in the art of evading detection. So there was almost no doubt he would be awake.

A small smile managed to find it's way to her face as she passed the former playroom, one responsible for likely thousands of hours of fun and playful times. The most distinguished trait of the room had to be it's built in series or trap doors and secret rooms. She still remembered the combination for each and every locked door in the room. It was one of her sources of pride, her tendency to almost never forget things that had an emotional consequence or elation tied to it.

Swiftly scurrying through the doorway forward she was close to her destination. There was one final obstacle which she would have to bypass in order to make it to her brother's room undetected. The second staircase, and alongside it, her parent's bedroom door. In truth, despite the door being sequestered to the second floor, it lead almost immediately into a staircase upward to the third floor, a fact she had only found out due to her habit of visiting them for comfort after her innumerous nightmares that she suffered following the tragedy of her best friend. Her siblings satirically jabbed that she had knowledge beyond her means due to her being the only one graced with passage into the normally locked corridor.

Reality is sometimes stranger than fiction, this statement about described her parent's room in estranged glory. With strange contraptions and mysterious unmarked books, she could only suppose the nature of the unknowns as being mythical, magical or forbidden. Despite the temptation, she had only once seen the inside of one of the large books, being filled less with words but rather symbols that looked akin to hieroglyphics. This, only fueled her theories on what the strange business her parents could be a part of. On more than one occasion, it had been supposed that they were part of the Illuminati, though the question was only ever met with a jovial answer like "why of course we are!". Followed, of course, by a firm laugh that seemed real enough to Nez.

Taking to the stairs she moved low and quiet, it was far from being her first attempt at sneaking silently, and it was nigh guaranteed to not be her last, unless she was caught of course. Her flowery attempts to forget the previous event of the night were working, if only just a smidgen, her mind was pinpoint focused on the smiling face of her little brother Esmond. He, who was far less intimidating than his name would paint him, was now twelve, nearly thirteen. She remembered the tears he shed for her when she left like it was yesterday, because, at least to her, it might as well have been.

There it was, the aforementioned door, an entranceway into her parent's room. Donning carvings of a twin headed snake encircling a bird, the family crest gleamed proudly in the golden glow of precious stones and metals. Fancy didn't even begin to describe it, let alone it's hulking side and thickness, like a bank vault door if not for it's white oak trimming.

One step, then another, she heard no obvious signs of movement, the coast, at first glance, appeared to be clear. The next step carried with it a great folly, one particular spot she had neglected, that precise point had a particularly whiny sound to it, the wood bending under foot in just the right way to foil her plans.

"Awfully careful for a proud daughter of the family, aren't you?" A familiar sultry voice graced the air.

"Father I-" She attempted a retort, being unable to finish.

"You know, you could have just said hello instead." The bear like man encircled her in a hug, drawing her to her feet.

Despite their clear disagreements she loved him, he was her one and only father and a good man, at least as far as she was concerned.

"Dad, have you been well? I came here to wish you a happy birthday but…" her eyes trailed off to the ground as the reality she was pushing back returned all at once like a dam breaking under the weight of pure unabated emotional turmoil.

"Daddy I, I killed someone. On the way here, they leaped out so quick, I was so scared I didn't know what to do. I-"

The words shot out like a machine gun one after the next, and yet the man didn't waver even in the slightest.

"Shh, it's ok, it's all going to be ok. We have all made mistakes and you didn't do this maliciously. For now, don't worry about it. Everything is going to be just fine, do you know why I say that?"

The ginger tone of his voice betrayed his softer side, something she had missed in her nearly year long pilgrimage to the college dorms far far away.

"Hm?" She managed to force out the sound in response, clashing with her quivering voice just barely managing to conquer it.

"Because you told the truth. I've known you since you were a little girl, and I fancy myself quite a good judge of character and I'd say you're a good egg even with your mistakes. That's what matters at the end of the day."

His strong words of reassurance helped a lot more than she had ever thought they could have, and yet she couldn't figure it out, wouldn't his devotion demand justice for the killed? She considered mentioning it, but nothing came out when she opened her mouth to speak no words came out. Fear, fear had stolen her question before it ever had a chance to be born.

"Nezeah, do you know why we ended up choosing that name for you?" He asked with a smile.

"Because you saw me in your dreams and I told you it was my name?" She managed to say with a curious smile.

"Ah, not so fast! That's only half the story. You see, if that was the only reason we may have still been apprehensive of naming such a beautiful girl such a name, no, we heard you, when fully awake, we heard your voice. You were quite particular after all."

The revelation of something so fantastical was somehow easy to believe with his tone, despite her initial skepticism. Though she obviously couldn't remember the event, father rarely lied, or if he did, she certainly couldn't tell the difference.

"So, now that you've calmed yourself somewhat, mind explaining your mission? No, let me guess. Sneaking off to Edmond's room to surprise him?"

She was caught! The wise white wolf had lived up to his name, having gone white at the tender age of twenty-five, he was a wizard in terms of the family business, by all subtle accounts she was allowed to know.

"Guilty as charged." She admitted with a half smile, challenging his accusation with a hint of her own pride.

"And you may well have succeeded if you had remembered your training. Of course that's assuming I wasn't just coming down for a cup of coffee. I'm afraid fate willed this meeting. Too bad fair trespasser. You've been foiled spectacularly."

She couldn't deny it but also relished in her defeat as her father had cheered her up and reassured her in a manner, she had to admit, only he could have managed. The myriad of feelings seems to hone in to the simple fact she was safe, she was home, dysfunction be damned!

"You got me dad, guess it's a good thing I love you, or I'd have to use my secret weapon." This time the words escaped with a dozen fold confidence.

"A secret weapon you say? Has college taught you that much so fast? If so, you've certainly been working hard haven't you?"

The playful jab retorted back as her father briskly rubbed her head before stepping toward his room.

"Well, secret weapon or not, I guess you might as well see your mission to its end, I'll let you win just this once." The jovial smile followed the words into a happy ensemble ending in one final sentiment.

"Welcome home Nez."

The warmth of the statement was equal parts refreshing and reassuring, giving her a sense of comfort that allowed the exhaustion of her experience to finally surface. She was way more tired than she had at first realized, in fact, the six hour drive by itself was normally exhausting, let alone with the addition of the horrible extra event.

She moseyed over toward her goal just six doors down from her current location. The hallway was wide, beautiful and simplistic, a trait she rather enjoyed about it. The varying themes of the house were matching, but just different enough to have some nook or cranny fit for all types of folk.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

There it was, her goal, in fact, the only solitary thing she could imagine keeping her good mood in one piece. Reaching her slender hand forward she began to knock.

"Guess who?"

Her crooked smile betrayed her intent to fool her dearest little brother. In a half hearted attempt to disguise her voice, she had presented the words in a distinctly foreign attempt.

"Not going to? Don't tell me you're asleep."

Her head fell toward the floor into a distinct slump letting the happiness escape in droves.

"Nez!"

The startling mass of little brother had, in one motion, ripped open the door and leapt into her with the full force of one very happy boy. She had been taken by surprise, her legs turning to jam as she plummeted to the ground, letting out a shriek as a result of her severely startled heart. The two fell to the ground with a distinct plop onto the plush bear rug that just barely cushioned the fall. It still hurt, no, it really hurt, but she would survive, especially with the loving squeeze that made it all worth it.

"I knew you would come back soon! I saw it in my dream! That's why I stayed up!"

Esmond had just enough boyish glee in his voice that it still came out with a purely cute tone. She half never wanted his voice to go deeper, no she wanted him to stay her cute innocent little brother for life. It was a selfish desire, yes, but that didn't mean she felt bad for wishing it. Besides, what's the harm in an innocent wish?

"I was always crumby at fooling you, but I think those dreams of yours make it unfair!"

He had been having the premonitions for several years now, father said it was something that was expected, something to do with his knack for prediction or something, but she wasn't quite convinced. Esmond glanced up at her taking on a much too serious expression for his age.

"I'm sorry sis, you'll be ok."

He saw through her, even through her happiness in the moment, he was almost too good at it. When he was close to you, it was never a question of if he knew what you were feeling, but of how long until he found out.

"Caught me again have you? Well then, I'll tell you a secret."

Her smirking expression had caught him off guard returning his features to a childish curiosity, so much so, that her plan was coming to fruition.

"What is it?"

He asked as earnest and innocently as a baby bird tweeting it's very first tweet. More importantly, he has fallen squarely into her trap.

"I'm much, much happier now that I've got to see my favorite little brother."

Her devilish smirk came a moment too late to give him time to predict her tickle-bound intent. Her hands ravaged his tummy until his hands reflexively rushed to defend himself, all the while relishing in his adorable laughter. Then, when his defence was finally mounted she moved with lightning speed toward his vulnerable armpits. Success, he was completely defeated. Once the moment had settled he pouted until he could find a proper retort.

"Hmph, I'm your only little brother! That means I'm your least favorite too!"

His argument was flawless as expected, but she wasn't about to give up quite yet. After all, she was a wise college student and he was a mere middle schooler, a smart one, but no match for her wit and mastery!

"Well, if you'd prefer I consider you my least favorite, I suppose that could be arranged."

She dramatically drew her finger to her chin and gazed upward in deep thought. His expression changed over the next half-second, the war of brief attrition was reaching its last stand.

"No! I don't want that at all! I was, I was just saying!"

She had caught him like a fish to a bauble, hook, line, and sinker.

"I know you were, and that's why you're my favorite after all!"

She beamed with a smile looking down into his beautiful beige eyes. She embraced the boy firmly on her lap, squeezing him like a stuffed animal, but he didn't seem to mind at all, in fact, he never had, not even once!

"You two should be in bed by now, not wasting time in the hallway."

Cairth chimed in with a cold judgemental tone as the two looked up, the smiles slowly fading to a somber and empty look. Nez found herself biting her lip in frustration, her brow furrowing into a look betwixt pain and spite.

"Nice to see you too, big brother, oh, pardon me, too personal? I forgot you're allergic to affection right? No wait, was it emotions? Why don't you go ahead and fill me in."

Being a little surprised at how much venom came out from her words, she could feel it, the angst of the unanswered questions, the unknown fate of her once kind hearted big brother.

"You never learn do you? I suppose college was just your excuse to escape responsibility again? Do you ever get tired of running dear sister?"

His tone was cold and cruel, so much so, it had managed to squarely shatter her expectations. The heat rushing to her face was fueled in part by her exhaustion, but mostly by the uncomfortable lack of any hint of care in his words. It took every ounce of her restraint to turn to her little brother with a smile and give him a kiss on the forehead.

"Esmond, you should probably get to sleep. I love you little guy. I promise I'll be here in the morning ok? I'm staying for a week!"

The expression painted across the little boy's face was an attempt at a smile, failing miserably, though she couldn't tell if it was out of pity or a true attempt at one. Either way, she had to get him away from the fake brother.

"I understand. Goodnight Nez. Goodnight Cairth."

His somber silhouette disappeared into the deeply blue room before the familiar click of the door closing behind him created the last sound for a long moment.

"Why did you become like this Cairth?"

She whispered in a small voice under her breath, the look of pain and desperation as he walked by as proud as the leader of a pack of wolves. She was sure he couldn't hear her, and yet he turned toward her just enough to reveal the side glance of his eye.

"You don't get to know that. Mom may accept you, maybe father and Esmond too. Maybe I look like the bad guy to you. Hell, maybe I am. But, in the end you'll never understand, because there is no reason to explain it to you."

The growl in his voice was fierce and chilling, sending a cold rush down her spine. She looked stupidly at him, her jaw agape in a surreal moment staring at his back walking further and further away. She wanted to call out to him, she wanted to tell him he was a jerk, she even wanted to tell him he was a cruel bastard without a heart, but somehow, not a single sound escaped.

"Heh, what a fitting response 'sis' "

His mocking smile disappeared into the night toward his wing of the house. Her mood has flushed from fury to a mixture of anxiety and an intense desire to punch him. She should have said it, but even if she did would it change a single thing? It had been so long since he saw her as a human being, so long since he was the good brother who taught her those happy things she still cherished deep in her heart. Clasping her hand tightly, she squeezed until her skin color began to change, her legs carrying her back to her now wobbly feet.

No matter how she pondered it, no matter how her thoughts raced, she would come to the same empty, listless thought. Emptiness.

Moving with a deathly sway, the fury of the conflict had left her a zombie, no worse, a zombie with a splitting headache mere moments away from tearing up. The emptiness was replaced by a burning desire to sleep, a desire she was ten or so steps from accomplishing. There it was, her old cozy door, with a beautiful regal purple color that made her almost want to smile of not for the deep apathy still parasitically sapping her ability to outwardly express much of anything at all.

Pushing her weight against the door she slinked, twisting the knob with a force she could only attest to her wonton desire to drown her sorrows in a proper night's rest. She somewhat regretted not greeting mother but, knowing her, she was almost certainly deep in the realm of dreams and not too interested in being ejected into the mortal realm for something as simple as a greeting from her daughter that could wait until the morning. While she wasn't that close to her mother, she was familiar enough to know, waking her lead to bad things, bad things she didn't have the mood to handle right now.

Her former room was a perfect outward depiction of her style, simple, classy, and above all the other facets, neat and tidy. Having a very particular disapproval of spiders and the ilk, she had avoided having too many surprises by keeping things orderly and never cluttered. She was, perhaps, the only child in the house who never had to be told to clean her room, and she was damned proud of it.

Her bed was the only standoffish piece of furniture within the confines of her den. In two words, it looked like a princess bed, but not in that childish way that made it seem plastic, no, it was fiercely royal. Thankfully it was twice as comfortable as it was pretty to look at, which was her second favorite part. Her nightstand and window gave a piercing view of the outside, swaying trees and small solar lights as far as the eye could see.

Flopping into the bed, she found herself sinking fast into the fluffy cover as deep as a small ocean, one made of feathers thankfully. Feeling the drowsiness assault her senses she closed her eyes hugging her giant stuffed bunny. He had a name, of course, a good name at that, or at least one she was fond of. Mr. Muffin.

Now it was a far cry from perfect, but he was soft and fluffy like a giant fluffy muffin fresh from the oven. He had seen her through thousands of tears and even more one sided conversations. He was her friend, yes, even being a college student, she loved her stuffed animals. She didn't really believe in the whole growing up business, ironically in part due to her former big brother.

Not wanting to sour her mood, nor having a keen interest in having a nightmare, she quickly dismissed the thought before it could spread. Rummaging through her purse she managed to find her cell in mere moments, a feat that for one reason or another usually took many more.

The glistening screen illuminated the dimly lit room, the fairy lights tracing the outline of the room in an ambiance that felt, above all else, calming and delightful.

Checking her messages was first on her small list of things to do before allowing her heavy eyelids to win her over. Despite refreshing the screen with a quick flick, there was still zero messages awaiting her. She blamed herself for that, after all, she had just had a fight with the only two individuals she could remotely consider her friends. One was a girl named Shana, while the other was named Alice. The three had met as wide eyed newcomers to the whimsical wonder of full time dorm life. The fight in question was over a particular group of boys, one that Nez had been tricked by already. Her adamant messages reflected her love for her friends, she was just looking out for them, but they were blinded by the fork tongue allure of the pretty boys.

Oh, she was aware how good they looked, but she was a pretty good judge of character, sort of like a dog. No doubt, getting involved with the fraternity guys, or at least the most forbidden fruit of the group was almost certain to leave them broken hearted and maybe even worse. She could only hope, hope that they would take her fierce protection of them to heart, she hated seeing people she loved fall to the mercy of the snakes wearing human skin. In truth, as much as she wanted to claim it was purely judge of character, if was also what she had overheard. A conversation as flattering as two beast discussing their next meal, the memory of how they viewed her and the other girls was equal parts disgusting and chilling.

Enough is enough. She was terribly tired and wanted nothing more than to get some rest, so that was precisely what was going to happen. Tossing her phone to the side she put the back of her hand over her eyes, would everything really work out tomorrow? In some manner or another she wanted to believe it would be, but in a deeper recess of her mind she still wasn't quite convinced. A half snicker found its way to her smile, as she began to feel the exhaustion pull her eyelids downward like gravity might tug on a bowling ball tossed from a jet liner.

Almost immediately she could feel something was strange, something was different. At first, her groggy self could only accuse such a feeling as being due to the strange and mixed experiences of the day, but still, something felt off. Her consciousness felt unnaturally tugged upon, almost like a million tiny hands had firmly grasped at her soul with the intent of forcing her to a yet deeper slumber.

While she was apprehensive about it, she simply couldn't move. Something not unlike sleep paralysis had crept into her well of growing symptoms as sleep was now all but inevitable.

What a beautiful expression dove, you almost seem ready to accept it, or maybe that's still wishful thinking?

The whispers of the all familiar voice of the man from her childhood tickled in a manner that felt almost too real to be a dream. Slinking from the sound she felt it now, she was falling, infinitely in place, and much slower than should have been possible given terminal velocity.

"I'm not your dove, in fact, I'm not your anything, why can't you just leave me alone?"

The voice laughed in it's angelic and sing songy tone in response.

Because then, you'd be all alone.

Struggling against the tiny hands pulling her down in the water like fall toward the bottom of the sea or unconsciousness, she managed to break one, and then another soon after.

Struggling still? Why not just accept it? You never were a fighter, not really anyways. I, of a people should know that.

The mangled man from the car accident spoke, his tone foreign and surprisingly gentle. She felt the pangs of guilt at his next words even before they pressed to the air.

"Why didn't you try and save me? Why did you leave me? Why did you run away? Why do you get to live? Why do I have to die? Why is it so cold? Why is it so painful here? Why should you be free? Why should you breathe ever again?

The questions fired off like a shotgun, his ground meat looking face staring with ripped open eyes endlessly toward her. There were ten of him now, all of which reached up to grab her and pull her down even faster.

"I didn't do it on purpose!! It was an accident and I didn't know what to do! I was scared. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Her voice came out in a shrill screaming burst fueled from beginning to end by pure desperate guilt. She was far from over it, but still clawed at the hands for selfish desire to escape. Another half dozen hands later and she was swimming toward the surface, the silent stares just looking in a brutal judgment where words were simply not needed. Moving steadily upward she had created some distance from the endless sea of appendages that floated ever in her direction. Their speed and orientation was hazy at best, strange and unnatural, seeming to bend and break where they shouldn't have. The sickening crunch echoed even though the muddled watery filter that her nightmare had chosen. It was horrifying, yes, but she was fully intent on escaping it.

Jolting awake, her body swung up like a rocket mid flight. Realizing the dream had met its end she quickly struggled to her phone. Gazing down at the small screen, she knew something was amiss when the time began to wobble and blur, giving her a strange amalgamation of numbers.

"Still sleeping?"

She had realized it far quicker than most prior gains in lucidity, actively seeking her arm in an attempt to escape. Pinching harsh against her skin there was an almost surreal level of pain that followed it, far more intense than the abrasion itself.

Glancing about she noticed her surroundings to be very slightly different. Firstly, the faces of anyone, either digital or on the wall was blank, completely devoid of features. It was almost like if they had never had a face to begin with. The next oddity came in the sound, well, more like the lack of it. The house, being as large as it was, constantly had the sounds of something, anything going on, or the chill of the wind blowing against it, but no, it was completely devoid of the sense of sound. Attempting to use her voice came with an empty promise, no matter how she mouthed the words, she couldn't make so much as a squeak.

A wave of apprehension crossed the corner of her vision, she had sworn there was movement ever so slightly from the corner of her bed frame. Shaking her head she slapped both of her cheeks at once, bringing with it another sharp, almost sunburnt sting shooting out like electricity over her skin.

"This isn't normal, aren't dreams not supposed to hurt?"

Her words now surprisingly came out this time in a wafting airy tone that felt almost surreal. It was definitely a sound that matched the haziness only available within the confines of a dream. Her ears began to ring with the fifth sense returning, the sound of silence permeating in an almost aggressive manner. It was the unsettling type, giving her both the sense of being watched alongside an intense fear of the prior movement that may or may not have crossed at inhuman speed to the confines below her bed.

Something was distinctly wrong with the color of the room, the once hazel blend once felt like fresh coffee turned a much darker shade nearing the tones of a fresh roast served in its rawest form. Likewise, she had noticed her stuffed animals having a slight change in expression so subtly different that she had to glance twice to confirm. No, she had to be dreaming, but the aspect of pain was certainly a cause for concern. Hopping to her knees she peered toward the doorway which lead into the hallway, a faint crimson glow just barely visible through the small space at the bottom of the door.

The slight glow had cemented in her mind that it was certainly a dream by some stretch of the definition. Though, knowing herself all too well, she leaped abruptly from the bed as to avoid dangling her feet, it was a strange habit she had always had, a fear of something lurking. Hearing an eruption of whispers in her wake, hands began to pour out from beneath the beautiful bed. Staring back, she was so startled she had nearly ignored the fact the pale, dead looking appendages were seeking her out, striking at the slightest hint of life.

"Come closer honey."

The disembodied voice of her mother permeated from underneath the bed.

"We can't find you sis."

Another stolen voice resounded as the disproportionately large appendages clawed silent in the near perfect darkness. Not eager to move and garnish the attention of the grim hands, she held her breath. She only had a matter of moments before the grasping claws would reach her. Taking a split second chance, she tossed a nearby potted plant against the window. Slowly, the ceramic collided with the glass causing a loud shattering echo. In that moment she sprinted toward the door with adrenaline and fear seeping through her achy muscles.

Her plan had garnished enough attention that most of the appendages lashed out, impaling the greedy hands with broken glass and the remains of the pot. The shrill cry of what she supposed was the real voice of the monster under the bed filled the room as it brutally thrashed around the room. She fumbled with the doorknob leaping through the door, quickly finding her chin colliding with the ground in a nauseatingly painful trip. It wasn't her doing however, as she felt the horrible grip of an unnaturally large hand digging it's nails into her pants leg. Slowly, what remained of her forward momentum drew to a creeping stall.

"There you are."

"Why don't you join us darling."

The chillingly cruel hints to the borrowed voices did nothing but cause her struggling to mount into a cruel crescendo of thrashing. The unnatural strength of the hand was threatening to take her in a brief moment if she lost her grip upon the door frame even slightly. All at once the crescendoing force of the hand had ripped her pants giving her a precious moment before it's second reach could contact her. Rolling into the hallway she placed her back firmly against the wall noticing the hand struggling to escape from beyond the door frame. It has reached it's limit and she had escaped by pure luck and at the expense of her pants. Still, she preferred to give up an article of clothing over her life or limb any day. The deep claws had left a deep gash in her leg, skinning her partially, but leaving her with functionality and razor sharp pain. Each step felt like a bed of spikes instead of the hardwood that persisted below. She crept with the utmost stealth through the gruesome parody of her family estate. The deathly quiet had returned once more in the wake of the gruesome mimic.

Just what was it? What was any of this? Pinching is one thing but shouldn't a deep wound like this force her from her slumber? There wasn't much she could confirm, only that she didn't fancy trying her luck with getting caught by whatever other creatures may be lurking throughout the house. Each step was more cautious than the last as she noticed the door toward the end of the hallway cracked open and fresh moonlight seeping through. To her side was the entrance to the bathroom chained shut with a small whimpering and sobbing sound permeating from within. The staggering amount of chains and locks made it look more like a vault than a casual bathroom. Her hand stopped silently against the door as she put an ear pressed firmly against the cold wood.

She couldn't make out what was being said by any means but the mixture of soft whimpers and a second comforting voice made her immediately question why they sounded so very familiar, almost like a recording straight from the past. Pulling herself abruptly she heard a far more uncomfortable sound of footsteps scurrying about the hallway, footprints forming from nowhere and going blissfully up the walls and even walking upon the ceiling leaving their tar like footprints without any other hint that they existed at all.

She had made the mistake of standing in the path of one such invisible creature, for a moment it appeared to have ceased existence right then and there. Then, a moment later a deep guttural growling began, two blood red eyes much larger than a human opened gruesomely wide, a row of disembodied teeth following suit with the disembodied creature's disturbing advance. She fell backwards reflexively, avoiding a gruesome lunge of teeth and eyes. The creature turning to face her again, she stumbled into a run, making a mad dash toward the moon basked room. The growling beast chased with thunderous footsteps and convulsing eyes, it's breath was on the back of her neck, the foul odor of death escaping with it's snarl.

Closing the door behind her she scrambled for the lock, finding it just in time to be thrown backward from the charge of the invisible creature. A massive invisible claw pierced through the door as if it was paper, before the moonlight escaped into the hallway unabated. The creature began to whimper and cry as smoke began to sear it's invisible flesh, the likes of which smelled oddly familiar, oddly appetizing despite the circumstances. It fled away, or so she supposed, as it was very difficult to track the movements of a mostly invisible being. In any case, it was no longer attempting to cleave its way through the door, so she took a moment to catch her breath and survey the peculiar room she had entered.

The bright contrast of the moon beams compared to the piercing darkness created a land before her of black and white. The only objects in the room had nearly stopped her heart. A sea of frowning faces looked in all sorts of directions, each holding a pointed object, from scissors, to forks, to a strange piece of glass. All except one, one strange mannequin with a smirk holding a photo in the stark contrast of the window sill, bathing in the pristine glow of moonlight.

Creeping past them one after the next gave the feeling of stares, in part due to their extremely "uncanny valley" appearance. They looked just real enough to be human but just fake enough that she didn't have any doubt of their plastic or porcelain nature. The silence once again began to cause a familiar ringing in her ears, the likes of which made her slow approach toward the picture all the more suspenseful. The picture was one she had certainly seen before, one of her with her dearest friend, only it was distorted and had a message across it in blood red ink.

Reaching out to grasp it she attempted to make sense of the message as she felt it slip into her hands. It was a nostalgic picture of Amilia smiling and Nez with a pout, despite her situation, a slight smile crossed her face. It was summertime, one of the numerous days the two had hung out around the lake, of which peeked out in the background of the photo. She had almost allowed herself to forget the blood red text now slowly sapping her smile more by the second.

"The guilty shall know the weight of sin. Dance, dance and play in the entrails of your own making."

She couldn't help but think back to the man she had killed, how his dying face ceased to be human, turning instead into a pulverized meat puppet. Uncomfortable with even the thought she witnessed the picture begin to change, the faces, expression and background melted away like paint seeping down from a canvas. The slowly twisting features played with her senses, appearing almost as surreal as they were gradually fading to a horrific parody of the original.

Chills crawled their way down her spine when she saw it, when she realized the ends to this particular means. She remained the same, but a new face or what's left of one entered the picture beside the half dissolved face of Amelia.

"No. No! I don't want to see this! I-"

A purely gruesome and surreal sensation assailed her senses, looking down came with an almost too calm realization.

A series of glistening points had magnificently pierced her midsection, no doubt cleaving past her left kidney in the process. Tense muscles refused to relax, her lungs refused to inhale out of pure and terrible shock. Turning her head back she noticed familiar faces, only this time ever so slightly different.

They were smiling. The lifeless human sized dolls were smiling while holding their myriad of weapons now plunged into her pierced kidney.

Feeling a deeply wet cough surface she tasted the blood with every drop of its raw metallic taste covering the inside of her mouth.

They didn't move, but she didn't dare break her stare, a deep convulsing shake assaulted her body, like an old woman staggering on the street. Taking a sharp breath she pressed her weight forward, screaming out in full force at her inoculate attempts at rebellion. Fury and fear flushed her vision as she ripped a portion of her shirt with desperate, shaky hands. Tying a brutally tight bandage across her still soaked midsection she gritted her teeth, unwilling to let the pain decimate her more than it had already. The cruel scowl of betrayal firmly found itself on her face, she couldn't explain why fury had won over fear but it had, and she had no time for it.

Barreling into the hateful mockeries of humanity was satisfying, she has even managed to break the limb off of one of them, strangely, blood seeped out even if the creature kept it's smile through it all. Every time she would blink they would respond, a moment, no two or three sometimes. If wasn't just blinks, no, it was her look which stopped their angry march. She ran as fast as she could, now finding the formally chained bathroom door open. Faced with the choice of the small room or the open hallway, she quickly chose the bathroom due to it having a barrier, and the hope that these creatures were less brutally strong like the last two had been.

Slamming and locking the various locks behind her she stammered for the lights. Nothing. There was no power, and though it didn't really surprise her it was unsettling as the tub appeared to be filled with some kind of liquid, worse yet, she didn't know if she was alone or not.

Peeling her attention away from the room was a series of knocks that rapped against the door with an almost civility to them. Small voices permeated the silence, accompanied only by the occasional dripping of a faucet into the unnerving and mysterious bathtub.

"You must understand."

"Make things right."

"Face the truth, it will set you free."

"Have you a heart at all?"

"Do you feel no guilt?"

"Your sins are sewn in blood."

"We are your salvation. We are your escape."

"You hate us."

"But we love you."

The hive mind sounding creatures spoke one after the next, each one hailing in a different tone and method to its voice. She felt their words pierce through what defense she could muster. Her dim vision catching no signs of them ceasing from beneath the doorway. Instead, she heard movement from the tub, like a being or object slowly surfacing to the top. She froze, daring not to move, the horrific sounds painted a picture of some far more horrific creature slowly raising and staring daggers into her backside.

"She knows."

"What you saw that day but pushed away."

"The feeling of melting like a witch in water."

"The feeling of betrayal. The feeling of hatred and helplessness."

"How will you make this right?"

"You can't run forever."

"You can't smile or it will be ripped off."

"Don't look back."

"Don't look back."

"Or everything will come to an end."

The hurried ensemble crescendoed into a cruel warning. She heard the swashing of a thick liquid that denoted the movement of whatever it was that lurked behind her. Her heart raced, no longer able to feel the prior fury, only a sickening, gut wrenching terror. She didn't know if looking was more dangerous or not, but whatever it was now was closing the small few steps of distance toward her. It's wet, meaty, steps were small but sounded extremely pained. Breathing broke the silence, the quivering type, almost like a zombie moaning. That made her shivers all the worse, she was trapped and relegated her to the most helpless of fates.

A wet, bloody drip found its way to her shoulder as long tendrils of half liquified hair tickled at her back. The haggard breathing continued to struggle, covering the small distance to her ear. The breathing stopped for a moment and began an attempted sound, something she assumed was meant to be words but they were so wobbly she couldn't understand them at first.

"Why did you do it?"

The gruesomely clear voice spoke in her ear, it was such a wet statement that a bucket of water, or whatever the creature had within it's terribly destitute lungs.

"Why didn't you save me Nez?"

She recognized it, even through the sickening bubbling there was no way she could ever forget the one she had promised to stay best friends forever, no matter what. Tears welled up, she couldn't hold back, the voice she had wished would come back no matter what, asking the question she never wanted to hear.

"I wanted to! I wanted to help you, but I was too scared. I regret it. I'm so sorry."

The voice began to cry alongside her, the gurgling tears making her heart hurt that much more, it was pure torture, she'd have rather been killed on the spot.

"I want to believe you."

The gurgling voice spoke, but quickly followed up with a pitifully sobbing sound.

" I just can't Nez, I can't. "

Hearing her best friend say after all these years such a cruel and wounding statement wounded her even more than the sharp pain at her side, and shamefully even more than the man who lay dead last night due to her mistake.

"But I-"

Nez turned, desperately trying to give her friend a hug. She wanted more than anything to tell her she loved her, to tell her she missed her and how her life had never been the same without her. Instead there was nothing, it was worse than if she had turned to kill her, worse than being stabbed again, because this time, it was made painfully clear, she had lost such a right.

Wailing out with all the repressed emotions of years of therapy undone in a single moment, a single moment in a sick twisted dream no less. Why couldn't it have been anyone else? Why couldn't it have been a monster to end her suffering? She would have rather died. She would have rather been tortured than have to relive the vivid memories of her best friend's true feelings. Try as she might, she couldn't forget it. Every time she thought it was gone she would see her again. Sitting in that bath tub full of hydrochloric acid slowly dissolving away. A girl just barely starting her life, one that was so sweet she couldn't even hurt the spiders that she feared so much, dying. Not even getting the luxury of death for so many hours. She saw it, far too much of it, down to the bones.

"Oh Amelia, I just wish I could go back. I wish I was brave."

Her sentiment barely met the air, partially due to the streaming tears and snot that blocked her senses, funneling her into a deep, consuming darkness. She flung herself to her feet, working fast to unlock the series of locks that fell to the side like the after thoughts that crossed her mind. All she wanted was to make something else feel like she did in that moment, all she wanted was for a sick twisted form of empathy, understanding beyond any words. Only actions would be enough.

The mannequins stood outside with their sickening smiles still painted across their face. Peeling her eyes back as much as she could she grasped a pair of scissors gritting her teeth and tackling the first mannequin to the ground.

"You want to help me don't you?"

She plunged the scissors down viciously piercing with unflinching love, love in the form of the most purest concept of revenge.

"Do you feel it? Do you feel what I feel like? Of course you don't."

Her vicious voice escaped with each descending strike of the scissors. It's blood seeping from it's now open chest cavity. It was like she was performing surgery if not for the familiar sight of the ground beef looking innards.

"So you're just like him?"

She ripped the arms off another mannequin, only to bash another crushing it's head flat out like a pumpkin. The blood sprayed across the wall, painting a beautiful picture of how she felt, which in some regards she couldn't explain, in others it was as clear as day. She enjoyed it, the sickening revel of sadism against the monsters. It was what they deserved for hurting it right? The watering in her eyes threatened to cause her to blink, so she ran a distance away before closing her eyes for a moment. When her vision regained she saw them crying over their lost friends, trying to save them and enacting a scene that looked like a rescue mission. It was so hilarious to her, she couldn't just let them be could she? No, not after breaking to this point, not after they tried to kill her. It was still justice wasn't it?

Walking steadily back toward the group she delimbed another two, beating another brutally to death with the leg of one of the two prior victims. The gore and blood of her small rampage painted a room with limbs and blood, so much so, that she started to wonder if she was the monster now. It felt like justice. It felt like it was her right, yes, she had to keep thinking it or she wouldn't be able to see it to the end.

At this point only one had remained in a condition to move when she broke line of sight, only there was a catch. She pinned the poor creature down and started into its eyes, she blinked several times, and as she thought, the creature was helpless, appearing to beg for it's life.

She felt a little bit bad, the amusement of venting her adrenaline and anguish at Amelia's lack of forgiveness and her own feelings of intense apathy felt the full brunt of guilt. Monsters or not, she felt it was too late, her hatred for the creatures had lead her to the small genocide, and now, this lone survivor was quivering if she shut her eyes for any extended period of time. The growing guilt of her actions reached a point beyond her breaking point, she broke off the poor creature's head.

It was for two reasons, one because she couldn't accept it, she couldn't trust the strange creature, secondly this was some kind of dream, and she didn't want it to come back seeking revenge. The gruesome remains of her enemies painted her hands red, but somehow, because it wasn't the first time, her guilt soon turned to a bitter determination to survive.

She wanted to find her brother, and if the dream could hurt her it no doubt had a measure of a chance to kill her, one thing was certain she was not going to go down without a fight. Grasping her favorite of the particularly sharp objects, an old rusty kitchen knife, just the right size and weight to fit in her hand comfortably.

She began her walk through the manor, most of which appeared to be completely and perfectly empty. No matter where she searched there was nothing, no sign of life, no sounds. As she returned toward the second floor she decided to travel to the third floor to check it for any sign of life. Loneliness almost made her wish the mannequins were still around, as some part of her was convinced she would be stuck in this place alone for all eternity.

Falling against a wall in her attempts to find a means to the third floor, her body was feeling the brunt of the damage, no longer able to stall with the good graces of adrenaline. Instead a wobbly spinning in her head took its place. Looking forward down the first floor hallway she heard a sound, the first one since she had ripped off the head of the last mannequin. This time it was a strange and misplaced sound, even through her muffled hearing, it sounded like a laugh.

Arid and full of glee the disembodied voice had found its place, a place which was ten steps behind her.

"You've made a bit of a mess haven't you."

The half mocking tone of the beautiful man came across perfectly clear, and set her on full alert.

"Who are you?"

The man stepped into the light, causing her mouth to hang open in an intense cocktail of emotions. It was him, the man who had killed them, the man who spared her and the man she had never managed to fully escape, at least within the confines of her mind.

"You already know who I am so very well, but if names must be given, you can call me Jack."

The beautiful man reminded her of Satan, or at least how the mythos would define him, beautiful, tricky and evil. Constantly trying to deceive and manipulate her, he was always there when he wanted to be, never letting her escape even after stealing her best friend from her.

"Why are you of all people here? Here to mock me?"

The man laughed and placed a hand pressing his bangs back, his face glistening into a smile.

"Mock is such a strong word, I prefer help. I'm here to make you a deal after all."

She huffed in rebellion from the beautiful and hateful existence standing squarely in front of her now.

"And if I say I'm not interested?"

He smiled and drew his finger beneath her chin forcing her to stare straight into his eyes.

"Oh no, I think misunderstand me my dear, this isn't a deal you can very well turn down anymore. No, not after your handiwork, of which I must admit is great. But, the point is, you can't say no if there simply isn't another option."

She grimaced and thrashed her head from the cold of his touch.

"You just think I'll go right along with something like this?"

He looked at her with such a pitiful expression, one that seemed equal parts empathetic and confident.

"Oh, you poor girl, you've already failed. You are every bit as beautiful as you are stupid it seems. Time to wake up. Wake up and smell the ashes."

He descended upon her lips, stealing them in a most hateful kiss, she thrashed but found herself caught off guard by the melting view of her surroundings. Everything faded to a deep black, her body going numb as she felt a thousand pinpricks which she attempted to shake off. Surprisingly, she could move again, even if her surroundings began to fade into a more normal version of her family's manner. A sharp and agonizing pain caught her off guard, persisting in the center of her chest. Her hazy vision went in and out of focus as it looked like something was protruding from her chest, something that was squarely placed where her sternum should have been.

She tried to move left and right only to figure out there was a spear like piece of metal that pinned her gruesomely against the wall. Any attempt to move it caused a massive, shooting pain to cut like a blade of electricity over her many, many nerves.

"You've certainly seen better days, haven't you my love?"

The hateful spectre of Jack loomed over her, mocking her deathly situation without a tasteless joke.

"Hey, don't hate me, I didn't do it. Now why don't you get yourself free, unless you just enjoy being impaled through the chest. Not my choice of pastime but, I'll be happy to keep you company. "

She gritted her teeth trying to pry free of the pipe, but it was far too deep within the confines of the wall behind her. Being impaled was quite troublesome, as it didn't allow for much movement, in fact, there was only two options.

One, she could try to break it free as she was currently attempting.

Two, she could work her way up the remainder of the pipe before ripping herself out.

"I would go with the second one."

She glared at him coldly as she realized he could peer into even her innermost thoughts. It felt gross, seeing him in a full bodied form, his endlessly mocking existence inspired her, if nothing else, to have a distraction from the pain. Her body moved forward as she attempted a painful movement forward. She could feel the broken bone and flesh being cleaved with each successive moment.

The next set of movements made the pain and intensity escalate a dozen times, easily making her sure she was moments from losing her life.

"You worry about the strangest things."

After reaching the end of the shaft, it was only one last push until she was free of her impalement. She shifted her remaining weight forward hearing the gruesome sound of flesh ripping into what felt like a scene of pure gore.

She fell to the floor looking squarely at one of Jack's feet.

"Going to stay down there? Don't be that way, you're not good at pretending to be weak love."

He held out his hand to help her up, but she quickly realized he was nothing more than a ghost, there was no physical help he could offer.

Running her hands over her chest, she dared not to look at the whole, but she had to assess the damage, it would, no doubt, require medical attention. Strangely she couldn't find it, she could feel the pain clear as day, stinging deeply in the fulmination of broken bone shards and sickening stabbing pain. Yet, no matter where, it was complete. There was no hole, not even a scratch to prove it ever happened.

"Did you realize it yet? I won't spoil it, but I'm sure you could tell if you just look."

The phantom pointed across the room toward a shattered mirror, discarded and in pieces across the room. The room was almost more eerie than before the appearance of the hateful phantom, she couldn't even tell if was sleeping or awake. It was anything but clear, but wherever she was, she simply couldn't explain the happening of her phantom or lack of injuries.

Looking about, she could see it, the remains of something in the distance. Making her way up the steps toward the second story hallway, she could see a hunched over sobbing silhouette, it appeared to be holding something, or rather, someone. Her heart began to sink as she recognized them, she could see her brothers and far more concerning, she could see Esmond completely unresponsive.

"Esmond!!"

She ran toward the two only to garnish a glare from her eldest brother who's eyes looked like a mother bear protecting its cub.

"Don't you dare say his name you monster!"

Cairth's shaking voice crescendoed into a cruel glare and a very real revolver pointed at her, forcing her to freeze in her tracks.

"Brother? Why? I know you don't like me, but this is too far! We have to get him help, we have to-"

The sound of the gunshot came before the scrambling pain that assaulted her head. It was like a headache only so very much worse, she could feel it puncture straight through her brain. He had shot her, in cold blood, and despite her surviving, she couldn't believe it. Trying to move her hand she lifted it to the side and began to right herself. How was she alive? She couldn't understand it, shouldn't she have died from the brutal cleaving of her brain?

"Do you understand now sister? You're caused this. You're the reason why it, why Esmond is suffering. And here you are, trying to play this off as though you're some kind of benevolent sister, what kind of sister does what you did and has the nerve to have that expression. Why won't you just die?"

Fumbling to her feet she couldn't understand what he was talking about, it was like he was talking about someone else.

"I didn't do anything Cairth! I woke up impaled and-"

The resounding and repetitious sound of gunshots filled her ears until it began to fade, until it felt like she was underwater.

"I guess this is the end…"

"Ah, where's the fun in that? We've only just begun."