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Part 48 of 🖤Murder Drones🩶
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Published:
2025-04-21
Updated:
2025-06-20
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13,158
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6/?
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224
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Meant to Be Yours (I Am All That You Need)

Summary:

N and Cyn Elliot are trapped in their fourth-floor apartment, unable to leave by any way except a balcony. Their neighbor plays her music too loud, and it doesn’t help that they’re starving day by day. Chances of receiving food are little to none, but neither one has fully given up hope.

One day, they’ll escape and figure out what to do with each other. One day…..a day that’s much too far away.

Notes:

Chapter 1: In a cramped apartment reside two siblings

Notes:

Notes: Cyn’s POV is gonna be weird, so sorry ‘bout that in advance. I figured that it would be easier to differentiate the two if I made her just weird.

Anyways, this is a requested fic for BHoliday0, and I hope you enjoy it. I’m not sure how much of the canon game I’ll do, but I’m definitely planning on avoiding the r*pe scene from EP3 because that was absolutely horrifying to read.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

  “I-I don’t wanna do this, Cynnie…….”

 

  “Well, I do!” 

 

|•|


  Shadows whisper in my veins as I open my eyes, but they quickly flee before I can catch them. I rub the sleep away from them and yawn, slipping out of bed and grabbing my crutches. 

 

  GOOD MORNING, CYN!!

 

  A silent chuckle passes through my lips, just like I pass by my dog plushie Pilot. I pat her head and hum to myself as I make my way to the kitchen. It’s just as small and cramped as I remember, and I step over the overstuffed trash bags in order to search through the pantry in yet another attempt to find some nutrients. Nothing, nothing, what’s that? Could it be? More nothing? Oh, my God, it’s….it’s absolutely, positively, completely and utterly NOTHING!!!!! Frowning, I slam the door and go back to my bedroom. 

 

  N is still asleep on his bed, so I grab our dirty clothes and take them to the bathroom and throw them into the washer. I watch as the colors spin ‘round and ‘round, as dizzying and hypnotic as a school of jellyfish on cocaine. I sit down, and that’s when my stomach decides to be a pain and grumble. I poke it, but it ignores me and grumbles again and again. I repeat the action but accidentally jab myself in the ribs, and a low whine escapes me as pain floods through my veins. Rubbing the offended area, I lie onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. 

  If six months plus us Elliots equals sadness, what is X? The answer is the most annoying neighbor on this planet. She never shuts up, and while I want her dead, I’d rather she die after turning her god-awful music off. Whoever made and recorded it should be fined and given the Prometheus treatment. I’d be willing to pay all of my five bucks and sixty-nine cents to see that go down live. Unfortunately, the gal was like a roach and wouldn’t die yet. What was her name? Eh, who cares. She’ll be dead and buried four feet deep sooner than later. We all will eventually. 

 

  “There you are,” a low, sleepy voice says, and my head snaps up. 

 

  I raise my arms, and N picks me up as if I’m nothing more than a plushie. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he carries me into the area that doesn’t really qualify as a living room. He puts me on his lap and turns the TV on, and his hand runs through my tangled, white hair. Every so often, he unintentionally touches my neck, and my skin burns at every little bit of contact. His touch was once canary yellow but turned duller and duller with every month that went by.

 

  “I-I miss Tessie,” I say. “Where are her clothes?”

 

  N chuckles and wraps an arm around me. “You’d drown in them,” he says. 

 

  “Drowning is fun,” I tell him. “It’s like sleeping but watery and more bitter-tasting! It kinda tastes like chlorine and apple seeds.”

 

  “What?” He shakes his head, and I can feel his hair whipping against my head. “Never mind. Don’t answer that.”

 

  I sigh as he moves his arm down to my stomach, and he locks me in place as if I’m some sorta adorable criminal. Maybe I am, who knows? Well, I guess N does. N….and that awful, piece of shit slut he calls a girlfriend. She knows, even if she doesn’t know she knows. She’s so annoying and idiotic and blind that she doesn’t even know who she befriended. Oh, well. I don’t have to worry about anything as long as she stays ignorant. 

 

  “I-I’m hungry,” I say, and he reaches up to put his finger in my mouth. I bite down softly and chew, and a laugh rumbles in his throat. “Feed me.”

 

  “Sorry, Cyn, but there’s nothing left,” he murmurs. “I’m sure the warden will give us something soon, though. I heard Doll get some food the other day.”

 

  “Doll?” I ask, frowning. Who is that, and why is her name so pretty? I want it, I want it, I want it. 

 

  “Our crazy neighbor,” N says, and I bite down again. He winces, and I lick the bite mark and taste his skin and trace over his nail. “Why must you do this?”

 

  “It’s fun,” I tell him, voice muffled. “You taste good, like salted caramel.” 

 

  N chuckles and ruffles my hair, and we sit and watch horror movies until it’s dark out. As I shower, I pause and stare at the water, holding my hand out. Droplets land on me, but I don’t feel any wiggly parasites wriggling around and trying to devour my flesh. Oh, well, I can’t be lucky all the time. I finish up and get my nightgown on before heading into Tessa’s room, and I lie on her bed and curl up. 

 

  The purple walls are still covered in all the posters of shows she once adored, and the lilac and cream bedding is just as soft as it’s always been. Her bookshelf is still broken from when I threw a canvas at it, and I take ahold of the only plushie she left behind. It’s a small, gothic rabbit, but I’ve long since forgotten the original name. I just call it Milk. She left it behind when she went to college. Well, she thinks she left it behind. 

  She left. 

  She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left. She left.

 

  She left me. 

 

  I hate her. 

 

  Burrowing under her blankets, I close my eyes and listen to the horrid music coming from next door. It’s too loud, and I wish I had a gun to shoot. Why did she leave me? I want to shoot the stupid speakers to death. Why did she leave me? Wasn’t I good enough? Bang-bang, no more sound. She shouldn’t have left. No, no, she shouldn’t have left to go be with what’s her name? Went off and left to college and disappeared from my life. No, no, no. 

 

  Why, why, WHY?

 

|•|

 

  I’m hungry again. 

 

  The dryer is rumbling away in the bathroom, no doubt continued by N after I forgot yesterday. What day is it? Are the parasites still alive? I doubt it, they’re just useless l’il things that are only good for eating through people’s stomachs. How long have we been here? A month, five, ten, a year? Ah, no matter, the wardens will let us die before even remembering to feed us. 

 

  Even a dog is more loved than us. Even a dog. 

 

  I crawl out of bed and drag myself along the floor, no caring that it hurts my legs. I make my way over to the couch and stand up, shaking, and curl up against the armrest. The TV is in again, the news this time. The newscast is some middle-aged man with too-shiny hair that obviously fake and crooked teeth that make me think of gravestones and dead leaves the scent of pinecones. I smooth out my nightgown skirt and turn the volume up, but my expression doesn’t change as he talks. 

 

  “We are sad to report that the Appleton, Lovelace, Barkin, and and Burton Apartments are still infected from the deadly parasitic outbreak. This is the sixth month of the outbreak, and scientists see no reason to develop a vaccine so quickly,” he says with a slight chuckle. “Now, to everyone who is being so obedient and following our quarantine protocols, I want to truly thank you from the bottom of my heart…..for keeping your disgusting, parasite-infected bodies away from me.” 

 

  The remote smashes into the TV screen. 

 

  “Rough morning, huh?” N asks as he sits down beside me. I switch positions and rest my head on his lap, and he braids my hair. “Wanna watch X Files?”

 

  “No,” I mumble. “They’re all boring now.” 

 

  “We could watch “Home” again,” he offers, but I feel him shudder beneath me. 

 

  “You hate that one,” I say. “You say it’s scary.”

 

  “It is!” he exclaims, then he yelps as I squeeze his knee. 

 

  The haunting and unsettling tones of minor key music make me roll my eyes and slap a pillow over my ear, but the sound penetrates the fabric and stuffing and non-consensually invades my body. I groan, and N pats my head and wraps an arm around me and pulls me up to his chest. I straddle his lap and put my head on his shoulder, and I glare at the walls that lead to the stupid neighbor’s apartment. Sticking my tongue out, I raise my hand and flip her off, smiling smugly even though she can’t see me. 

 

  “Why don’t you shower, then we can spy on her?” N suggests, and I nod and climb off of him. As I leave the room, however, I can hear him walking over to the phone. My body stiffens as he dials someone, and my blood boils when I hear one letter. 

 

  V. 

 

  Goddamn Viola Willows. 

 

  Moving away on shaky legs, I pretend that everything is fine as I enter the bathroom. Why her? What’s so good about her? She’s just a brat whose only positives are her appearance, and even that’s garbage. She looks like every pretty other girl on TV. At least I look more like a doll. That’s cuter….right? Even her personality sucks. I don’t understand why N spent so much time with her. I’m right here. I’ve been right here for nineteen years, goddamn it! Why does he love her?!

 

  “H-Hey, V, I’ve just been wondering how you’re doing,” N says, and there’s a muffled voice on the other end. “That’s good! H-How’s Sparky? Oh…uh, okay….sorry for asking. Is J okay?”

 

  I shut the bathroom door before I have to hear anything else. I shower quickly and put on a decently clean, yellow summer dress as well as a black hair bow, then return to his feet like an obedient little kitten. N doesn’t even look at me, and the annoying music ramps up even more. Pouting, I paw at the phone cord, and my bow flops at my temples as if they’re cat ears. N finally ruffles my hair, and I purr and let out a tiny meow. 

 

  “Oh, yeah, Cyn’s with me now,” he says, and the chatter on the other line goes silent. “I-i can call you later…..oh. Oh, okay. Sorry. Bye, V.”

 

  “Demon time?” I ask, rolling onto my back and settling on his lap. He pats my tummy, and I meow again. “Demon-demon time!” 

 

  I spring up, wincing as the ground is rudely introduced to my ankles and immediately decides to pick a fight, and I clap my hands as N goes to get the balcony key. He won’t let me even have the copy of it for some reason. I dunno why. It’s totally not like I’d throw myself off if I stay in this apartment any longer! 

 

  N unlocks the door, and I rush outside and catch myself on the balcony. He makes a worried sound and meets me, then I point to the next door balcony and slap my palms against the railing. He sighs and shrugs, saying, “No idea how we’ll get across. You have any ideas, buddy?”

 

  I pause, plopping to the table bench and fiddling with Louisa’s old ashtray. It’s cracked and filled in with gold, some ancient heirloom or another crappy thing that doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. It’s pretty sturdy and would probably be good for breaking over someone’s head if it came down to it. Maybe if the warden or V ever came by…..BAM BAM BANG!

 

  “Giggle,” I say, running my finger along the edge. “Oh! I know!” 

 

  N raises an eyebrow but steps aside as I run back into Tessie’s room. I skid to a stop, nearly crashing into the mahogany bookshelf. I grab the board and pull, forcing it away from the rest of the furniture. It breaks with a sickeningly loud CRACK, but if Tessa didn’t want me to break it, she really shouldn’t have me behind. It’s really only fair! I skip back to N and just barely make it in time when my legs give out. 

 

  I fall face-first to the ground while N puts the board on the railings. I drag myself across the ground, probably ruining my dress, but it’s something that N can fix later today, I’m sure. I climb across the board and peek into the door window, but I can’t see into it. Pouting, I glance around and grab a surprisingly solid box and stand on it, gasping and clapping when I see my neighbor. 

 

  She’s pretty, with long purple hair and red and black robes that drape around her ankles. I’ll think she’s the same heigh as N, so she probably has a foot or so on me. Great, that means she’ll fall harder and with a loud crash. How fun! She turns, and I can just barely see that her large eyes are red. She’s focused on something down on the floor. A quick look down reveals a pentagram drawn onto the floor. The color makes me think it’s blood, but it’s probably just paint. That’s so boring. 

 

  The music grows to a deafening volume, and I frown and press against N as he joins me. Right as I’m about to knock on the door to scare the hell out of her, the music turns down as she starts to speak. 


  
  “О, великий Владыка Абсолютного Решателя, даруй мне свою силу!” she exclaims, and her voice is deeper than I expected. It’s pretty, I guess. 

 

  The lights flicker, but that’s all they do. No fancy tricks or a blackout, not even some fog. Whatever, how lame. All of this….for a random demon worshipper. I wanna go back to sleep and dream about all the food I’ll never eat again, and that is basically self-torture at this point. Maybe N will let me watch some more X-rated movies later, and maybe I’ll be bored enough to eavesdrop on his dumb conversations with Miss Petty. 

 

  “That’s a bit shit, innit?” I ask softly, and N sighs and helps me off the box. “I’m going back inside. You’re coming with me, Nate.”

 

  “I figured I’d stay and watch a bit longer,” N says. 

 

  My body stiffens, and my head slowly turns back to face him. Gritting my teeth, I grab him by the shirt and attempt to drag him after me. Unfortunately, starvation has taken more of a toll than I’d like, and he doesn’t even budge. We’ve barely eaten in the past four months, and he still has at least twenty pounds on me! Unfair, unfair, unfair!

 

  I glare at him and pout, putting my hand on my hip and raising my palm up. “C’mon. Don’t leave me alone.”

 

  “I haven’t been outside in months,” he says. “Besides, maybe it’ll be nice to talk to Doll.”

 

  I stare up at him, confusion burning in my blood. Grabbing my skirt, I spin around and stomp back to our apartment, slamming the door shut like it owes me money. It does at this point. The amount of times I’ve been slammed into it is ridiculous, and I demand compensation for its crimes against me. 

  If he wants to stay out there instead of having fun and spending time with me, fine. I’ll leave him to rot. 

Notes:

N—Andrew.
Cyn—Ashley.
V—Julia.
J—Jane.
Uzi—Nina.
Doll—that one cultist.
AbsoluteSolver—demon.

Tessa is N and Cyn’s older sister, and Cyn absolutely idolizes her, even more than she loves N. Tessa also kinda acts like Andrew before she got overwhelmed and dumped Cyn onto N.

Chapter 2: Dreams and secrets reside within her mind

Summary:

Cyn dreams and remembers.

Notes:

Whoo, new chapter. Honestly, this fic is turning out better than the other one I wrote. Cyn and N have better chemistry when it comes to this fic, and it’s so much easier to write. I’ve also been rewatching Manly play the game, so that helps.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

  “Uzi said she thinks you’re cute,” I say as I grab a purple crayon, making Nate spit out his soda all over the floor. Mom will have his head for that. His head whips to face me, and I shrug and go back to coloring. “She thinks you’re really cute, and she wants to be your girlfriend.”


  “That’s…..weird,” Nate says. “She’s your age….that’s gross.”

 

  My paper tears beneath my crayon. Tears well up in my eyes, and I grit my teeth. “It’s not gross!” I exclaim. “She’s the gross one!”

 

  Nate raises an eyebrow, and I cross my arms and pout. He doesn’t look at me, why not?! C’mon, look at me! Instead, he just rolls his straw around and shakes his head. I drop my gaze to the ground and bite on my tongue, chewing on it like it’s the only bit of food around for miles. He stays quiet, and I go back to nearly tearing the paper with every scribble. 

  “Cynnie….Uzi’s the one with the purple eyes, right?” Nate asks quietly, and I glare at him. “I’m gonna assume that’s yes. Isn’t she in your math class.”

 

  “I dunno,” I say as I reach over to grab a sugar cookie lollipop from the other end of the table. I pop it in my mouth, feeling his eyes on me. “She’s boring and lame. I don’t like her.”

 

  “Why not?”

 

  “Because you’re my brother! She’s not supposed to wanna be with you! You’re mine, not hers!” My voice echoes off the walls, and a wave of guilt slams into me. Tessie’s still napping upstairs. My face burns as I grab a red crayon to use for the blood. I scrawl it all around the girl in the box, humming out of tune and rocking back and forth. 

 

  Nate sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “You’re impossible,” he finally mutters. “Girls are weird.”

 

  “Tessie’s not weird!” I exclaim, glaring again. “She’s the best sister ever!”

 

  “She’s weird,” he says, nodding like some great sage or whatever other annoyingly wise person existed. “She’s weird.”

 

  I whack him with the paper, and he gives me a disappointed look. “She’s not weird! Besides, I think Uzi needs to be taught a lesson. A big, big, BIG lesson!”

 

  “In what?” N asks. 

 

  What? 

 

  Blinking, I push my lip out and shrug. “Dunno. Something. She deserves it. Yeah, she deserves it.”

 

  N rolls his eyes and reaches out to tug on my braid, the one Tessie helped me with earlier. “You’re all….what’s the word? Bugsy. You’re bugsy.” He laughs, and I go back to drawing Uzi. 

 

|•|

 

  There’s someone in my bed with me. A hand is wrapped around my body, and they’re breathing on my neck. It’s warm and comforting, and I lean into them and get greeted by something hard that pokes into my leg. Twisting around, I grab a small tube of candy and peer inside. 

 

  Rat bastard ate all the candy. Wait, candy? 

 

  My eyes open more, and I sit up and get out of bed. Walking around the room, I search for any more hidden treats but find nothing. That’s when it hits me that the walls are yellow. Why am I….back in my room? Breathing deeply, I wait until the air has inflated my bones a bit more before leaving to go get some more chores down. My stomach is in the middle of cannibalizing itself, but I’m sure that’ll sort out later. If not, maybe N will have something to eat. 

 

  As I start moving the trash bags, the phone rings. I ignore it. Ring, ring, ring. I ignore it. Ring, ring, ring. I love the trash bags. Knock, knock. I go to the door. 
 


  “You still alive?” a gruff voice calls out, and my blood caramelizes. “Hey, you in there?”

 

  “Yes!” The word rips out of my throat like a cat’s yowl, and I slam my wrists against the door with all the strength of a paper plate. “Yes, give us some food!” My legs start shaking, and I sit down and rub my thighs while glaring at the door. 

 

  “Yeah, yeah, you’ll get somethin’ later, kid,” the warden says. “The delivery is on the way, as always.”

 

  Purple spots dance and flicker in my vision, his very words come to literal lying life. I kick the door, and he laughs uproariously. I kick it again and again and again, but that doesn’t do anything. Is it nailed shut? Why the hell? My eyes widen, and I bite down on my lip and sniffle as the mail slot opens and something hits the ground with as much ceremony as that one time V fell into a koi pond. 

 

  It’s a box of tea. I immediately wash my hands and go to grab it, afraid it’ll be a lie, but it’s solid. It’s just chamomile tea, but it’s enough to make my hands tremble. I look back up at the door, imagining the world’s most non-descriptive man on the other side wearing an annoying smile, but all that comes out of my mouth is a soft, “Thanks.”

 

  “Eh, no issue, kiddo,” he says. “It was an extra, and I remember you being quite the little looker before. I’m better that hasn’t changed all that much.” He laughs again, this one louder. “Still as small as ever, huh? Might be nice. I’d imagine you’re pretty easy to bend over, right?”

 

  Oh. 

 

  Ew. What a creep. 

  Still, it’s more than anything we’ve gotten in the past forever…..even if it’s still one thing. 

 

  “So, maybe you’ll let me in,” the warden muses, “or is that damn brother of yours still alive? I’d imagine he’s quite a killjoy.”

 

  “Still living, and yeah, he’s a killjoy,” I say flatly, and he groans. That’s the last I hear before he walks away, and I roll my eyes. 

 

  I put the water on to boil and wait impatiently, drumming my fingers on the counter. My other hand works through my hair, and I stop my tapping to make a braid. Four strands, just like she taught me. Except……she was always better at it than me. 

 

  Stop loving focusing on a walking dead girl, you bloody idiot. She’s not gonna love you. She never will. Never again.

 

  Sighing, I cover my face with my hands and bite my lip hard enough to make it bleed. I lick the blood up and wait until the water starts to hiss. I stare at it, watch as it boils more and more. My fingers curl in the braid, and I feel a tugging sensation before there’s the sound of something breaking. Strands of hair come away, as lost and confused as snow in summer. I shake them onto the floor, and for a second, they’re black like tar. Sticky, suffocating, sickly sweet tar. 

 

  I rip more out.

 

  “G’morning,” N says, putting a hand on my shoulder. “Where’d you get that?”


  “Hmm?” I blink at him. “Oh, the warden stopped by.”

 

  “Did he bring anything el-“

 

  “Nope!” 

 

  “Dang.” N pours himself some water and steals my tea, and I bat at him and grab a bag of my own. 

 

  I wait for the tea to do its thing, and N starts idly braiding my hair. His fingers are rough and covered in small callouses, and I try to not cringe as they scrape over my neck. I wish it wasn’t him who is here right now, but I’m stuck with him forever. Aren’t I?

 

  My stomach rumbles, so I gnaw on the edge of my mug, right on Little Red’s adorable little head. N sits beside me, talking to no one and expecting no response. 

 

|•|

 

  I glare at the girl on Nate’s arm. She’s taller than me, with short silver hair and large golden eyes. Her outfit shows off too much, just a tiny white top that clings tightly to her chest and a skirt that doesn’t hide anything, and there’s a black corset wrapping around her waist. Nate’s leather jacket is covering the rest of her. Well, it’s trying to, at least. She looks down at me and grins, a soft thing that makes me grit my teeth. 

 

  “You must be Cynthia,” she says. “I’m V. It’s nice to meet you.”

 

  I pout and turn, clutching onto Tessie’s arm. My sister laughs and hugs me tight, saying, “Sorry, she’s shy. It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m Tessa.”

 

  V holds her hand out, and her loose crop-top shifts and ripple with the movements. I bury my face in Tessie’s side, and she runs her finger down my neck. The girls start talking, and overwhelmed by the unbearably suffocating atmosphere, I go back inside and sit beside J. She doesn’t even hesitate before handing me a pen to play with, then she goes back to writing some boring-ass essay.

 

  I play with her hair, batting it like it’s a kitten toy. Some of it is stuck to her shiny gold lipstick, so I unstuck it for her. She sighs and looks at me. “Cynthia, what are you doing?” she asks. “Stop that, it’s annoying.”

 

  “Nyo,” I say, grinning. J reaches over and flicks my nose. I squeal and pounce on her, and she groans but puts the computer away and pulls me onto her lap. 

 

  “You’re impossible,” she says. “How does Tessa put up with you?”

 

  “She’s not allowed to discard me,” I murmur, eyelids drooping. “She cannot discard me, and I will not discard her.”

 

  “When’s your brother leaving?” she asks, frowning. “Tessa and I need to be going soon.”


  “Where?” I chirp, eyes going wide. She pokes my nose, and I bat at her fingers. “Where-where?”


  
  “Roller skating,” she says. “Didn’t Tess tell you?”

 

  Tess? Tess?

 

  My lips curl downwards, and I roll off of J and sit at her feet. She sighs and adjusts my bow, straightening it out. I glare at the floor as it blurs, and I draw my knees to my chest, becoming a nest of pastel lace and ribbons and ruffles. I untie my bow and run it over my palm, and the chatter around me grows. It mixes with the typing and the stupid true crime show J listens to, and I sink my teeth into my tongue. There’s no blood, but I let the imaginary taste fill my mouth and cover my teeth and gums. It chokes me, dripping down my throat, and I bury my face in my hands. 
  


  “Aww, what’s wrong, Cynnie?” Tessie asks as she sits at my side. I throw myself on her, and she embraces me in a hug. “Ya lonely?” 

 

  I nod, and she clicks her tongue. 

 

  “Boss, I think we should leave sooner than later,” J says. 

 

  “Yeah, yeah, got it,” she replies. “Just….lemme do something for Cynnie, okay? Okay! C’mon, follow me!”

 

  I walk away with Tessie, and she leads me to her room and pats her computer. I sit down as she searches for something, and I raise an eyebrow when she shows me….a show? It’s a….zombie show? Tessie kisses my forehead and grins, revealing the adorable gap in her front teeth that she fought tooth and nail to keep. It matches mine. 

 

  “It’s my favorite show, and I think you’ll love it,” she says. “If you watch it, we can talk about it when I come back!” 

 

  “Okie,” I murmur, and she attacks my cheeks and face with a flurry of kisses. I begin to laugh, and she joins in before finally stopping and squeezing my hands. 

 

  “I know you’ll be lonely today, but please don’t be upset,” she says. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

 

  I nod, and when she leaves, I curl up and watch every episode. Nate and the girl leave, and Mom and Dad come back past dinner. He returns after that. She didn’t come back until past four in the morning. 


  She came back smelling like chocolate and smoke, and there were gold lipstick marks all over her neck, visible in the bright moonlight that shone from behind the thin curtains. She barely noticed me, and she crashed onto the bed in a messy heap of limbs and half-shed clothes. All she did was hook a leg over me and hold onto me as though I was her favorite plushie. 

 

|•|

 

  “H-Hi, V! You wanted to talk to me, right?”

 

  What?

 

  “Yeah, I, uh….what? H-Hey, you don’t need to cry….just….”

 

  Oh. 

 

  “It’s okay, Vio, it’s okay. I’m here for you. Hey, it’s okay. Just breathe, just breathe. You got this.”

 

  A storm is coming, huh, stupid?

 

  “Wait….what? V….you’re not serious….you’re playing me…..she said what?!”

 

  Heh. 

 

  “Listen, J’s always been….I see. Well, if you’re sure….alright. Got it. Thanks, V. I hope everything will be fine on your end.” 

 

  Click. 

 

  He sits down, pulling me onto his lap. I allow myself to be positioned as he wants, and he buries his face into my shoulder. I blink the sleep out of my eyes, yawning, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He lies down, and I groan and wiggle into a more comfortable position. His body shakes as he cries, and I snuggle to be closer to him. His hands move lower and lower, resting just above the backs of my thighs. He squeezes inward, most likely unaware of his actions, and I smile a cattish smile. 

 

|•|

 

  I struggle to contain my grin as the moron arrives, covered by the warehouse’s deep shadow. Fitting for a little whore like her, innit? Innit?! I stifle a giggle, and N nudges me in the ribs. I glance away for a second, and my blood runs hot. I face the warehouse and narrow my eyes. Nate and I had come here a few days ago to decide what game to play, and we’d found some loose boards that he was just strong enough to break. 

 

  “O-Oh, hi, N,” Uzi says, purple eyes widening. “I didn’t know……You didn’t say Cyn would be here.” 

 

  Nate shrugs. “She convinced me last second, sorry. If I had known, I woulda called your dad sooner and told him.”

 

  “It’s fine,” the idiot says, and I rock on my feet and pout. 

 

  “Hide and seek!” I shout, catching their attention. “Let’s play hide-hide and seek!” 

 

  “Sure?” the nuisance mutters, shaking her head. 

 

  “You’re it!” I slap her arm and run. 

 

  Uzi makes a flustered shriek and shouts, “Bite me!” I’m already too far away to care by that point. 

 

  Nate follows me, trying to keep his breathing quiet as we hide. Eventually, he grabs my hand and yanks me to a stop behind the warehouse shelves. I look up at him as I flop onto the ground, and he glares at me, face a shadow. 

 

  “What the heck are you doing?” he whispers. 

 

  “Teaching her a lesson,” I say with a shrug. “What else am I to do? She won’t learn otherwise.”

 

  “You sound like Mom,” he mumbles. “C’mon, Cynnie, it’s just Uzi. She doesn’t need…..all of this. Let’s just leave her.”

 

  “No!” I hiss, hopping up and stomping my foot. “You’re always taking her side! Always, always, always!” The stomps echo in the air, and I sniffle and rub my eyes. 

 

  “I’m here with you,” he says, looking away. “Just….don’t hurt her. Promise me, Cynnie. Promise me!” 

 

  “Found you!” Uzi exclaims, and I give her a dirty side-eye. “N, it’s your turn! C’mon, Cyn!” 

 

  She pulls me after her, and I refrain from wrenching and gagging at her touch. As we dash throughout the dusty old warehouse, something catches my eye. I tug on her wrist, and Uzi turns to see where I’m pointing and frowns. She’s about to say something, but I push her towards it and grin. 

 

  “It’s the perfect hiding spot,” I whisper. “He’ll never find you.” 

  “Uh, okay,” Uzi mumbles, and she climbs in.

Notes:

N and Cyn are eight and ten when they’re Nate and Cynnie, and they’re fourteen and sixteen when he and Tessa go out on their dates. Tessa and J are twenty and not out of college yet.

Also, yes, Cyn was watching ‘The Gaslight District,’ lol. I don’t know what year this is set in, so please take everything with a boulder of salt.

Chapter 3: Unearthly desires and cravings

Summary:

Cyn has an idea.

Notes:

MFW it takes this fic longer than the actual game to get to the good parts: 🫠🫠

Anyways, yep, we got to the part I wish the game would go back to, the cannibalism.

Forgot to mention, I have TCOAAL now. Y’all are screwed. :3

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

  God, she’s at it again. That goddamn cultist hussy is playing that horrid music in her pathetic attempt to do something. Well, maybe I can see if anything will take the bait. 

 

  I open my eyes and spring out of bed, ignoring the pain it brings as I dash to the balcony. As much as I’d rather jump off than listen to this for another picosecond, I doubt N will be that understanding. Pity for him, I suppose. Regardless, I shake the handle rapidly before trotting into our shared room and swiping the key from his dresser. He’ll freak when he finds it missing, but what the hell? He shouldn’t keep it where I can grab it. If he really, really didn’t want me to have it, he should have put it in our parents’ room. I haven’t set foot in there in months. 

 

  I unlock the door and step outside, inhaling the rather bland fresh air, and I cross the board and look into the window. Doll has her palms raised up, but her back is to me. Her hood falls off, and her hair ripples around her legs and moves along with her cloak. Her pretty voice is barely audible beneath the music, but she speaks out of tune, which makes it easier to hear. The candle flames flicker with the melody, and she twirls around slowly. We lock eyes, and I wave enthusiastically at her. 

 

  She flips me off and mouths something, and I stick my tongue out and put a hand on my hip. She silently chuckles and salutes me, then she comes over and unlocks the door. 

 

  “Cyn?”

 

  Crap. 

 

  I turn to see N poking his head out from our door, and my face falls. Without a second glance at Doll, I head back to him, nightgown ribbon trailing between my legs. The already-torn and stained hem gets dirtier as I drag myself across the board again, and the bow jiggles with every breath. N moves slowly, as if drained, and he promptly lies on the cape yet once we get inside. I join him, and he holds my hand and squeezes as the music gets louder. 

 

  “So, you and V,” I start, but he sighs and groans. 

 

  “Done for.” He sounds sad, and it takes everything in me to not roll my eyes. 

 

  “Why?” I ask, keeping my tone light. 

 

  “I think you already know,” he mumbles, and I yelp when his nails dig into my flesh. “Why didn’t you stop? Do you know what she told me, Cynthia? She said that you-“

 

  Despite my crashing energy, I manage to straddle N and grin down at him. He makes a face but doesn’t hesitate to grab my hips, keeping me close, and whatever tirade he was about to go on dies alongside his will to fight back and get mad. My dress puddles around his torso, so I lift it up until I can adjust myself. He looks away, or at least, he pretends to do that. I catch his eyes zooming back for a split second, making me snicker. 

 

  “What did she say?” I ask, raising an eyebrow. 

 

  “N-Nothing,” N says, and his cheeks flush. “Nothing important. Not anymore.”

 

  “That’s what I thought,” I say, laughing. “She was never that important, was she?” 

 

  “Cynnie…..” N mutters, glaring at me. I cover his face, feeling his fluffy silver bangs beneath my fingers. “You know I hate when you say stuff like that.”

 

  “It’s true!” I chirp smugly, rubbing a finger along the bridge of his nose. “Boring, boring, she was a boring cow!”

 

  “Cynthia!” N snaps, shoving me off. 

 

  I cry out as I tumble to the ground, hitting my head against the couch. I look up at him, tearing well up, and he shakes his head and goes to the master bedroom. The door slams behind him, the sound ringing out and echoing off the walls, and my lips begin to tremble. Burying my face in my knees, I pretend to cry loudly, the sound as noticeable as a pleading kitten’s. He doesn’t come back out, so I climb to my feet and shrug before rummaging through the kitchen for the tea. 

 

  I put the water on and leave the room, and that’s when the music gets even louder. Closing my eyes, I stick my lower lip out and twirl a hand through the air to try and down the sound out. She needs to stop, or else I’ll break into her apartment and eat all her snacks. It doesn’t stop, though. I grab a mug and sit on the couch, humming and bopping my head to the loud-as-hell rhythmic growls and whistles coming from next door. The floor begins to shake, and I tap my foot to the melody. 

 

  The kettle whistles a few minutes later, but it’s interrupted by a scream that’s immediately cut off. I glance at the wall, raising an eyebrow, and I hop off the couch and go back to the balcony door. N comes running out, and he frantically unlocks the door. It’s nearly taken off the hinges as he pushes it open, and I follow along like a bored puppy. He scrambles across the board and presses his face up against the door before gasping loudly. I join him, poking my head up between his arms so I can see. 

 

  Oh. 

 

  That’s not good. 

 

  There’s something small and dark at Doll’s ankles, and she seems to be saying something. The floating thing looks like it’s made of mist or fog, pitch black, with three sanguine eyes attached to nothing yet seeing it all. Doll drops to her knees and clasps her hands to her chest, crimson eyes gleaming and wet. The red lights in her apartment cast her and the being in a soft glow, making her look demonic and beautiful. 


  
  “Should we….” N’s voice is quiet, and I shrug. “Wait, Cynnie, look.”

 

  Oh, shit. 

 

  My eyes go wide as the foggy thing grows bigger, and the candles Doll uses to adorn her pentagram begin to get bright. Her mouth opens in a scream, but it is ripped out of her before she can even make the sound. Her eyes bulge out of her skull, and her hands fly up to her throat as something pale escapes. She claws at it, drawing blood, then she goes limp. 

 

  Shit!

 

  N and I make eye contact as the thing leaves as abruptly as it appeared, and I slump to the ground. N starts to shake, breathing hard, eyes so wide they could be used as a helicopter’s landing pad. He covers his mouth, coughing and gagging, and I swat his legs before shaking my head and crawling back. Grabbing the ashtray, I go up to the door and smash the window in. N makes a strangled sound while I unlock the door and let myself in, singing a song beneath my breath. 

 

  Doll’s body lays contorted on the ground, one leg bent under her back while the other is turned out. One hand clasps her throat, and the other is limp and facing palm-up. Her face is a portrait of pain and agony, and I stroll past her to peek around her place. The apartment has the same layout as ours, but some of the appliances are different enough. N is still having a panic attack outside, but that’s boring and annoying. 

 

  I open the bathroom door and gag at the smell, so I close it and trot over to her bedroom. Rummaging through her dresser, I grab some cute clothes and push her weird sex toys deeper into the drawer. Some of them look like mythical creature dicks, and they’re nicely colored. That doesn’t really matter, though. I’d rather take her dresses and skirts. Ooh, she has some erotic horror novels! Don’t mind if I do. 

 

  When I go back to the living room, N is kneeling at her side and closing her eyes. I roll mine and wander into the kitchen, eying a cleaver. I go through her fridge and freezer, but all I find is some scraps of stored food. Not enough to eat. 

 

  “C-Cyn?” N asks, voice shaking like a leaf. “S-Stop looking at her stuff.”

 

  Groaning, I return to his side and poke at her tan and athletic-looking corpse.

 

That’s a lot of meat, if I’m being honest. 

 

  “W-What the hell, Cynthia?!”

 

  Crap. 

 

  I look at N, who seems like he’s seen a ghost. His face is pale and covered in sweat, and I bite my lip and grin, shrugging. I palm her breast and squeeze, feeling how the flesh ripples beneath my touch, how it rises up and down. It’s just big enough that my palm doesn’t cover a lot. 
 


  “Humans taste like pork, right? Oink, oink! Oink, oink!” I can’t contain my giggles at his disgust. “C’mon, it can’t be bad.”

 

  “Y-You don’t even like pork,” he sputters. “Besides, that’s desecration of a corpse! You’d go to jail!” 


  I hum and cock my head, reaching out to grab and lift his chin until he’s meeting my gaze. N is reduced to a nervous wreck, and it’s rather darling. Smirking, I lean into him and whisper, “I’m starving, Nate. She’s the only thing around….unless you wanna volunteer.”

 

  “I-I…..” He swallows hard and looks down, and I grab the cleaver and kneel at Doll’s side. While I’m sure I could get plenty of meat from her torso, I think there would be too much fat in her breasts to be tasty.

 

  “Leg? Arm? Left? Right?” I ask, lifting each limb and letting it flop in the air. The sight makes me giggle, and N turns whiter than a corpse. He stutters out an L, so I place the cleaver down at her left thigh and grin like a murderous fairy-like soldier. 

  N skitters away to go loudly throw up as I saw the blade back and forth, humming without a care in the world. The rich, coppery scent of blood blooms in the air, and I open my mouth and inhale, trying to catch it all on my tongue. My eyelashes lower, and my stomach begins to rumble louder and louder. I raise the blade up and bring it down, shuddering as the bone cracks. I keep on cutting through all the muscles and sinews, breaking the bone if needed. It’s harder than I expected, and sweat coats my forehead and neck. 

 

  I shiver, and a dull fire pulses in between my legs. Moving over, I sit on Doll’s torso to make cutting easier, and I gasp with delight when her leg finally comes off. Blood stains the floor, washing the pentagram away. It laps at the rose candles, whose scent has faded long ago by now. The mixture of rose and blood is strong, heady, and my movements slow down when I start on her other leg. I cut gently, then speed up, conducting a beautifully monstrous symphony of gore and spectacle. 

 

  This time, when I’m close, I grab her thigh and twist. The sinews give way, and her leg comes off in my hand. My mouth falls open, and a shudder rips throughout my body. I moan quietly, and footsteps ring out through the cool evening air. I meet N’s terrified gaze, and I smile sweetly and tilt my head like I’m a doll caught moving on her own. 

 

  “Jesus Christ, Cynthia,” he murmurs. “What have you done?”

 

  “She was dead,” I say with a shrug. “C’mon, we can eat now. Well, after I’m done with her arms, I mean.”

 

  “God,” he exhales. “I-I knew y-we shouldn’t have eaten that soup last week. God, help me. This is….this is….”

 

  “Not a crime,” I say calmly. “We were being starved after all. This is just what we needed. Surely, we can’t be guilty. Besides, we didn’t kill her, so that’s one less charge.”


  N slumps to the ground, eyes wide and sightless. He groans, and I reach over and smack him with a bloody hand. He winces and meets my eyes, and I nuzzle up to him and nibble his neck. He pushes me away, so I throw the cleaver past him and pout. With a heavy sigh, he takes the blade up and uncurls Doll’s arm. I can’t contain my bubbling laughter as he starts to cut it off. 

Notes:

Cyn, please stop desecrating corpses! I can’t defend you here!

Anyways, the soup bit references a part that never got written. In the game, A&A find canned tomatoes; here, N&C would have found a can of soup and eaten it on Tessa’s birthday. I forgot about it, so yeah. Sorry, lol.

Chapter 4: Sweet, coppery flesh tastes ideal

Summary:

Cyn cooks N a nice meal.

Notes:

CW: a lotta gore, possible victim-blaming. I’m so sorry to everyone who doesn’t like gore, I hate it, too.

That being said, I spent probably too much time staring R/Guro subreddit to get Cyn’s narration right. I also don’t know what exactly people taste like, other than similar to pork, so I just bit into my arm to see. The things I do for my fics…..

Hope you enjoy this messed up chapter.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

  N’s movements are very slow, robotic and janky, as he cuts the arm off close to the shoulder. I get on my hands and knees like a cat loaf and watch, keeping my eyes wide. The blood washes over the floor, mixing with the drying blood that forms the pentagram. I swipe my fingers through it and lick it off, gagging as the sharp, coppery taste sticks to the back of my throat. I open my mouth, and bloody saliva drips down onto my dress. 

 

  “This is…..this is disgusting, Cyn,” he murmurs, but I can hear his stomach growling. “God, why am I doing this?”

 

  “I dunno, but you’re doing a good job, buddy,” I say, reaching up to pat his head. He stares at me, breathing hard, and my eyes narrow. “C’mon, Nate, you got this! You can do it!” 


  He looks back at the body and covers his mouth, then pulls away and coughs loudly. He coughs like he’s about to vomit again, like he’s about to choke and die on blood. I take the knife and finish the job, separating the arm with ease. I lift it up and run my finger along the twitching muscles and bone and everything else than makes it function. Interesting, very interesting. I stare at it for a long time, committing every pretty detail to memory. This will help when I draw Doll, or well, whenever I draw someone like this. 

 

  “C-Cyn, stop,” N whispers, face pale. “That’s so gross.” 

 

  “It’s just an arm,” I say. “You have ‘em, I have ‘em, that’s not weird. Why do you think it’s weird?”

 

  My idiot big brother runs into the kitchen to go splash water on his face, and I roll my eyes and get back to work. I can’t make the second cut even, so the remnants of her arms are uneven. That sucks, I’m kind of a dumbass for being unable to do something as simple and that, I guess. I sigh and keep working, then gather her limbs up in a plastic bag and look down at her corpse. 

 

  She’s smaller than me now, just a torso and a head. Her robes cover her missing limbs, and her hair is solely red now. She looks strange and sorta pretty, like something for a collector of odd vintage dolls. She looks broken. I tilt my head and smile sweetly, like N just promised to stay with me forever again. I bend down and kiss her forehead, then close her eyes. 

 

  “N, I’m taking these back to the apartment,” I say, and he lets out a series of sounds that could really be anything. “I’ll get to cooking the hussy, okie?”

 

  He doesn’t reply, which makes me pout and shuffle back across the board. I put an arm on the counter and the rest in the freezer after I wrap the bleeding ends first, then I remove my bloody dress and dump it in the laundry and return to the kitchen. I drain the arm into the sink before grabbing a big knife and slicing the flesh off. I hum as I work, and I think it’s a tune from that bizarre-as-hell musical V dragged me and N to. Heathers, was it? I don’t remember, it was dumb. I only liked that once scene at the end, when JD falls onto the ground. That was funny. 

 

  “What should I do with you?” I ask the arm as I tie the white apron around my waist. “I don’t have any breadcrumbs, so I can’t make any strips with you. That sucks, doesn’t it? Well, maybe I can still fry you in some oil. The only foods we really had left is crap we can’t eat, like spices and oil. 

 

  “What should I use on you, Dolly? We have some paprika and pepper. Does that sound good? I hope so, it’s all we kinda have now. Not even salt, we used that to spike our water. Did you ever do that, or did you get fed like a favorite pet? I doubt it, you were annoying. Well, you’re less annoying now ‘cause you’re dead. You’re dead, and I don’t ever have to hear your annoying music ever again!"

 

  My cute laugh rings out through the apartment, and I keep on talking as I season the meat and pour some oil into the pan. I cut the hand off and play with the fingers as I wait for the meat to start frying. Doll had pretty red and pink nails, and the pink stands out to me. She didn’t have any pink in her drawers, so maybe someone picked the color for her? That’s kinda cute, I wonder if N would ever pick my nail polish colors one day. He’d probably also pick pink, maybe yellow if he wanted to make me happy. I’d be happy with whatever color he chose. 

 

The balcony door opens, and I turn and wave at N, cheerfully saying, “Hey, Nate sweetie, I’m making dinner!”

 

  “I tore her head off,” he replies shakily, sounding more traumatized than I expected. He comes to me and hops up onto the counter, staring at his legs as if questioning his entire existence and life choices up until now. Pathetic. “I….I was trying to cut her head off so I could store her, and she….the spine got stuck. I co-couldn’t….I tore the head off…..She’s in the freezer and fridge now….God, Cynnie, what have we done?”

 

  Floozy in the fridge, I see. Nice one, N. Real proud of ya.

 

  He shudders and hugs himself, and I lean over and kiss his cheek. His head whips up to meet my gaze, eyes burning bright with energy and anger. 

 

  “Why did we do this?” he asks. “Cynthia, why did we….why did you do this?”

 

  “What did you want us to do? She was dead,” I say, flipping the cut of meat with a fork. It’s cooking evenly, and saliva builds in my mouth the longer I watch it. “We could starve to death, but that’s no fun. C’mon, Nate, it’s just food. Just pretend it’s pork.”

 

  “She….she’s a human! We can’t eat her! What if we get a disease from her?” N chews on his lip, and I roll my eyes and focus on the food. 

  When it’s done, I plate the meal and seat at the table. N follows like a beaten dog, and he sits down without a fuss. I begin to eat, making a face at the taste. Pork never tasted that good, but as I eat more….it’s actually pretty good. A little sweet, mostly savory, kinda spicy from the seasonings, and it’s not quite like anything Mother would force me to eat. I continue on, watching as N goes pale. My eyes narrow, and I reach out to close his mouth right before he can spit my hard work into a napkin. 

 

  “No, no, Nate, no spitting it out,” I say, giggling under my breath. 

 

  “Cynnie,” he begs, voice muffled. “I can’t-“

 

  “Swallow.” My nails dig into his chin. “All of it.”

 

  I watch as his throat moves, and he downs his glass of water like it owes him money. He hangs his head and groans, and I keep eating. He looks so pitiful and melancholic, and it’s actually kinda cute. I push his bangs out of his eyes and spear some meat onto my fork, lifting it to his mouth. 

 

  “Open up, Nate,” I say, sing-song, and he begrudgingly does as ordered. I smile when he begins to chew. “Good boy. Good boy!”

 

  He swallows again and stands up, still pale and shaky. “I’m going to shower. Could you…just sleep in Tessa’s room tonight?” 

 

  “What, why?” I ask, blinking in confusion. 

 

  “This was too much. I can’t…I need to be away from you,” N says, keeping his gaze away from me. 

 

  I pout and go up to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and keeping him close. He makes a small gagging sound as my bloody apron touches him, and I press my face to his back. He tries to shake me off, but I stay on like a l’il bug. 

 

  “Cynthia, please,” he begs, and I frown at his choice of name. “You….I….please.”

 

  “You don’t want me around?” I ask, voice trembling. 

 

  “N-No! I-I just need to repress this. Away from you.” 

 

  He breaks free and disappears into the bathroom, leaving me to clean up. I listen as the door slams and sigh heavily, and once everything is stored and put away, I slip on a jacket and cross over into Doll’s apartment again. I head towards the freezer and open it, frowning again when I find her torso and head. She’s clad in a deep red bra and purple underwear, and both have little bows on them. Both are covered in blood. The crimson liquid is sticky and smeared over most of her skin, and I cover my mouth. My stomach turns and curls at the sight, and for a brief moment, I consider throwing up. There’s something so…..sad about the state of her. 

 

  She looks….

 

  She looks like she’s been forgotten about. All alone, with no one to turn to. Maybe that was her situation, how she ended up here. No one comes to this apartment because they want to. It’s always a disaster that brings them here. A tragedy. 

 

  How old was she? Twenty? Twenty-one, two, three? She’s college-age, I think. She still looks a bit young, and I wonder if she had any friends or a partner. 

 

  Closing the freezer, I head to her room and look around. There aren’t any scrapbooks, but she’s gotta have a phone somewhere. I go through her drawers, closet, nightstand, everywhere I can think it might be. Nothing, absolutely nothing. 

 

  “Stupid girl,” I mumble, pouting. I flop onto her her and sigh, leaning against her pillows. “Got nothing, so I guess she didn’t have a life. That’s fine. That’s better, actually…..”

 

  Ding!

 

  My blood drains from my face, and with a shaking hand, I reach beneath the pillows and pull out a phone. The case is deep purple with red flowers and a wolf lurking in a foggy forest, golden eyes glowing and glaring accusingly at me. The screen lights up again with a message from a “My Lizzy.” It takes every ounce of strength I have to open the phone and read the message. 

 

My Lizzy: Dolly~~
My Lizzy: I have some photos for you!!
My Lizzy: 💖🌸🌸💖

 

  I watch as four photos come through a few seconds later, all of a blonde young woman with tan skin dressed in a skimpy cheerleader uniform. She’s blowing a kiss to the camera and flipping her maroon skirt up to reveal lacy, pastel pink underwear in one of them, and my stomach turns again. I cover my mouth as bitter vomit rises up my throat. 

 

  In another photo, the girl is wearing only an apron and holding up two strawberry cupcakes. One has pink frosting while the other has purple icing and some red sprinklings. In the third, she’s in a cute pink bra and covering her lower body with a bouquet of flowers. As for the last, she’s on a bed that’s covered in rose petals. She’s completely naked, but it’s her expression that gets me. She looks wholly, completely, madly in love. 

 

  I murdered her girlfriend. 

 

  I murdered and ate her girlfriend. 

 

  I throw the phone across the room and gag, and my vision burns black. My chest and stomach heave, and my hands fumble to unzip my jacket. The second the cool air hits my skin, I exhale and hang my head off the bed. My mouth opens, and I gag and gag and gag. Nothing. Only saliva drips onto the floor. 

 

  Groaning, I roll onto my stomach and bury my face in the pillows, mind racing. It’s not my fault. She tasted good. It’s not my fault, it’s not my fault. N helped. He helped cut her arm off. He helped. He helped. 

 

  Another wave of vomit rises, and I rush to her bathroom and kneel over the toilet. My coughs echo around the small room, but still, nothing comes out. That’s good, at least. She shouldn’t go to waste just because she happened to date someone. I shouldn’t vomit her up just because she was social and made friends. She had a life, but she wasted it trying to summon a demon. She wasted her life. I didn’t do anything wrong. 


  I slump down against the tub, placing a hand in my belly to keep the food down. I inhale deeply and groan under my breath, closing my eyes. I shouldn’t come back here. Let her rot. I don’t need to feel this way again. Let her rot. Let the rats find her, let the rats get traumatized. 

  Stumbling, I make my way back to my apartment and into the bathroom. N is brushing his teeth, and I try to ignore the bloody toothpaste he spits out. His eyes are glazed over and dead-looking, cheeks bloodless and covered in tears, and I take the jacket off and get into the shower, drawing the curtain close. I strip my bra and underwear off, stuff them into the corner, and turn the water on, letting it drown out his barely-audible sobs. 
  

  I scrub my skin until it’s bright red, but I can’t unsee the remnants of her body. I know I made the right choice, we had to eat, we had to eat her, but………goddamn it. I kinda hate myself.

Notes:

Cyn….needs help. These two need the demon therapy so badly, it’s insane.

Episode One should be done way before C10, so that’s nice. I’m also going to the canon “Decay” ending because I’d rather avoid the rather hard-to-read non-canon endings.

Fun fact: this chapter was supposed to be weirder. Cyn was supposed to sit on N’s lap after dinner while he tried to destress by playing with her bra strap.

Chapter 5: Dreaming of times long since repressed

Summary:

Cyn recollects some more.

Notes:

Two chapters in one hour, I’m on a roll. That roll is simply called “Go the F to sleep before you die, Kes,” but that’s just fine.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

  “Mother?” I ask, watching as she heads towards the door. “They….they said we should sta-“

 

  “I didn’t drink anything,” she says harshly, looking back at me with narrowed eyes. “Not water, not tea, not even any liquor. I’m fine. James and I will be at a hotel in the meantime. You two can join us later.”

 

  I stand up, legs wobbling, and she turns away and opens the door. Stepping forward, I’m too slow to even enter the kitchen by the time she’s gone. I stare at the white door, blood boiling in my veins, and I grit my teeth. 

 

  Good riddance. 

 

  Exhaling slowly, I grab my crutches and make my way into Tessie’s long-since-abandoned room. I sit on my floozy of a sister’s bed and stare at the ceiling, my nails scratching at my thigh. I snag a piece of loose skin and tear, sighing as blood wells up. 

 

  “Tessa had a little sister, little sister, little sister, yet that bitch skipped town,” I sing under my breath. “Tessa had a little sister, little sister, little sister, yet that bitch skipped town!”

 

  Rolling onto my side, I blow my bangs out of my eyes and sigh heavily. I wrap myself up in her blanket and bring my knees to my chest, feeling small and breakable. Wherever she is, I wonder if she’s fucking her little whore on a bed right now. I study my nails, then bite down on one. The keratin chips and breaks, breaks all the way down past the skin. I pull the shard hard, pressing the little wound closed to stop the blood from spreading. 

 

  “Cynthia Elliot took an axe and gave her father forty whacks,” I sing slowly. “When she saw what she had done, she gave her mother forty-one!”

 

  “I’m going out!” N calls to nobody, and I bolt upright as a smirk spreads across my face. I go to the living room and grab his sleeve, and he looks down with a friendly smile. “Hi, Cyn. I’m gonna go see V!”

 

  “You didn’t hear?” I ask, tilting my head and speaking more robotically than normal. “We are in quarantine.”

 

  “What? No, I promised her,” he says. “We’re gonna go see Anastasia at her house.”

 

  I nearly laugh at that, knowing damn well he doesn’t care about that movie. He must really think I’m an idiot, especially with that condom package tucked haphazardly into his pocket. He’s just gonna go fuck her into tomorrow because….because….well, probably because he doesn’t want her to cut her arms open for the hundredth time. At least I can keep an eye on him now, the little troublemaker. Leaning over, I bite down on his wrist, teeth sinking into his flesh. 


  “Cyn!” he yelps, pulling away and shaking me off. 

 

  I let go and wipe my mouth clean of saliva. “Stay with me. I’m lonely. Tessie hasn’t responded to my calls,” I say, pouting. “Besides, you can’t leave anyways.”

 

  N frowns, but I drag him to the couch and lay my head on his lap while he puts something on. Saturday the 14th, a classic. I close my eyes, ignoring how his finger drifts under the collar of my dress and brushes against my skin, and I bite my lip when his nails run over my yellow bra strap. The movie plays on, and I yawn, relaxed by the ever so familiar sounds of the typical 80s’ theatrics. 

 

|•|

 

  The lid of the dusty box slams shut loud and clear, earning a gasp of surprise from Uzi. She’s all curled up in there, nice and snug, so I sit down and kick my legs a bit. Thud, thud, thud. I giggle as Nate approaches me, bit of wooden debris in hand. He’s shaking a bit, and the box rattles around beneath me. 

 

  “Cynnie, this is…too far,” he murmurs, yellow eyes downcast. “C’mon, let her out.”

 

  “N!” she shouts. “Lemme out! N!”

 

  “You’re taking her side?” I ask, voice soft and cold. “Really, Nate?”

 

  “I-I’m not taking a side,” he says, surprised. “I’m just….this is a lot, you know? Look, let’s just….”

 

  Hot tears burn my eyes, and I clutch my bangs and sniffle. Why? Why why why? It’s always her! Always her and never never never me! WHY WHY WHY? WHAT’S SO SPECIAL ABOUT A BITCH IN A BOX ANYWAYS?! 

 

  “N, please, let me out!”

 

  SHE’S USELESS AND EVERYONE HATES HER, THEY HATE HER, HATE HER, HATE HER! SHE’S IRRITATING AND SMALL AND ANNOYING AND A LITTLE HUSSY WHO NEEDS TO DIE! 
 


  “I-I won’t t-tell anyone! I promise!”

 

  THAT’S WHY SHE’LL DIE RIGHT NOW IN A COFFIN SHE MADE! SHE’LL DIE AND STAY DEAD FORVER AND EVER AND EVER!

 

  “Cynnie? Are you…okay?”


  “No one picks me,” I whisper, beginning to tremble and cry. “I-I know I’m annoying, b-but everyone likes h-her best. Why am I….why does no one l-like me? I’m weird, that’s it, right?! I’m weird? RIGHT?! That’s why no one will play with me? N? Nate? Why don’t they pick me? They all hate me, don’t they? I’m the worst! The worst, the worst, the worst!”

 

  It’s always her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and her and him and never her and him and me. 

 

  “N? P-P-Please? Cyn? Hello?”

 

  THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! 

 

  She’s the rebellious child. He’s the good child. I’m…………………what even am I anymore? 

 

  “Oh, God…..it’s dusty……”

 

  Warm arms wrap around me, and I press against him. Nate smoothes my hair back, and I sniffle. He murmurs things into my ear, sweet, hopeful, painfully childish things, and I sigh into his hoodie. 

 

  “I love you,” he murmurs. “You’re not the worst.”

 

  “Then do it,” I say, leaning back a bit. He goes still from the shock and stares at me. “Put it in.”

 

  “C-Cynnie?” he asks through bloodless lips. 

 

  “Do it.”

 

  With trembling hands, he sticks the wooden piece into the lock of the box. Her thuds and thumps intensify before stopping, though her sobs remain, and I laugh and hop off and hug Nate. He looks at me, a shadow over his face. 

 

  “Yay, we did it!” I cheer. “Nate and Cynnie and the bitch they put in the box!” 

 

  “Cynnie,” he says, gripping my hands tightly. I stop and feel my body freeze as he glares right into my eyes. “You are a miserable, selfish creature who has no desire to leave my life, and I-I……”

 

  His grip tightens. I swallow hard. 

 

  “Y-You’re hurting me,” I whimper, voice as soft as a dead leaf. 

 

  Nate lets go and runs a small hand through his fluffy hair, sighing. “I’ll always be here with you,” he whispers, and it sounds…..

 

|•|

 

  Pain. 

 

  That’s the first thing I notice as I become conscious. A weight pressing down on me. Maybe it’s the consequences of my actions, or maybe it’s Maybelline. I don’t actually know which is worse. Regardless, there is, in fact, a hundred pound weight pressing down on my body, heavy limbs keeping me trapped on the bed. My vision runs black, and I can hear my panicked breathing. It really does look like consequences caught up, and now, I’m about to suffer……

 

  ….Is what I would think if the weight belonged to anyone else in this God-forsaken world. 

 

  I wriggle out from a sleeping N and stare at him, expression staying blank. His face is contorted with agony, and his breathing is labored and shallow. He’s cold and clammy, and I wrap the blanket around him. The change is instantaneous. He looks like he can sleep again, sleep like a little baby. Rolling my eyes, I lie back down and hook a leg over him, burying my head into his chest. He doesn’t move, so I pull the blanket up and close my eyes. 

 

  Sleep doesn’t come, forcing me to stay with the memories of my dreams. Whatever, so lame. 

 

  I pet his cheek and nuzzle even more into him. My words come out soft and quiet when I say, “What am I going to do with all these hussies around you?” I’m not sure where those words came from. Maybe I’ve said them before, maybe a show. Who cares?

 

  He snorts in his dream, and I roll away and gaze at the wall in complete and utter boredom. My bangs fall into my eyes, so I start to play with them and contemplate the color. White. It’s supposed to be an innocent and virginal color, I guess, but that’s lame. I wonder why it got that reputation when it’s just the absence of color. It’s boring, but I guess I once liked it. 

 

  Tessa has black hair. Black like what I’m guessing my heart must look like by now. Black like all her favorite dresses and bows. Black like the car J would pull up in, a car I know she viewed as an escape. Though, what was she escaping? Me? N? Our parents? What?



  I remember how her eyes would light up when the door was knocked on, how she’d squeal and drop everything to go run and greet her girlfriend. I remember how confused I was when she’d be sad over a fight. “It’s stupid,” I’d say, “it’s not the end of the world.” She just patted my knee and said I’d understand it one day. Maybe I don’t want to understand. Why would I date when I could spend time with her and N?

 

  Red-stained purple hair, shocked eyes, bloody limbs, bloodless lips. 
  

  I roll back into N and stifle a laugh sob. How ridiculous of me. Getting emotional over a girl I barely talked to, that’s so lame. I’m not Tessa. I’m not N. I shouldn’t even be thinking about her. She’s dead and gone now, what does it matter to me? 

Notes:

Next chapter: The rest of EP1, I guess. Honestly, I’m kinda excited for N and Cyn to meet Thad and Lizzy because you know Cyn’s gonna have to fight against saying, “I killed and ate your GF, lol.”

Chapter 6: Dancing with ballon devils in a rainy town

Summary:

Cyn gets a key to the eye.

Notes:

Escape arc: commence.

Look at that, we’re almost done with the first episode!!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

  “Cyn. Hey, Cyn, wake up. Come on, wake up.”

 

  Shake, shake, shake. 

 

  Groaning, I roll onto my back and open my eyes to stare up at the nervous Nate. His face is flushed red, and his hands are shaking quite badly. I reach up to smooth his tangled hair, and he bats my arm away and grips my shoulders enough to make me squeal in pain and recoil, hissing at him. His eyes are wide, wider than they ought to be, and all I can see is his terror. 

 

  “Warden!” he hisses. “We have to clean up! Now!”

 

  Grumbling, I slide out of bed and head to the bathroom, grabbing a mop from where it rests against the linen cabinet. N heads to the front door while I go to the room next door, and as I enter it, I can hear the warden calling out as he knocks on it. 

 

  “‘Ey, Markova? You still alive?” 

 

  I stay quiet, covering my mouth to stop my breathing. 

 

  “Goddamn it. Hey, Billy? Yeah, the weird, Satan-obsessed chick in room four-oh-five? Uh-huh, yeah, she croaked. I’m gonna get her in a second.  Yes, she was hot, and no, you can’t see her. Besides, she was crazy as fuck.”

 

  Wait, wait, wait, all we…..all we had to do……WAS SHUT UP FOR A DAY OR TWO? IT WAS THAT EASY?!

 

  I exhale, feeling my blood boiling beneath my rotting skin, and I stare at the bloodstains N was so generous to leave behind. My teeth grit together, and my mind swirls with every annoyance that’s ever hit me. The bloodstains glower back at me, and my grip on the mop loosens. What am I supposed to do with these, lick them up? No, that’s what the mop if for, you dumb bitch. Shaking my head, I go to wet the ends and start cleaning the blood. It’s dried already, so it’s harder to wash away than it has any right to be. Adding some liquid soap to the dirty floor tiles, I do my best to remove all traces of N’s crimes and poor butchery job. 

 

  I can’t believe he even decided butcher this poor little cultist for no reason other than gluttony. Ah, isn’t life so funny? One minute, he’s starving and maybe about himself like some sort of twisted duke. The next, he’s devouring a cultist with some of my help. Oh, N. N, N, N, N. I love you, I love you, I love you. Love me back, please? You’re a dumbass, but you’re my big brother. No matter how often you can’t sleep, how often your mind torments you about what you’ve done for me, how often you regret your decisions and choices, I will be there. 

 

  I focus on cleaning the last of the stains up and rinsing the mop out, then I quickly stuff it into her bathroom. Going back, I pick all the candles up and put them back in the little cardboard box, humming as I do. I’ve always hated cleaning the apartment, but this? This isn’t so bad. I wonder what the difference is. It probably has something to do with everything else, doesn’t it?

 

  Just as I’m about to head towards the balcony door, the doorknob turns. My heart rate spikes, spikes, then stops as the door gets stuck. I glance around the room, muscles freezing in place, throat drier than a desert in a decade-long drought. All I can hear is my breathing, and all I can see is the darkness crowding in on my vision, as dark as a murder of crows closing in on a carcass. My gaze darts from surface to surface, heart beating in time to the sound of wood being pried from the doorframe. Bile rises up my throat, and I rush towards a closet. 

 

  The door slams shut, making me wince, and that’s when the front door opens. I clap a hand over my mouth, biting down on a finger as to stifle any and all sounds I make. A whimper escapes me, and footsteps grow louder and louder. I whine and press myself up against the back of the closet, trying to let the coats and robes swallow me up, and I close my eyes, praying that no one will find me. God, oh, God. No, no. 

 

  “Is anyone here?”

 

  No, no, no, no. I’m not here, not here. Go away, leave me be. I didn’t do much wrong, not this time. 

 

  “Hello?” 

 

  The door begins to open. No, no, no. The warden, eyes full of confusion and bewilderment, stares at me. He reaches his hand out, a sick sort of smile crossing his face, and I whimper and pull away even more. He frowns, gaze softening, then going hard. 

 

  “Cyn…..Cynthia? What are you-“

 

  The shadow takes me by surprise, too. It’s just a blur of movement, followed by a cut-off cry of pain. The warden hits the ground, landing on his stomach, and the shadow doesn’t stop. Bam, bam, bam goes the cleaver. The warden doesn’t stop screaming, not for a few seconds. Blood flows, reaching and winding, corrupted and horrid, a perpetually devouring river of crimson sins and sorrows, a river that hungers for more and more. My breath catches in my throat, and I can’t move, can’t think, can’t even see. My eyes are wide, muscles petrified, fearing swirling through every ounce of my body as I watch N do the one thing I never ever thought he’d do. 

 

  The warden is comprised of fleshy ribbons now. Just a pile of mangled flesh and blood, burst flowers and vines made of nothing but grotesque ugliness and rose water. His back doesn’t even resemble anything natural, and his head…..is this what it’s like to be disgusted? Ugh, I want to go and throw up. This feels….well, it doesn’t exactly feel all that wrong, and that’s what I find most horrifying. 

 

  N stops and turns, eyes as dark and haunted as a ghost-ridden manor condemned to hell. His hands are trembling, and tears well up as he looks at me. He staggers towards the closet, bracing himself on it and breathing hard. He clears his throat before speaking, voice low and shaking. 

 

  “What were you thinking?” he asks. “You almost….oh, Lord. What have I done?”

 

  I slip out of the closet and pad over to the warden, poking his cheek. Nothing. He’s dead. Very, very dead. My stomach twists, and I exhale and close my eyes, sinking to my knees and covering my face. My skirt petals out around my legs, and I can’t help but feel like a flower maiden about to die and burn to ash, able to drift away on the wind. Far, far away from this coffin of an apartment. Far, far away from all this death and despair. Though, the scent of blood is making me hungry again. My stomach rumbles, and I lick my lips and lower my face to the warden’s neck. I draw my tongue across one of his injuries, letting the taste fill my mouth, becoming a maggot feasting on wounds. Sweet, warm, coppery, delicious, wet, bright red blood. 

 

  “C-Cynnie?” 

 

  “It’s good,” I murmur. “Try some.”

 

  “Later,” N says. “We’ve got a chance to leave. Come on.” 

 

  I blink up at him and wipe my mouth, slipping the warden’s walkie-talkie into my pocket. He sighs and looks away, disgusted by me. I hug him, but he pushes me away and walks over to where Doll’s purse hangs. Rifling through it, I pull out six hundred and sixty-six bucks and sixty-six cents, then peer over at N. He meets my gaze, and I shrug and hand him half. His eyebrows raise, and I grin at him.

 

  “Let’s go hunting,” I say, heading towards the door. “C’mon!”

 

  N follows me as I leave the room and step lightly on the pentagram welcome mat. I waltz through the hallway, humming as I look around. There’s a door open, and I bounce over to it while ignoring every scream my bones make. I can hear N walking to the other doors and saying something under his breath, but I don’t really care about it one bit. It’s all a bunch of nonsense to me, and not even the fun kind of nonsense. It’s all just weird and stupid, I’d rather dance in a rainy town with balloon devils than be stuck in this god-forsaken apartment any longer. 

 

  Entering the room, I pause and glance at everything inside. It’s only a couch, TV, a desk with a computer on it, and a singular key. I grab the key, studying it closely for any sort of labeling. It’s as long as my middle finger and silver, tipped in black. Other than that, it’s completely normal in appearance. I slip it into my nightgown pocket, and N comes in and stands behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder. He reaches into my pocket, fingers brushing against my hip as he fishes the key out and examines it. I snatch it from him and pout, widening my eyes to look more cutesy. 

 

  “There are papers on the doors,” he says, wandering over to the computer. He sits down and watching the screen for a second. “Ours has “two X AB” written on it. Some of the others are X’ed out. Something is up, Cyn. We need to leave.” 

 

  “Two X AB,” I murmur, lying on the ground. I turn the key over and over in my hands. “Two X AB. Isn’t that our blood type?”

 

  N blanches, lips parting, and he can only stare at me in horror. I shrug, throwing the key up into the air. It falls, and I catch it and throw it again. This time, it strikes me in the eye, and I yelp, hand flying up to cover it. N sighs and snags the key from off my chest, and I whimper and smack his hand away right as it retreats. He helps me up and pulls me over to the screen, jabbing his thumb against the glass. Narrowing my eyes, I peer closely at it, groaning at the sight. 

 

  It’s another warden, this one on the second floor.

 

  N and I exchange glances, and he holds the key up. “This is for the elevator,” he says. “Let’s see if we can find some way to leave.”

Notes:

Sorry if Cyn’s narration seems a bit different from normal. It’s a mix of trying something new as well as having not written anything for this fic for a while, lol. I actually had more fun writing it like this.

Whenever we get to N’s POV, I’ll try and keep it relatively simple in comparison to Cyn’s.

Series this work belongs to: