Author's Note

Mad Father is easily one of my favorite Indie games, particularly because of its rich storyline, and the fact that it makes you question who you love and who you hate several times over the course of the story.

I plan on this being a relatively short fic, maybe only two or three chapters at the most. I'm estimating, of course, that that's all I'll need to completely tell the story. We'll see, though.

I hope you enjoy this fanfiction. But whether you liked it or not, please do review! I'd love to know what you think! Thanks, lovelies~

xxx

CHAPTER ONE:

Happy Birthday, Dr. Drevis

As the orange rays of the setting sun drifted through the open windows of the small clinic, Aya Drevis sat in her bedroom, sitting comfortably in an aged rocking chair, daintily sipping a cup of tea that Maria had prepared for her. She was happy. No, happy did not do her feelings justice. She was ecstatic. Exuberant. Jubilant. Amongst other things.

Today was her eighteenth birthday. And, as a present, Maria had gone out earlier to purchase some material to create an absolutely beautiful new dress. Not for Aya, of course, but rather, her doll. Future doll, really. For today was the day she received one. A girl by the name of Josephine would be stopping by that evening for treatment for her respiratory issues. She would be stopping by shortly, actually, Aya noted. She hummed as she rose and set her teacup and saucer on a nearby nightstand. Her indigo eyes scanned the room. She sighed, then turned to leave her bedroom, pausing slightly to ghost her pale fingertips over the worn red cover of the old book that once belonged to her father: The New Text of Anatomy. Sure, she may have been slightly afraid of it when she had been much, much younger, but as she matured, she had grown much more fond of the book. It had taught her more than she could've ever dreamt of learning on her own.

The girl left the room to see her father's former assistant walk through the front door of the clinic, a woven basket on her arm. And in that basket, was a lovely cobalt fabric that, from Aya's point of view, appeared similar to silk. Along with the primary set of material, there were other, smaller rolls of various laces and things of that sort. Maria set the basket on the table of the kitchen and smiled at Aya. "Are they to your liking, Mistress?" she inquired politely. Although Aya had insisted it wasn't necessary, Maria had never ceased calling her 'Mistress' after leaving the mansion. Old habits die hard, Aya supposed.

The young woman smiled in return at the feeling of the soft blue material. "Yes, very much so, Maria. Thank you," she said in answer, with equal politeness. Although on the surface, Maria appeared to be fond enough of her, Aya couldn't help but wonder if that was how she truly felt, or if her feelings were different. However, she hadn't broached the subject. Yet. That could wait, she decided. Today was supposed to be about happy things.

"Josephine will be arriving any minute now, Mistress. Shall I prepare the necessary materials?" inquired the maid.

"Oh yes, thank you, Maria. That would be best," answered Aya. Maria turned and vanished into the spacious room that actually was the Drevis clinic. At once, Aya was struck with a familiar urge. It began as a small pulsing in the back of her skull, but it gradually escalated to a full-scaled headache. She turned on her heels and hurried back into her bedroom. She needed to see the pictures again.

Aya snatched the red book right off of her desk and flipped open to a random page. There, in the center of the page on the left, was a beautiful photograph of a body in the process of being dissected. It was breathtaking. At once, her headache receded, sated by the intake of these images. Smiling dreamily, she flipped through her favorite book, pausing every so often to gaze fondly down at a picture. Yes, her father's line of work was indeed the best path for her to walk upon...

Suddenly, she frowned, but she did not close the book. Her father himself would not have wanted this, she knew. He wanted her to remain unsullied by such things. But Aya loved her father with all her heart, and although he would be displeased by the path she had chosen, she cared more about preserving her father's legacy. Continuing his line of work kept him alive in her heart, and that was what really mattered to her. Her countenance was graced with a serene smile once more, and she closed the book and replaced it back on the desk.

Thinking of her father always led her mind back to the events of her previous life, as the young child of the Drevis household. She thought again of the subjects whose lives her father had taken, and how happy it had made him that he was doing it for the sake of beauty, even if the subjects hadn't seen it that way.

And thinking of the subjects led her thoughts back to one in particular: the golden-haired youth who had saved her and Maria from being killed by her father. One of the only regrets Aya had was never learning her savior's name. It would only have been polite to thank him by name, after all. She oftentimes wondered about that boy, and every so often, she would explore the possibility of him still being around after setting fire to the mansion. But then, she realized that that notion was impossible; the curse had worn off, and so there was no possible way that he could still have remained 'alive', so to speak. No way at all.

Aya sighed. Sometimes, she couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if the boy still were around. And sometimes, admittedly, she found herself wishing she knew just a bit more about the mysterious, nameless youth who'd saved her life...

The young woman stood up straighter. No time to keep musing like this. She had to switch over to her 'doctor' mentality. She smiled again. There was nothing more exciting than making your own birthday present, just how you wanted it, too-

Aya.

The raven-haired young woman looked up in surprise. Had she just heard a... voice in her head? She shook her head, dark locks shifting out of place as she did then decided to leave her bedroom to see how Maria was coming along with the preparations. She took a step forward, already trying to disregard the supposed 'voice'. It was probably just all in her imagination-

Stop this, Aya.

Aya stopped abruptly in the doorway and whirled back around to see if someone else was in the room with her, although this was a ridiculous notion; no one else lived there but her and Maria. As she had expected, the room was void of people. Snowball munched on some leaves in his bed in the corner, and if Aya had been any more childish, she would have drafted the wild assumption that Snowball had been speaking to her. But she was too old for such implausible ideas. She decided to ignore the voice, at that point. She had no reason to heed it if she didn't know to whom it belonged.

Please, Aya... Stop the madness...

The young woman stayed true to her resolution for the time being and turned back on her heels and began to make her way to the operating room. But the voice was not done, it seemed. It returned with a newfound fury, in a tone so loud and authoritative that the shocked Aya nearly jumped right out of her pale skin.

LISTEN TO ME, AYA.

Now, she was thoroughly frightened. She leaned against the wall and gripped the sides of her head with her hands. Aya decided, at last, to try and reason with this voice, since it would not leave of its own accord, obviously.

Who are you? she tentatively thought these words, directed at the anonymous voice.

Aya, please, you can't do this... Not again...

Growing slightly frustrated, she decided to attempt a more demanding approach. I asked, who are you?!

They never wanted you to turn out this way, Aya...

Irritation growing exponentially with each dodged question of hers, Aya clenched her fists and bit her lip. She then tried to revert back to a calmer tone. Please just tell me who you are!

I'm coming for you, Aya. Just wait for me, please. I'll be there soon. Please don't hurt that girl. You can't travel any farther down your father's path...

Aya would most definitely have responded, yet there was a feeling deep inside her that told her that even if she did, the voice would not answer again.

She massaged her temples in an attempt to clear her mind. She absolutely had to before she began her treatment of little Josephine, or else, something could go wrong, and her doll would be ruined, as would her birthday. She would not have that.

At last, she made it to the operation room. Maria had dutifully prepared all of her tools and other necessary materials on a table. The maid looked up from straightening the tools as Aya entered the large room. "Mistress, are you well? You seem pale," she commented. Aya smiled reassuringly.

"I am fine," she insisted. "Just excited, you know? I mean, Jean made a very lovely doll, but she was hardly birthday present material. I'm just so happy that I'm receiving a doll so special today."

Maria nodded understandingly, a small smile shaping her cherry lips as well. "You become more and more like your father every day, Mistress," she said, then went back to her task.

Aya's smile faltered for just a mere moment. Normally, she would have taken such a comment for a compliment. But for some reason, Maria's words made her feel... different. Slightly... sick. This sensation frightened her, though she tried not to let it show. She was trying to wrap her mind around it. Why would something that used to make her feel good about herself now make her feel sick, of all things? It just didn't make any sense...

She was drawn from her deep thoughts by Maria's soft voice. "I believe that Josephine should have arrived by now..." she noted. Aya paled slightly.

"Maybe she's just running late. It happens..." she replied weakly, trying to convince herself rather than Maria that this was the case. If her doll didn't show up to the appointment... her birthday would be ruined. Today was supposed to be special. Meaning, nothing could go wrong.

Suddenly feeling weary, Aya wandered out of the room and into the kitchen, where she sat in a chair, lacking her usual ladylike grace. She propped her elbows up on the table before her and massaged her temples with her hands, her hands that had rapidly grown clammy with her nervousness. She's just running late, she's just running late, she's just running late... Aya repeated the mantra in her head, trying to regulate her breathing and slow her pulse. But she knew that there was no way to calm herself down until she knew for sure that her patient, her birthday present, was going to make it.

She jerked her head up as the door to the clinic burst open loudly. Aya rose immediately and began to make her way towards to door to greet her patient, although she wondered vaguely why Josephine had opened the door in such a harsh fashion. But she froze when she saw who it really was that had come through the door, and it was not her patient.

It was the boy.

The one who'd saved her life all those years ago.

He was there.

Alive.

Aya was speechless. Her mind seemed to cease all thought process, and all she could do was stand there, frozen, and look at the boy- no, the young man who stood before her. The side of his face on her left was wrapped up in stark white bandages, as it always had been. His other eye, however, held an emotion that she'd never dreamt she'd see on him: anger. Her mouth fell slightly agape, and suddenly, her formerly blank mind was awhirl with questions. Why is he here? Wasn't he dead before? How is he still ali-

Her thoughts were interrupted as the youth reached out and seized her by both of her shoulders, and there was nothing she could do about it in her shocked state. And then, he spoke in a low, frighteningly familiar tone.

"Aya," he said simply, and the young woman recognized his voice immediately as the one that had invaded her head before.

She tried to speak through her hazy thoughts. "You..." He said nothing in response, but held her gaze with his own eye, looking deep, as if he were staring into her very soul. A shiver travelled down Aya's spine. "You're supposed to be... dead..."

Before the youth could say anything in response, Maria suddenly appeared. "Mistress, who-" She cut herself off once she analyzed the situation. It appeared that she, too, recognized the blonde, for the surprise quickly faded from her emerald eyes and she said, quietly, "It is you..."

The young man carried on as if Maria had said nothing at all, every one of his words directed at Aya and Aya alone. "I've come here... to..." He paused and shook his head vigorously. For the first time, Aya realized that he was panting, as though he'd just run a very long way... which she didn't doubt. She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, the blonde continued.

"Th... that girl you were going to... to treat... she..." He paused to take a very deep breath. "She's dead."

Aya's eyes widened. "No... but... but... how..." She paled even more, and felt herself begin to sway on her feet, but the young man's grip held firm, supporting her.

"I went to find her before coming here. I wanted to convince her not to come, but by the time I found her, she..." He shook his head again, though with less vigor. "She was just dead. I don't know how. I swear." he added, as if he thought Aya would not believe him. Which she was half inclined to do.

Sadness overtook her features as it slowly sank in that her birthday was ruined. Her present would never be hers. "No... but... today was supposed to be... I was supposed to... no..."

She continued to mutter to herself, and the blonde youth said nothing for a long moment, before he spoke again, a dark, serious gentleness to his voice. "Aya, listen to me..." When the dark-haired girl raised her eyes to look at him once again, he went on. "Your mother... she wished for me to find you again."

This immediately distracted Aya from her sorrow. "Mother...? Why...?"

That frustrated glint from before returned to his good eye, and Aya blinked curiously. "Because..." he hissed through gritted teeth. "You've gone mad, Aya! Just like your father!" Before she could say anything, he went on, his voice rife with frustration, and, to Aya's surprise, sorrow. "Can't you see? Can't you see what you're doing? You're turning out just like him."

And then, she interjected, a frown marring her beautiful features. "I know that!" The blonde was speechless, and Aya took advantage of the silence. "I want to be just like Father!" She lowered her voice, but kept her tone firm. "I like walking this path. Father was a good man, he was just misunderstood. Carrying on doing what he did keeps him all the more alive to me!"

The boy fixed her with a dumbfounded look, as though he could not process what she just said. "Aya... Neither of your parents wanted you to turn out like this! This isn't how it's supposed to be!"

Aya scowled indignantly, an expression upon her face that was most unlike her. "This is how it's supposed to be! I'm preserving beauty, just like Father used to!" Her voice gradually softened as she went on. "I do love Mother, but she can't deny me my future like Father wanted to. I know that she would understand."

The boy went silent again, but it was a different kind of silence this time; a dark, frustrated silence, brimming with tension. And then, his grip on her shoulders tightened considerably. "Aya, do you remember what you promised me?" The young woman narrowed her eyes. Where was he going with this...?

He went on. "You promised me that you would never forget your father's victims. And look what you're doing, Aya!" he exclaimed, voice taut with emotion. "You're doing just what he did! Did the people he killed mean nothing to you?" Aya's indigo gaze slowly drifted to the ground. "You're acting like the lives lost didn't matter at all... Here you are, killing and creating those things just like he used to..."

"I burned down that mansion," he continued, expression tinged with regret. "to prevent this from happening, just as she wished, but..." Aya's widened eyes snapped back up to the boy, lips parted slightly. The blonde furrowed his brows and narrowed his eye. "...But for what?! If you're only going to turn out the same as that man..."

"Stop it!" the young woman exclaimed. "Stop talking as if Father was a bad man! He wasn't! He wasn't! He wasn't..." She trailed off, and a spark of sympathy flashed through the youth's eyes.

"Aya," he murmured, looking her right in the eyes. "I'm here on your mother's wish to set you on the right path." Determination shone proudly in his good eye. "I'm not going away until I do. Believe that."

And with that, the undead boy released Aya's shoulders and walked right past her and Maria, disappearing around a corner. Aya unconsciously bit her lip and looked out a nearby window, focusing on the rays of light emanated by the evening sun.

She was afraid, she realized with a start. A cold dread had taken a hold of her limbs when it finally clicked that, with the arrival of this figure from her past, she may be forced to reconsider the path she'd chosen.