a/n: i almost forgot to do this

this story is based off of Carrie (one of my favorite horror films as a kid) and contains-

- Child abuse

- Mentions of animal death

-Death in general

so if any of this stuff bothers you, please don't read this!

Also if this story seems familiar, it's because I posted it before on my ao3 account!

In Flames

…

Richard Tweak spent most of his boyhood praying something like this wouldn't happen.

He'd hoped that his mother had been bluffing when she said his father possessed godlike powers, being able to move things with his mind, because frankly, the thought of that terrified him. A person that could do those sorts of things surely had no soul and Richard wanted nothing to do with those types of people.

All he wanted was to run a successful coffee shop with his wife, Cindy, and to later pass the family business on to his child.

When he thought about what this child might be like, he'd always pictured someone calm and confident and above all, normal. Someone that would assuredly go on to repeat the cycle Richard had started, by handing the torch to the next generation of Tweaks and on and on and on. He'd also envisioned someone attractive like his wife, tall and lean, popular among the opposite sex.

That is not what he got.

Instead, he had a twitchy, paranoid, insecure mess of a son who had inherited his big, sharp nose and large, ugly ears. The boy somehow managed to make Cindy's large, pixie like eyes look odd instead of endearing, the light freckles dusting his cheeks nowhere near as charming as his mother's.

They called him Tweek, neither one of them feeling attached enough to their offspring to bother coming up with a better name.

The disinterest in their son soon turned into bitter resentment toward him the more he embarrassed them in public with his outbursts and so they eventually decided to keep him locked away in his room, only releasing him so he could attend school and the services held at church on Sundays. If he got especially antsy and started to pace around, his feet thumping against the floor harshly, or better yet got the nerve to pound on the door and beg to be released, they'd simply hold him down and tie him to the bed until he quieted down.

They used this method when he first practiced witchcraft as well.

Cindy tried to love the boy. She did. Tweek had only been about four years old and he was wailing, clinging to his mother as she rocked him gently in an attempt to calm him. He was screaming about something he'd seen in his room, terrified out of his wits by his own overactive imagination. "Richard, would you please get his sippy cup?" Cindy called out to her husband over the sound of her baby's sobs.

Richard had barely moved when Tweek started screeching, "No, no, no! No coffee! Want mommy!" his tiny head shaking fiercely as he tightened his arms around his mother's neck, dreading the thought of having to let her go. Unbeknownst to them, Tweek despised the way coffee made his tummy feel, how jittery he would be after being left with no choice but to drink the burning liquid he would later grow an aggravating dependency on. He wished that stupid coffeemaker would just burst into a thousand tiny glass pieces.

And that's exactly what it did.

Shards went flying everywhere, Richard yelping in pain when one strikes his cheek and a few others plant themselves into his arms as he raises them to shield himself. Tweek shrieks as Cindy ducks, covering him with her body. Concern for her son flies out the window, however, when she sees the blood gushing out of a long gash on her husband's face and she drops the child, rushing over to Richard's aid immediately.

"Richard! Are you okay, dear?! What happened?!" She cried, moving to check his wounds. He brushes her off, his eyes wide with bewilderment.

"You," he accused in a strangled voice, pointing his finger at Tweek who lay on the floor where his mother left him. He was whimpering in pain, the fall from his mothers arms having bruised his side and he rubbed at it, unaware of the trouble he was in. "Did you do this, boy?"

"W-What?!"

"Did you do this?!"

At the sound of his father's booming voice, Tweek's shrill, fearful screams filled the air once more and he extended his chubby little arm out, reaching for his mother. "Mommy!"

A powerful force suddenly flung Cindy away from Richard, and she landed with a loud thud next to Tweek, horror flashing through her bugged out, mossy green eyes as she scrambled backwards to distance herself from the small child. He sniffled, attempting to crawl toward her on all fours, just wanting to be held and she kicked her feet at him, "Stay away from me! Richard!"

It was just as Richard's own mother said. "Your daddy got it from his grandfather, that wicked curse. Your boy will likely have it too." He'd thought she was full of shit when she had first told him that, but as time wore on, the possibility of his own son being… possessed by the devil (As Richard was sure that was the reasoning behind these supernatural powers and his late mother would agree with him.) became his biggest fear.

And here it was, becoming a reality.

He winced at the stinging pain in his body where the glass had cut him but he fought to ignore it, racing forward to pluck Tweek up and throw him over his shoulder. "Grab the rope from the supply closet, honey, we have to contain him."

Cindy didn't question this, on her feet instantly to fetch the rope and Tweek kicked and screamed as Richard stormed up the stairs, thrashing about wildly when his father kicks his bedroom door open and throws him on the bed. The door begins slamming open and shut repeatedly, as do the drawers in his dresser, the books lined up neatly on his shelf throwing themselves off, each with a louder bang than the last.

Jumping onto the bed, Richard holds his sons arms down, keeping his hands wrapped tightly around his wrists, his own weight on top of Tweek's much smaller legs keeping them still. "Calm down, son," Richard commands through gritted teeth, staring down at his witch son with eyes full of hate, "We're just going to tie you down until you learn to behave, okay?"

Tweek squirms, squeaking in disapproval as he wheezes out apologies, promising that whatever he did, he didn't mean to and that he'll be a much better boy if Richard releases him. The hands around his wrists tighten their hold and he moans in pain, throwing his head back and crying out even more apologies.

The sound of Cindy's hurried footsteps somehow reach Tweek's ears and he whips his head around, his cheek squished against his pillow as he calls out for her, "Mommy?!" The doors cease their movement, allowing her to enter the room, Tweek's breath catching when he spots the rope in her hands.

"Tie him up, Cindy do it!"

She does, ignoring her child's desperate pleas, snot dripping down out of his nostrils as his wailing quiets down to soft sniffling. When she's finished, Richard moves off of Tweek, eyes foggy with contempt.

"What is he?" Cindy questions shakily, grabbing onto her husband's uninjured arm.

"The devil's spawn, probably," Richard says as casually as one would say 'The sky is blue', "It's up to us to keep it contained, Cindy. There's no telling what could happen if we let this thing run loose."

"And when he's older?"

Tweek tugs at his bindings, howling with pain at the raw feeling of rope rubbing against his sensitive skin.

Richard turns to his wife, face grim. "We'll have to keep him chained up in the basement. It's the only way."

Cindy nods, tearing up as she leads him out of the bedroom, leaving Tweek alone and tied to his bed. He flinches when he hears a door on the floor below him slam, notifying him of his parents departure, probably to seek medical attention for his father's injuries.

Hyperventilating, Tweek stares at the ceiling, feeling small and alone. He didn't understand how he did what he did or why it upset them so much but if they didn't hate him before, they surely did now. More tears streamed down his cheeks as he thought of this, scolding himself for scaring the only two people that sometimes tolerated him. His mother would never hold him again after all of that and his chest heaved as he cried even harder.

His little life had only just begun and it was already headed downhill.

Naively, Tweek tried to look on the bright side, thinking that maybe nothing could ever be worse than this.

But unfortunately for him, this is only the beginning.