Summary: She was the only thing he ever loved. That's why she had to go.
Character Dynamics: Greta "Secret" Hayes, Billy "Harm" Hayes
Episode: Before #18, "Secrets"
A swift breeze enters her room through the open window, gently rustling the chiffon canopy of her bed. Her tired eyes follow the rolls in the disturbed fabric, eyelids nearly closing off the serene sight as the night air caresses her face. She's lulling off into a dreamless spell when the floorboards swell with the weight of an intruder. The old wood moans in effort to uplift the pressure, reeling the young girl into this present danger and from her tranquil revere.
Her heart slams against her chest as she fights the sheets of her bed to sit upright. Desperate eyes search the jagged shadows of her bedroom, dilated pupils swallowing the emerald pigment. Fear strangles her demand, "Who… Who's there?"
An object glares in the moonlight filtering through the open window, instantly captivating her attention. Fisting the sheets, she's unable to fight off a whimper as she attempts to brave herself. The floorboards wail once again as the trespasser's weight shifts slightly. Thunderstruck by a bolt of horror, she recognizes the winking dagger that punctures the dusky cloak, peeping out into view. For the past few weeks, Billy had carried it around in a holster around his jeans. Never before had he directed the offending tip towards her. He would only resort to such an action with their parents.
"Billy?" The fabric gathered in her palms shivers and she realizes that she, too, is quaking at the arms.
The requested man steps into the light, revealing the full length of the weapon and of his confident form. He takes swift, purposeful strides towards the base of her bed, lengthy mane billowing in the night draft. A sudden chill freezes Greta over, pricking goosebumps on her flesh. In retaliation to the frigid air, she yanks up the sheets for coverage, cowering in their meager protection.
A deep, throaty chuckle escapes Billy's lips as he rests his side against a beam of the canopy. Amused at the little girl's reaction, his grip on the blade tightens. "What's the matter, Greta? I just came to say goodnight."
The moonlight catches the blade in odd proportions. It's as if the weapon is tainted by something dark, by a substance that rejects the pure blaze of the moon. "W-Why is your dagger bl-bloody?"
"Because," He begins to respond, matching eyes narrowing in cynical glee. The velvet rumble of his voice is low and dangerous, "It's just you and me now, kid."
Pandemonium breaks loose at this revelation. In one fluid movement, Billy lunges at her, wielding the knife towards her heart. Unleashing a petrified scream, she hauls her body off the side of the bed, legs still ensnared in the pink overlay. Her shoulder is crushed as she impacts the floor. Above her, coiled springs moan as Billy retracts the blade from the torn mattress. The downy intestines of the bed escape through the gash as he swings his legs over the side in pursuit of his sister.
She's attempting the scramble up from the floor, fighting off the tangle of bed sheets when he sends a merciless sweep to the back of her neck. Howling in pain, she doubles over, cold fingers clasping at the offended junction. Just as he is about to mount her from behind and press the blade into her throbbing pulse line, she blinks through the burning tears and sees him in her peripheral vision. She reaches out in a desperate attempt to trip him as her arms encircle his calves like a vice. His stride falters as he's taken off guard, wobbling in her grasp and finally pitching forward. She releases him as he begins to fall, hiking up from all fours to escape the bedroom. Catching the edge of a nearby vanity, Billy grits his teeth in pain when he's unable to prevent his knee from digging into the corner of the furniture. Hoisting his body up to stand, his livid gaze sights the trailing wave of Greta's blonde tresses as she hurriedly rounds the doorway. Quick to pursue his target, he chases after her with a slight limp.
His ears recognize her lightweight footfalls descending the main stairwell. Veering from the main hallway, he reaches out for the railing with his free hand, knuckles bleached bloodless at the intensity of his grasp. Just as he sets foot the first step, a satisfied grin smears across his face when Greta's strident shriek of fear echoes up the staircase. He cascades down the stairs in time to see her soar through the air, skipping an entire flight of stairs, and impact the ground with an appeasing thud. Before she can pick herself up, Billy digs a knee into her spine, causing her to writhe beneath him. The cool edge of his dagger rests at the nape of her neck as he gathers her thick, pale locks between his free fingers. The pads of each digit graze her scalp, roughly shoving her face into the floorboard.
Dread accumulates in her chest, racking her body with dry, shuddering sobs. She thrashes from side to side, trying to squirm out of his vicious hold. When the blade pricks her flesh, however, her body goes rigid beneath him.
"Don't cry, Greta." His guttural growl assaults the back of her neck, failing to soothe her hysterical mind, "I'll take away all your pain."
"Why?" She is still beneath him, her slight muscles bunched together by apprehension. His knee stabs her spine again, causing a spasm of shock to travel up to her bleeding neck. Whimpering in pain, her plea almost sounds pathetic. "Why are you doing this, Billy?"
Drawing back the dagger, he manhandles her by the shoulder, roughly shoving her backside into the ground as he flips her over. Now, with the tip of the blade resting against her bobbing throat; she can see the murderous glee in his eyes, the crude lines of his warrior paint, and the blood that matted the ends of his hair. The fingers that are raveled in her hair clutch her more securely, "You know why."
"For power?" She screeches in disbelief. Hot trails of tears gush down her ashen complexion. "You'll kill me to for power?"
Suddenly, his gaze hardens as his daunting leer morphs into a menacing scowl. "I gave you the chance to live. I told you what I had to do in order to become pure."
Her visage personifies despair so absolute, it takes him aback. He inches away from her wet face, murderous grip wavering on the weapon. "I didn't think you'd actually kill me, Billy."
Crying out in rage, he draws his arm back, preparing to lodge the dagger into her chest. On a whim, Greta tucks her knees to her torso and lashes out in a scissor kick with just enough force to knock him off of her. Clawing at the ground, she supports herself to stand before Billy can pounce again and sprints into the kitchen. Not daring to look behind, she snags a chair from the dinner table and shoves it in Billy's path. Anything to put distance between them.
Twisting the knob to the backdoor, it nearly flies off the hinges as she bursts into the fenced in yard. Hurtling towards one of the obstructive panels, she jumps up and secures a hold on one of the gaps as she begins to ascend her escape to freedom. Hearing her brother's pounding footfalls emerge from the doorway, she scrambles up the side, straining to reach the upper ledge to pull her battered body over to the other side. It is to no avail, however.
Unleashing a murderous roar, Billy rams into the fence with his side, crushing her legs beneath his superior weight. A predatory gleam ignites his eyes as she crumples to the ground, coiling into herself in crippling agony. Yanking her up by the hair, he forces her to stand despite her miserable protests. She looks up at him with watery eyes, "Please… stop."
He simply retaliates by shoving her head into the fence, fingers curling around her neck, causing the wood to splinter into her flesh as it gives way. Her tormented shrills rip through the dead of the night, muddled with the stream of blood that trickles heavily onto her tongue. The taste of pennies galls her as she's pinned from behind. Her face feels numb, but the rest of her body ignites in pain, "Stop! Stop it, Billy! Please! Stop!"
In her final utterance of life, she gasps as a sharp, stabbing pain spears through her chest.
"No, Greta. I'll never stop." In his demonic assent for power, he twists the blade even deeper in the sputtering girl's breast as a bestial smirk purrs into her ear, "I'm not sorry, beloved sister. You're only making me more powerful."
The vitality fades from her face, morphing it into a pallid and bloody mask. Her glassy eyes reflect the neon haze that entitles the shop across the street as her body goes limp. It's the last thing she sees.
A/N: My take on how Harm murders his sister. It just makes me sick. But I was really curious. So, as far as the dialogue goes, I decided that Harm wouldn't use his annoying third-person singular dialect until after he killed Greta. Especially considering that he didn't go by "Harm" until after murdering her.
I'm not sure if this is similar to how this whole killing thing went down. I mean, in the comics Billy electrocuted her while he used his dagger on her in the show. So I guess what I've written is pretty plausible? What do you think? Yes? No? Let me know in a review! (: I'd really appreciate it!