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apachefirecatTitle: Her Only Friend
Fandom: Original
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: OCs
Rating: R/M
Summary: A child is made safe again.
Word Count: 1,522
Written For: The author's 13 Days of Halloween 2022 and 100 Fandom Hell: New Fandom
Warnings: Pedophilia, Character Death
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
She was old enough now. She was old enough to make her own sandwiches and reach the cereal even on the top most shelves. She was old enough to dress herself and to bathe herself, although her parents still insisted on doing this for her. She was old enough to know that other kids' parents didn't treat them as hers did her. They didn't ask them such questions or call them such loving names, and they most especially did not touch them in such ways.
She was old enough to have friends, old enough to go to school, old enough to be becoming her own person with her own likes and dislikes. She knew she liked to take long walks outdoors. She liked to play and talk with other children her age and even the occasional adult who lived nearby, but her parents always yelled at her whenever she would do such. They would tell her of the "stranger danger". Emily would always reply that the person wasn't a stranger at all. They were either a kindly neighbor who had given her a glass of water or a cookie on a hot day or just an old person watering their lawn or even just another child like herself. Those always seemed to be the worst to her parents.
Emily also knew she didn't like it when her mommy and daddy argued. She didn't like it when they yelled, threw things, screamed, cried, or those bright, silver things that they cut into their skins. She didn't like the way they treated her or how they seemed to almost hate every other living being. She had no friends. They had no friends. She wanted to go to school. They barely went out and refused to allow her to do so whenever they were home, which was why she didn't mind "keeping" herself. Other children were kept by babysitters or other family members.
Emily had never even met any other family members who she could remember, and her parents didn't speak of any. She was trained to think it was only to be the three of them, and that was normal. Yet other children seemed so much happier with their larger families. Her neighbors also seemed like genuinely kind folk. Yet every time she tried to talk to any of them, her parents would be angry at her, and Emily would always ultimately pay the price. Thus she learned not to talk to others.
She learned to accept what her mommy and daddy said were the norm and to keep to herself, and she learned that those times actually "keeping" herself were the most relaxed times she had. In those times only could she be reassured that no stinging blows, no screams or yells, no unpleasant touches would take place. She learned, too, that her only friend, the only friend she needed or was allowed to have, was a porcelain doll. She named her Emma Lynn, which she thought was very pretty and she might like to name another child one day... one day, if she ever was able to move away and make friends and maybe even find a husband and a family of her own.
But for now, her daddy was to be her only husband and her mommy and daddy her only friends. She listened to them yell and scream every day and night. She watched them hurt each other and themselves, and endured the pains inflicted on her when her time came. At least, if they were doing things to her, Emily told herself ever more often, they were not harming themselves. They seemed genuinely happy too, when they touched her in such strange ways.
Maybe they weren't strange at all, she tried to tell herself on occasion. Just because she didn't see other families touching each other in such tender ways didn't mean it didn't happen. If her parents said it was normal, it was good, it was safe, then surely it was. It was only to Emma Lynn that she whispered the truths of how she felt as she grew older still, truths that she knew upset her mommy and daddy, truths that perhaps she shouldn't feel because, after all, what they were doing was normal.
Then, one day, after an especially hard night with both of them taking turns touching her in private places, Emily slept in. She slept far pass the sun and into the night, and it was only late in the night that she finally rose. Her tummy was hungry, but the very next thing Emily noticed was that the house was very, very quiet. She had only ever heard such quietness once before when they had been in a big, fancy house and her mommy had said that a lady was resting. The lady had been really quiet, too. She had been encased in a silver, metal bed, not unlike the stories of Snow White, and, also not unlike those legendary stories, many people had come to her bed and wept over her sleeping form.
Maybe she was "keeping" herself, Emily thought, feeling a jolt of excitement. Maybe she wouldn't have to listen to her parents screaming at each other tonight or hating one another and themselves. Recently she had began to think perhaps that was their problem. They loved her but not each other or even their own selves. Why else would they always be sticking those things in their arms and hurting themselves?
But maybe tonight could stay quiet and peaceful. Maybe it could be a good night. She could find something in the fridge or cabinet and feed herself. Maybe no one would bother her tonight. Maybe she could even come back to bed, sleep some more, and hold Emma Lynn tightly.
She tip toed pass their bedroom and into the kitchen, fed herself, and after a while, started her way back to her own bedroom. At least she finally had a room of her own. It had seemed almost too good to believe at first, but then her parents had no longer liked being in the same room. They had no longer liked even playing with her in the same room, not that they ever really played. They only touched her, stroked her hair, stroked her chest, stroked her down below... She shivered even as her tummy did a funny belly flop. Maybe she shouldn't have eaten that meat that had looked a little too green after all.
Emily paused in the open doorway of her parents' room. They were actually still home, but they were so quiet. They must be asleep. She edged closer in and noticed, suddenly, that their blankets and sheets were ripped. There was a sticky, red substance everywhere. They must have gotten into another fight, she thought, but at least now, they were quiet and peaceful. She certainly wasn't going to wake them!
Emily's days continued to be calm, each day improving beyond the one before it. She played games with Emma Lynn and her other dolls and stuffed animals. She went for walks and spoke to her neighbors and other kids her age and actually didn't get yelled at for doing so. She fed herself, and though the contents of the fridge were getting less and less, she didn't worry about it. Her parents only ever wanted to sleep anymore, but eventually her mommy would go shopping for food. She never failed to supply food.
Her life was becoming genuinely peaceful, and Emily was beginning to settle almost in a routine, when a bunch of people in blue and white uniforms suddenly appeared one day. They came into her home, and her parents still didn't bother to get up and out of bed to greet them. They were all nice enough, but they were asking a lot of questions about why Emily's parents didn't want to wake up. Emily finally looked at one lady and said honestly with a little shrug, "I don't know, but it's sure been more peaceful with them sleeping more." An idea occurred to her suddenly, and she asked the adult, "Do you think that was why they were always cranky before? Do you think they just needed a really good nap?"
The adults talked and talked and talked. One particularly nice lady took Emily by the hand and led her away.
"Do you think she did it?" she heard one man in blue ask another.
The other guy shook his head. "The fingerprints don't match," he said. "I've ran checks, but they don't match anybody."
"That's weird," the first guy said, but they all climbed into their vehicles and left.
The house was left behind with not a soul moving inside of it. Everything was nice, quiet, and peaceful. And in Emily's old room, a cracked, porcelain doll smiled. A moonbeam pierced Emily's bedroom and touched the smiling doll's face. Right underneath her left eye there was the tiniest crack. Many would liken it to a clown's tear, but instead of being black, it sparkled blood red in the moonlight. Emma Lynn smiled. Her Emily was safe at last.
The End
Fandom: Original
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: OCs
Rating: R/M
Summary: A child is made safe again.
Word Count: 1,522
Written For: The author's 13 Days of Halloween 2022 and 100 Fandom Hell: New Fandom
Warnings: Pedophilia, Character Death
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
She was old enough now. She was old enough to make her own sandwiches and reach the cereal even on the top most shelves. She was old enough to dress herself and to bathe herself, although her parents still insisted on doing this for her. She was old enough to know that other kids' parents didn't treat them as hers did her. They didn't ask them such questions or call them such loving names, and they most especially did not touch them in such ways.
She was old enough to have friends, old enough to go to school, old enough to be becoming her own person with her own likes and dislikes. She knew she liked to take long walks outdoors. She liked to play and talk with other children her age and even the occasional adult who lived nearby, but her parents always yelled at her whenever she would do such. They would tell her of the "stranger danger". Emily would always reply that the person wasn't a stranger at all. They were either a kindly neighbor who had given her a glass of water or a cookie on a hot day or just an old person watering their lawn or even just another child like herself. Those always seemed to be the worst to her parents.
Emily also knew she didn't like it when her mommy and daddy argued. She didn't like it when they yelled, threw things, screamed, cried, or those bright, silver things that they cut into their skins. She didn't like the way they treated her or how they seemed to almost hate every other living being. She had no friends. They had no friends. She wanted to go to school. They barely went out and refused to allow her to do so whenever they were home, which was why she didn't mind "keeping" herself. Other children were kept by babysitters or other family members.
Emily had never even met any other family members who she could remember, and her parents didn't speak of any. She was trained to think it was only to be the three of them, and that was normal. Yet other children seemed so much happier with their larger families. Her neighbors also seemed like genuinely kind folk. Yet every time she tried to talk to any of them, her parents would be angry at her, and Emily would always ultimately pay the price. Thus she learned not to talk to others.
She learned to accept what her mommy and daddy said were the norm and to keep to herself, and she learned that those times actually "keeping" herself were the most relaxed times she had. In those times only could she be reassured that no stinging blows, no screams or yells, no unpleasant touches would take place. She learned, too, that her only friend, the only friend she needed or was allowed to have, was a porcelain doll. She named her Emma Lynn, which she thought was very pretty and she might like to name another child one day... one day, if she ever was able to move away and make friends and maybe even find a husband and a family of her own.
But for now, her daddy was to be her only husband and her mommy and daddy her only friends. She listened to them yell and scream every day and night. She watched them hurt each other and themselves, and endured the pains inflicted on her when her time came. At least, if they were doing things to her, Emily told herself ever more often, they were not harming themselves. They seemed genuinely happy too, when they touched her in such strange ways.
Maybe they weren't strange at all, she tried to tell herself on occasion. Just because she didn't see other families touching each other in such tender ways didn't mean it didn't happen. If her parents said it was normal, it was good, it was safe, then surely it was. It was only to Emma Lynn that she whispered the truths of how she felt as she grew older still, truths that she knew upset her mommy and daddy, truths that perhaps she shouldn't feel because, after all, what they were doing was normal.
Then, one day, after an especially hard night with both of them taking turns touching her in private places, Emily slept in. She slept far pass the sun and into the night, and it was only late in the night that she finally rose. Her tummy was hungry, but the very next thing Emily noticed was that the house was very, very quiet. She had only ever heard such quietness once before when they had been in a big, fancy house and her mommy had said that a lady was resting. The lady had been really quiet, too. She had been encased in a silver, metal bed, not unlike the stories of Snow White, and, also not unlike those legendary stories, many people had come to her bed and wept over her sleeping form.
Maybe she was "keeping" herself, Emily thought, feeling a jolt of excitement. Maybe she wouldn't have to listen to her parents screaming at each other tonight or hating one another and themselves. Recently she had began to think perhaps that was their problem. They loved her but not each other or even their own selves. Why else would they always be sticking those things in their arms and hurting themselves?
But maybe tonight could stay quiet and peaceful. Maybe it could be a good night. She could find something in the fridge or cabinet and feed herself. Maybe no one would bother her tonight. Maybe she could even come back to bed, sleep some more, and hold Emma Lynn tightly.
She tip toed pass their bedroom and into the kitchen, fed herself, and after a while, started her way back to her own bedroom. At least she finally had a room of her own. It had seemed almost too good to believe at first, but then her parents had no longer liked being in the same room. They had no longer liked even playing with her in the same room, not that they ever really played. They only touched her, stroked her hair, stroked her chest, stroked her down below... She shivered even as her tummy did a funny belly flop. Maybe she shouldn't have eaten that meat that had looked a little too green after all.
Emily paused in the open doorway of her parents' room. They were actually still home, but they were so quiet. They must be asleep. She edged closer in and noticed, suddenly, that their blankets and sheets were ripped. There was a sticky, red substance everywhere. They must have gotten into another fight, she thought, but at least now, they were quiet and peaceful. She certainly wasn't going to wake them!
Emily's days continued to be calm, each day improving beyond the one before it. She played games with Emma Lynn and her other dolls and stuffed animals. She went for walks and spoke to her neighbors and other kids her age and actually didn't get yelled at for doing so. She fed herself, and though the contents of the fridge were getting less and less, she didn't worry about it. Her parents only ever wanted to sleep anymore, but eventually her mommy would go shopping for food. She never failed to supply food.
Her life was becoming genuinely peaceful, and Emily was beginning to settle almost in a routine, when a bunch of people in blue and white uniforms suddenly appeared one day. They came into her home, and her parents still didn't bother to get up and out of bed to greet them. They were all nice enough, but they were asking a lot of questions about why Emily's parents didn't want to wake up. Emily finally looked at one lady and said honestly with a little shrug, "I don't know, but it's sure been more peaceful with them sleeping more." An idea occurred to her suddenly, and she asked the adult, "Do you think that was why they were always cranky before? Do you think they just needed a really good nap?"
The adults talked and talked and talked. One particularly nice lady took Emily by the hand and led her away.
"Do you think she did it?" she heard one man in blue ask another.
The other guy shook his head. "The fingerprints don't match," he said. "I've ran checks, but they don't match anybody."
"That's weird," the first guy said, but they all climbed into their vehicles and left.
The house was left behind with not a soul moving inside of it. Everything was nice, quiet, and peaceful. And in Emily's old room, a cracked, porcelain doll smiled. A moonbeam pierced Emily's bedroom and touched the smiling doll's face. Right underneath her left eye there was the tiniest crack. Many would liken it to a clown's tear, but instead of being black, it sparkled blood red in the moonlight. Emma Lynn smiled. Her Emily was safe at last.
The End
