Her father's outrage covered some of the screams, but not all. Shock kept her eyes locked on the horror that was befalling them. The club smashing into her father over and over again, her mother screaming and moaning until it was nothing more than moans leaving her lips.
When the last one climbed off my mother I could finally see her beautiful face. She was beyond pain, her mind fractured. She begged for more, wanted more of what they had done to her. Bile rises in my throat, the child I was is just now figuring out what has happened.
My mother caressed herself, and lifted her white skirt for more. She begged them to finish her, to continue the assault. She was weak. My father yelled at her, trying to reach inside her mind, he was horrified by what she was doing. And yet he told her he did not blame her, and that he would always love her, he understood.
Another sick thud sounded from the club. This one smashed against his face, while I stood behind the grate and covered my mouth with my hands. Stupid child. Weak child. One fucking word from her and this could have been averted. One whisper from her lips and they could have died, just one…
Another sickening blow and with it the only sound left inside of the room is the Fae snickering, as they laughed and my mother's inaudible gibberish as she begs them for their touch. I turn from where I am sitting on my knees, watching as the child I had been tilted her small blonde head and wiped away the useless tears that streaked down her face.
If I'd been stronger.
If I'd not been so weak.
I'd still have my parents.
I noticed a new Fae has arrived—not sure what kind he was and he appeared to be arguing with the other ones who had savaged my family, the taller Dark Fae that seemed like the group's leader smiled unaffected by the newcomer's outrage.
"This wasn't supposed to happen here. We were only supposed to question them and retrieve the Gift! What have you done?" The new Fae argues angrily.
"Consider them questioned. The weak fool should have never agreed to retrieve the Gift. He brought this upon all of us by changing his mind! Maybe now everything will right its course and we will go to war as should have happened long ago." He slid closer to my mother, "The next person who comes through the door, you will shoot them whore," He smiled with his cold lifeless smile, and whispered his heartless words against my mother's ear.
"I will," my mother whispered softly. Her eyes flickered on the bloody lump that had been my father. He wasn’t dead, but my child-self didn’t know that, she was waiting.
I'm not sure how long I had waited in that hiding place or how much time had passed before I climbed out. It had felt like an eternity to me back then.
I watched as the Fae tore the house apart, they were looking for something, searching. Time passed, I had kept still not daring to move, or uncover my mouth where my hand was holding the scream at bay. I listened, the door closed and still I didn’t come out.
My mother was holding the gun, the one they gave her. The silver caught in the sun's rays as it streamed through the windows. When I finally did climb out, she just watched me. I wasn’t sure if it was because I didn’t walk through the door that she hadn’t shot me right away.
She was alive, and yet her mind had been cleared of everything. She was a blank slate. No memories of us remained inside her mind. No recognition showed inside her eyes. Nothing. "Momma," I whispered.
She turned and held out the gun and took aim at me. I didn’t back down, didn’t falter. "Momma, please!" My voice had shook. Stupid child can’t see that she is gone, couldn’t tell that her mother had been turned FIZ.
"Syn…" my father's voice was shallow, the blood he was choking on floods from his lips.
"Daddy?" I moved towards him, but the gun followed me.
I stopped, glaring down the business end of the gun. My eyes had swum with tears. I could feel the life draining from my father, his breathing grew shallow with each attempt he made to get more words out.
"Never…forget Syn…secret…our secret…never forget," his eyes rolled back in his head, the child struggled to understand his words, struggled to understand why he was staring at the ceiling. He'd died right in front of me that day. She didn’t understand death, she will.
What Secret? I never understood this part, or what he had told me.
She turned to go back to her mother, the gun still aimed at her. She was going to pull that trigger soon. Her finger was locked on the trigger, her void eyes seeing nothing. "Mommy please, I'll be good!" The child wailed.
The gun went off.
I watched as the child’s hand flicked the air, and deflected the bullet.
It went back the way it had come from.
Blood splattered and covered my face. I stood there and watched her, without making a sound. The only sound inside the room was the sound of my heart beating with magic. I killed my mother. Instead of sending the gun out of her hands I killed her.