Hola guys! This is my third fanfiction and, like my others, this story is based on another. It's a computer video game called Mad Father. It has pretty much the same plot, just different characters, events, blah blah blah. I'm going to warn you, I usually don't finish stories because I get tired of them…but if I get a lot of feedback, I think I can manage to finish it. I have the main plot in mind already. I'll do my best and I hope you enjoy the story!

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Chapter One: In the Middle of the Night

Valentine had always been a responsible father to Clarissa. He had never failed to cheer her up if she cried or brush her hair if there were any stubborn knots. His heartfelt laugh was all she ever needed to make her happy.

Jocelyn was the same. She read her stories during the harshest storms and cooked her favorite meals. She passed away two years ago from a terrible fever. Clary must have cried for hours the first week. But her father was still there, wiping her tears.

"Remember what your mother said about her spell? The one that would make you happy?"

"Yes…'Smiles are like angel wings, flapping while the angel sings. Our smiles will always show, while our love continue to grow.'"

"Very good. Your mother will always watch over you, as long as you smile."

"With all the angels?"

"That's right, Clarissa."

If her father hadn't been right beside her, she would still be mourning today. But she had some suspicions and uncertainties about him lately. Straight after dinner, he retreats to his 'study room' with Maryse and doesn't show his face again until morning. She had been feeling some sort of 'attraction' between him and Maryse.

Maryse has always been a pleasant lady, but Clary tries to avoid her because of her suspicions. She may be only ten years old, but Clary surpasses the average intelligence of a young teenager because she spends a lot of the time reading in her library. And she had read a great amount of love fantasy books. She is well aware of the changing behavior and language between her father and the nurse.

Clary never dared disobey her father, as he can be quite frightening if he is enraged. Whenever she is caught cleaning knives or playing with broken shards of glass, she is scolded. She has never been inside the study room. She had remembered him telling her tales about the room to scare her, but she secretly never believed them. But fearing that her father would get angry, she kept her distance from the its entrance.

Clary had just finished her dinner and had offered to wash the dishes. Her father grinned and smoothed back her hair. "There's no need, Sweety. Go to bed and get a good night's rest."

Clary nodded and went on her tippy-toes to kiss her father on the cheek. "Goodnight, father." Maryse was tidying up the dinner table and putting the dishes in the sink.

"If you want, Maryse can-" But she had already ran up the polished wooden staircase, pretending not to hear him, without glancing at Maryse. She entered her room and closed the door lightly, heart pumping a bit faster than normal. Clary didn't feel sleepy enough to lie down, so she reached into her closet for her dolls. She did this often to distract herself from thinking about Maryse. She pulled out two of them and a toy comb. Clary fixed the silky, blonde hair and brushed it with the comb.

Her father had made her many beautiful dolls, since she had no friends or siblings to play with. Her mother used to sow outfits for the dolls. But now, the dresses were slightly torn and tinted with dirt. Clary felt the corner of her lips slide down. Almost as if a weight had brought down her shoulders, she was suddenly upset.

She stood up and opened her top drawer. She pulled out a picture of her mother and sat down on her bed. In this picture, her mother was in a blue and white dress. It was the last picnic they had gone on as a whole family. I miss you, mom. Before the burning tears could get passed her eyes, she slid under her covers and turned to the wall.

Clary placed the precious photo under her pillow and whispered goodnight to her mother. Eventually, she dozed off into sleep.

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Her eyes peeped open after a noise that could have made her ears bleed if it were close by, though she couldn't decipher what it was. She couldn't get her eyes open and nearly fell back asleep. Her head moved forward and banged into the wall. She clenched the top of her head and scrunched her eyes together. She opened her eyes and found the picture plastered against her head somehow. As soon the pain went away, she sat upright and removed the picture from her face. Clary rubbed her eyes and whispered to herself, "What was that?" She got out of bed and felt the ground wobble beneath her. She glanced at the clock and it was a little bit past 11:00 p.m.

She walked out of her room and saw that all of the lights were off, making it difficult to see further than a five feet radius. She held onto the railing as she carefully made her way down the stairs. She continued on the maroon carpet, looking for any sign of danger. Clary started with the east wing, opening and closing doors as she passed, with the occasional call for her father. After briefly searching the first floor, Clary tried to tame her nerves and stood still to think clearly. The sound should have been very loud, but it sounded far. It couldn't have been on the second floor, which means…

Clary cautiously made her way to the door to her father's study. She stopped in front and reached for the knob. She was vaguely aware that she has never been passed this entrance and may be eaten alive for all she knew. But the unnerving noise she heard must be enough for an excuse. This could be her only opportunity to see the study. She forced her chin up and opened the door.

And she saw a normal study room. Book shelves aligned the walls. A large table with stacks of books and a bright lamp was placed in the middle. There was even a comfy looking couch towards the back and porcelain statues of people for decoration. Clary wasn't sure what she expected, but there was nothing here.

But there was another door within the study. She tried twisting that knob, but it wouldn't open. Father must be inside here. She needed a spare key, or something to pry it open. Clary rummaged through his drawers. The only contents she found were papers and folders. She vigorously tried picking the lock with a paper clip, but it wouldn't budge. She stood on one of the chairs and brushed her hand across the top surface of a cabinet and found nothing. Her eyes scavenged the room and noticed something about the statues. She came down from the chair and studied the statues. They were life size, with real fabric for the accessories and clothing. Basically only the skin was porcelain. Going around the room, it looked like stages throughout a child's life. There were unique poses, like a baby crawling or a girl doing a cartwheel. She made her way to the most developed statue. It was a grinning, young girl with a hand up in the air, as if she were waving. She was holding a doll in her hand that rested beside a handbag. Clary put her tiny fingers inside the bag. She felt something hard and heard a cling inside the porcelain. Clary raised herself as high as she could on her toes and grasped the item. She pulled it out and sure enough it was a silver key. Clary plugged the key into the slot of the door and turned it.

The door pushed inward, revealing a set of staircases that she couldn't even see the bottom of. Before making any silly mistakes, she snatched the flashlight she had found inside a drawer and the handbag around one of the statues to carry it if there were another light source. She didn't know why she was getting so prepared for walking down a flight of stair, but something was telling her that she might not get out for a long while…

Clary held her flashlight in front of her as she took her first steps down the stone stairwell. The view trembled because of her shaking arm. It was a surprisingly long way down, but she finally stood on the basement floor. She was ready to bolt back up. There was a long hallway that curved, and it was aligned with lit torches. Torches. Everything felt a little too medieval. At least she didn't have to waste batteries, she thought as she put her flashlight away.

"Father?" She called out to no one. And no one answered. Clary reluctantly walked down the corridor. Her indoor shoes clacked against the stone floor. "Maryse?" She knew she was desperate if she had called out her name. Clary wanted to run down the hallway and find her father, but she didn't exactly want to sprint to her doom. Doom? That's an exaggeration. She hoped.

She saw a couple of doors up ahead. But stopped abruptly when she heard a faint noise. She couldn't tell if it were coming from behind or in front, so she stood still. As the scuffling noise increased, she was definitely sure it was coming from behind. Digging her nails into her palm she turned around. She saw an inhumane human in the distance crawling on all fours at lightning speed, like a bug. Clary suppressed a scream as she sprinted forward. The scuffling didn't fade away. She dared to glance back and saw that it was gaining on her. She couldn't care less about where this hallway went to, she needed to get out of that thing's sight. Her handbag bounced much to her annoyance on her leg. Breathing heavily, she looked back and saw the monster scurry over the walls and the ceiling, leaving red marks wherever it stepped.

It scampered with frightening speed and made horrible squealing noises. It was directly above her now. Clary nearly tripped over her own feet and tried to see ahead through her water-filled eyes. The squealing monster seemed to drop on her as the noise suddenly escalated.

It was cut off by a swift sound of air, followed by a soft noise. Clary couldn't see what was happening as she stumbled into something in front of her. The tears must have spilled out, now that her vision was clear again.

She sat on top of a blonde boy, who looked not much older than she was. He had a bandage wrapped around his right eye, but his left was golden and as calm as a seashore. "Are you okay?" Was the first thing he said.

Clary nodded and quickly got off of his stomach. Her heart still hammered against her small chest. She struggled to walk straight as she inched closer to the thing that was chasing her. It looked human, but was rotting in a few places and was missing chunks of flesh. Two knives were pinned to its head. She looked past it and saw its trace of bloody foot and handprints scattered everywhere. If this boy weren't here, what could have happened to her?

"Wha- what was that thing?" She said with her voice trembling. The boy soundlessly walked by her and retrieved his knives from its body.

"A dead corpse." The boy said simply. Clary stepped back from him a bit. He was covered in blood and had a few wounds on his arms and chest.

"But how can that be? Who are you and what are you doing in father's basement? Where is he?" Clary felt herself shake with fear.

He could sense her fear and gave her a heartwarming smile. "It's okay." Clary stopped inching away. "I'm not here to hurt you. I promise I'll try to answer your questions as best as I can. But for now," he held out his left hand, "we need to hurry; there may be more coming."

Clary definitely couldn't put all her trust into someone who was covered in blood and so many wounds. But if she were going to find her father, she was going to need more than herself. She somehow found her hand in his. "Umm…!" He turned his head. "Thank you very much for saving me."

The boy gave an accepting smile, "You're welcome." He almost began running before he added, "Clarissa."

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Hallo fanfiction readers! So that was the first chapter. I didn't want Clary to be a teenager because I wanted to show some cute innocence in her that I feel wasn't shown often on this site. Anyways, follow and favorite if you enjoyed it. Leave a review for me and tell me how it's going, or tips I can use. It would mean a lot to me! Stay awesome :)

~Beanie Wayland