A/N: This is my first time writing a story for the 'Angels of Death' section of the site, so I apologise if the first chapter comes off as a bit strange in some places. I would also like to add that I am currently experimenting with my writing style to see how well it works (which I am currently doing with a 'The Witch's House' fanfic of mine, too), so I also apologise if it looks too short and crappy. This fanfic is a little different to what most would have expected for a sequel to the original game, as it stems away from the main story and takes an original spin on things but is influenced by the original events of the game (a bit like Danganronpa's plot, if you want an example). I wanted to try exploring the idea of members of Gray's cult doing similar 'experiments' across other places with their own spin on things, to which have continued even with the downfall of Gray's. So, like I said before, although this fanfic will still follow similar elements used in the original story and 'killing game', I have tried to put original twists regarding the inhabitants, the floors, the rules of the 'game', the OCs' backstories, etc. So I do hope you give this fanfic a chance despite the odds.

Disclaimer: I do not own 'Angels of Death' or its characters; however, I do own the OCs used in this fanfic.

WARNING: SPOILERS FOR THE 'ANGELS OF DEATH' GAME, MANGA, AND ANIME ARE AHEAD. IF YOU HAVEN'T PLAYED THE GAME OR READ THE MANGA UP UNTIL ITS CURRENT TRANSLATED POINT AT LEAST, I SUGGEST DOING SO BEFORE READING THIS FANFIC.


Chapter 1: The Ignored Prisoner

Walking through the cemetery during the early evening never failed to give me the respite I desired and needed. With my left hand dug into the pocket of my pink jacket and my right one clutching tightly onto the stems of a bouquet of yellow roses, my eyes glanced back and forth between rows of gravestones of varying colours, shapes, and sizes bathed in the orange-purple glow of the setting sun, their thin shadows stretching out across the dirt path my pink buckled boots trod upon. The area was silent, with the deceased buried six-feet under being the only company I had on my trek in locating the gravestone I was in search of. Visitors to the cemetery had long since gone home by the time I arrived, which is how I usually preferred it. I at least wanted some privacy with my affairs that I couldn't get when others were here.

A light breeze started to pick up as I began to approach the end of the rows on either side of me, blowing my pink knee-length skirt and the unzipped sides of my jacket back some. I was forced to take my left hand out of my pocket when my left side-fringe and flowing blonde were raised from my forehead, the sides of my face and my upper-back, with the former two moving in front of my face and prompting me to place my left arm just before my eyes so I could see where I was going without obstruction. Despite being an annoyance for me, however, the wind did breathe life into the trees scattered around the grassy landscape, causing the leaves to dance along the branches that arched over the gravestones.

By the time the breeze began to settle, I lowered my arm back to my side and focused my gaze on the right rows of gravestones, specifically the first grave on the second from last row. I came to a stop before the black marble headstone and crouched down before instead of kneeling to avoid dirtying my legs and white socks, resting my left arm across my knees. My eyes locked with the bold, gold writing imprinted into the marble, having me read the same words I'd see every single time I came here to visit;

In loving memory of William Rivers and Lucia Rivers, who died 17th January 2016, aged 42 and 40. 'May you rest peacefully in the arms of the Lord.'

Every time I read those words I felt my stomach churn and slight nausea wash over me, prompting me to briefly close my eyes and take a deep breath in and out.

'Be respectful. You might not agree with what uncle and auntie chose for the inscription, but it's for the two people you care about. It's worth putting up with.'

I opened my eyes and leaned forward a little on my toes as I reached out the bouquet towards the bottom of the headstone, slowly placing it down on the ground just in front of it before retracting my arm and placing it across my knees with my other one.

"… Hello Mamma, Papa," I said, greeting the headstone in quiet tone as a small smile appeared on my face. "It's been a while, huh?"

I paused to allow the silence to briefly drag on in between me and the empty cemetery, my gaze once again locking with the yellow roses loosely tied together in the middle of their stems by a thin, yellow ribbon.

"I bought you your favourite flowers, Mamma. I hope you and Papa like them. I had to get you plastic ones, but at least this way they'll last forever. You don't have to worry about them wilting away."

My eyes drooped as I moved my arms so they were wrapped around my knees instead of resting across my lap, my gaze staring at the bare, grassy ground that surrounded the headstone.

"I'm sorry I never came to see you last week. Uncle wouldn't let me leave the house. He locked me in my room again and went somewhere with auntie. I don't know where they went, but they were gone for most of the day. I hope you can forgive me."

I paused as I felt another light breeze pick up the ends of my hair on its journey through the air, ruffling my clothes around a little and prompting me to tighten my grip around my knees. I knew they couldn't talk back to them, but I like to think that was a sign they were trying to offer me comfort from the grave.

Once the air began to settle, I briefly closed my eyes and let out a small sigh, opening them again and lifting my gaze to stare at the headstone in front of me once more.

"Papa, remember when you told me that we never spoke to uncle and auntie because you and Mamma thought they were acting strange ever since they chose to follow religion a little too closely? Well, I'm starting to see now why you chose to keep me away from them. They act differently around the neighbours or visitors, but with me they've gone out of their way to make me a prisoner in their own home. And it gets worse with each passing day. Auntie won't look at me or talk to me. She pretends I don't exist. And even though uncle acknowledges me, he always does so when I make a mistake. Or if he wants to criticise me for my eyes."

I loosened my arms' grip around my legs to raise one of my hands towards my face, placing my fingers on the skin just under my right eye.

"It's not like he's the first. People never look at me because I have red eyes. They always think they're unusual and bad. Uncle thinks they're especially unusual and bad because they remind him of 'the devil' and 'demons'…"

I curled my fingers towards my palm as I felt tears beginning to brim in the corners of my eyes, leaving me to gulp when I started to feel the inside of my throat drying up.

"It's not fair! You two were religious and never treated me this way! But uncle says it's okay for him to because he's only following the ways of his faith to 'purge' me!"

Moving my loose fist to rest against my chest at the dull ache that struck it, I felt the tears in my eyes loosen and start to trickle down my face, my head lowering as my shoulders trembled and my voice started to crack.

"It's only been a year, but I miss you so much. I wish you were still here with me and we were back home. I'm trying to be strong for you. I really am. But I hate being on my own. It's scary. I'd runaway if I could, but I have nowhere else to go, not even in our old house…"

Silence rang around the cemetery as I closed my eyes tight and prompted more tears to stream down my face, reaching up my other sleeve to my nose to give it a wipe after sniffling.

'I made myself promise I wouldn't cry again. But it can't be helped. Coming here is the only form of release I have. It's not like auntie and uncle don't scold me whenever they hear me cry or get upset…'

Taking a deep breath as a way of calming myself down, I moved my arm away from my nose and opened my eyes, keeping my gaze locked onto the ground out of shame to avoid looking at the grave.

"… I'm sorry. You must be so disappointed in me for giving up my faith. But it's not like anyone else is going to visit you. Uncle and auntie never cared about you, alive or dead. I'm trying to stomach this as best as I can, out of respect for you both."

Allowing the fist against my chest to drop into my lap, I dared to raise my gaze to the gravestone once more, my tears having ceased for the time being.

"I just wish I knew what happened to you that night. They still haven't found the ones responsible, and uncle and auntie aren't bothered if they do find the culprit or not. If only you could tell me… If only you could tell me what happened to you…"

I trailed off as the sound of a bell rang loudly around the area, my head turning in the direction of the church a good distance away from where I was crouched. The clock's golden hands and its roman numerals stood out boldly from the black clock face as the bell continued to ring, indicating it was now seven o'clock. With my eyes drooping in dismay, I turned to face the gravestone once more.

'And thus the bell's toll signals the end to my temporary freedom…'

Letting out a quiet sigh, I pushed myself to stand and dropped my hands back to my sides, my gaze remaining on the gravestone of my parents for a moment.

"… That's my cue to go," I mumbled, reaching up my arm to my eyes to give them a quick dab with my sleeve for any stray tears or tear stains lingering. "I'll come back to see you the usual time next week. So, until then…"

I paused to take a quick deep breath before turning to face the path of the cemetery, putting both of my hands behind my back in preparation to walk away.

"… just know that I love you, Mamma, Papa, and not a day goes by where you're not in my thoughts."


The cool early evening air and its accompanied orange-purple, cloudless sky had done little to ease my nerves as I made my walk from the cemetery and back towards the cottage that I was supposed to call 'my home'. Sticking to the grassy edges of the road that doubled as a pathway to be cautious of any cars driving by, I found my gaze wandering between the various cottages and cobbled walls that stretched in front of them. The area my uncle and auntie lived in had streets filled with houses separated by large trees and shrubbery due to being located out in the countryside, so the neighbours remained isolated from each other and given the privacy most would crave. Even so, each cottage I passed appeared warmer and more inviting than where I knew I was heading, and my chest ached with the urge to just turn around and run to one of them instead. But deep down I knew it was pointless.

I continued following the road in a straight line until I reached the last cottage on the right row with only countryside stretching past it, prompting me to come to a stop and turn my body slightly to face it. I glanced the two-floored cottage up and down, seeing the building bathed in a calming glow that made its white colouring and brown thatched roof look bright and loving. That was far from the truth, but it wasn't as if anyone who passed by would know that. It fooled oblivious people, and that's all it was supposed to do.

The moment I started walking forward onto the gravelled driveway leading towards the front door, I felt my body shaking with each step I took, with the dread I often had in the pit of my stomach returning the closer I got. I could see the faint lights inside the cottage through the two windows downstairs on either side of the front door, as well as my uncle's silver car parked off to the left of the cottage, indicating that uncle and auntie were probably sat around the dining room table listening to the radio. That did little to ease me, instead making my trembling worse as I paused before the door to the cottage. With my hands clenched into loose fists on either side of me, I closed my eyes and lowered my head a little as I took a deep breath in and out to try to ease my body's trembling. I really didn't want to go in there. I never did.

'There's no need to be scared. They don't usually pay much attention to you anyway unless necessary. If you're quiet enough, they won't even know you're there.'

That reminder did little to reassure me, prompting my eyes to open and my gaze to lock with my boots. My hands uncurled and reached up to grip at the sides of my unzipped jacket covering my white t-shirt, pulling it further around my body to try to calm myself even if I wasn't cold. I knew I hadn't done anything wrong which would make them seriously angry with me, but I knew they wouldn't be happy with me for having left earlier today without telling them again.

'Maybe I don't have to go in there. I could just turn around and run away. They would be none the wiser!' I paused to huff and shake my head soon after saying this, knowing just how stupid my idea sounded. 'Who am I kidding? I don't have a lot of belongings, but there are things in there that I'd want to take with me. And I don't have any money on me. If I tried to sneak around and prepare myself to run away, they'd catch on easily.'

I dared to raise my gaze once more and stare at the plain brown door still closed in front of me, my eyes locking onto the long, silver handle glistening in the rays of the setting sun. The grip on my jacket tightened, but it quickly loosened when I scowled and raised my right hand.

'… No more hesitating. The longer I wait, the worse it's going to get.'

I slowly stretched my hand towards the door handle, watching it violently tremble all the while. But that didn't stop me from gripping it and pushing it down little by little to avoid making any loud noise. I knew that if I backed down now, I wouldn't go inside of my own will.

I flinched upon hearing the click once the handle had dropped all the way, but still pushed my force against the door to open it really slow. I took a step inside into the darkened room when the gap was large enough for me to slip through, hearing a deep and static like voice the moment I did so.

"In other news, authorities in the US are investigating the possible involvement of an unidentified cult in a building fire that happened over a week ago. Reports state that around 12:03am on Saturday 18th January, police and firefighters were called to the area after witnesses reported seeing a building going up in flames with an injured girl and a suspicious-looking adult male lingering around outside."

Using my left hand I pushed the door to after properly stepping inside and continued to listen to the newsman speaking on the radio, prompting me to twitch when I heard it click for a second time as it made contact with the doorframe.

"The girl was identified as 13-year-old 'Rachel Gardner', who had previously vanished in connection with the Gardner Homicide case, and was taken to hospital and later placed into protective custody. The man, who was identified as 20-year-old serial killer 'Isaac Foster', was arrested and taken into police custody at the scene under charges of kidnapping Rachel Gardner, as well as the many murders police believe he has been linked to over recent years."

Through the darkness I turned my gaze towards the left side of the cottage, where the faint light of a candle was placed in the middle of the rectangle dining room table. In the dim lighting I could make out the outlines of my uncle and auntie sat on either side of the table with the portable wooden radio in between them. Uncle - with his short, wavy black hair - had his arms folded across the table with his cold brown eyes locked onto the radio, whilst auntie – with her ear-length brunette hair – kept her dull blue eyes focused on the surface of the table, her hands clasped together on top of its surface. They appeared to be paying close attention to the news report over the radio, meaning there was a chance I could sneak on by without them realising I had entered.

I turned my gaze towards the stairs leading to the second floor just past the dining table from where it went along the left wall, prompting me to tip-toe one step at a time across the tiled floor when the reporter continued talking in the direction of the empty area behind where my uncle was sat. There was a wide, red and white circle-patterned rectangle-shaped rug under the dining table that covered part of the floor, so I knew I would be able to use it to muffle my footsteps as I made to sneak on by.

"Recent police investigations into the remnants of the building have found the charred corpse of a man who authorities are unable to identify, as well as evidence to suggest the building's fire was caused by an explosion on its lowest floor which resulted in its collapse. Despite this hampering further progress into its investigation, police believe the building's owner 'Abraham Gray', who has been missing since allegations were made regarding his involvement with an unidentified cult, may be responsible for its collapse and suspicious activities that were suspected to be taking place inside. US authorities have urged the public to be on the lookout for this man and anyone who could be associated with him-"

I found myself freezing in place in line with the back of my uncle's chair when he reached out a hand to switch the radio off, my eyes being quick to glance towards the long, purple sleeve of his shirt stretched in my view-line. I stayed still despite feeling my heart thudding hard against my ribcage, slowly reaching a hand up to my forehead at the sweat starting to gather across my brow. It didn't take a genius to know that the gig was up; he knew I was here.

"… Come here, Lona," My uncle said after a moment of silence had passed, his tone dangerously calm.

I took this moment to mentally prepare myself, taking a deep breath in and out to steady my nerves and putting on a straight face before turning and walking towards the left side of my uncle's chair. If there was one thing that terrified me the most about my uncle at times like this, it was the fact he never raised his voice when he was angry with me. I didn't like how composed and collected he was whenever I did something wrong and he lectured me. It was like there was a hidden motive behind it.

My gaze briefly crossed with my auntie when I was stood beside my uncle's chair, who I noticed had chosen to keep her eyes on the table and not move from her current position. She was pretending I didn't exist again and making the effort to prevent us from making eye contact. At least her actions and behaviour weren't any different than the usual.

When I saw my uncle shift his body to face me out of the corner of my eye, I focused my gaze back towards him. He was a foot taller than me, so being sat down made it easier for him to speak to me close to eye level. The two of us were silent as we stared into each other's neutral gazes, neither of us giving away what the other was thinking. The longer we stared at each other the more uncomfortable I became, prompting me to stand up a little straighter and put my hands behind my back. I suspected he was taking a moment to scrutinise me appearance-wise.

"… Where have you been?" he eventually asked.

I was always tempted to lie, but even I knew my uncle could see through my mask no matter how hard I tried. He was an observant man.

"… The cemetery," I mumbled, prompting my uncle to raise his brows.

"What did you say?"

I knew he was asking the question as if to challenge me on my actions, but it didn't stop me from turning my head away slightly and repeating my answer in a quieter voice than before out of fear. I always struggled to talk properly in the presence of my uncle. My fear had a nasty hold over me.

"… The cemetery."

"Are you mumbling, Lona?"

I didn't answer, causing me to catch him scowling and placing his hands on the thighs of his black trousers out of the corner of my eyes.

"What have I told you about mumbling?"

Clasping my hands together behind me, I kept my eyes focused on the floor rather than on his face as I tried to fix the volume of my voice, clearing my throat before attempting to speak again.

"… That mumbling is rude."

"And are you rude, Lona?"

"… No, sir."

"Then I will ask again; where have you been?"

I swallowed quietly as a way of suppressing my fear, focusing my gaze back on him to avoid any further criticism on his behalf. I honestly wish he would yell at me instead of being so calm all the time. It saves me having to guess his current mood regarding my actions and words.

"… The cemetery, sir."

Nodding his head out of satisfaction at finally getting a clear answer out of me, my uncle proceeded to deepen his scowl.

"What have I told you about leaving the cottage, Lona?"

I tightened the grip on my hands to a point where I could feel my fingers hurting from the strain, using it as a coping mechanism to avoid putting myself out of place. It wasn't unnatural for my uncle to bombard me with a list of questions and expect me to answer them as bluntly as possible, but that didn't mean I didn't find it irritating, especially since I often repeated myself or had the urge to talk back.

"… That I need your permission."

"And did you ask for permission to go to the cemetery?"

"… No, sir."

"Why not, Lona?"

My fingers twitched as I continued to suppress the urge to answer back, my jaw clenching as I made the decision not to answer him for the moment. This did not go well with my uncle, who narrowed his eyes my way after a few seconds of silence had passed between us.

"… Why didn't you ask for permission, Lona? I want an answer out of you."

And still I refused to speak. I bit the inside of my lip to prevent myself from doing so, with the urge to vocalise my bitter response being on the tip of my tongue. I knew exactly why he wouldn't have given me permission to go to the cemetery, and I was aware that regardless of whether I spoke the reason or not, his reaction towards me would be bad either way. That was something I had learnt in the past year I had been forced to spend with uncle and auntie under their care.

When my silence stretched out even further, the sight of my uncle clenching his hands into fists against his thighs was enough indication for me to take two steps back away from his chair. Seconds after doing so, my eyes widened in alarm when my uncle stood from his seat too quickly for my liking, the force of his movements tipping his chair over onto the floor on its back with a loud thud. My terrified eyes stared up into his fiery brown as he towered over me, his fists lingering at his sides.

"Answer me, Lona."

Feeling beads of sweat beginning to trickle down the sides of my face, I clenched my jaw despite the pain I was causing by biting down on the inside skin of my lip, turning my gaze down to my boots once more to avoid making eye contact. It didn't matter how many times my uncle was prepared to demand an answer out of me. I refused to give it to him.

After another round of silence followed, a pair of hands roughly gripping at my shoulders caused them to stiffen from surprise, my gaze raising to see my uncle leaning over me. His eyes had become as dull as my auntie's, his voice low and quiet.

"Do you know why your parents died, Lona?"

The question prompted my eyes to droop out of dismay, my shoulders slumping under his hold. I knew what was coming. I was given this lecture on a frequent basis.

'… Here we go. He's going to preach to me again.'

Despite knowing what he was going to say to me, I still decided to respond the way I always did just to humour him.

"… Because they were killed."

"Yes. And do you know why they were killed, Lona?"

'I wish I did…'

"… No, sir."

"Because it was karma against God."

My eyes remained locked onto my uncle's as he leaned forward and lifted his hands from my shoulders, stopping once our faces were nose-length apart. He placed both of his hands on either side of my face, with his thumbs touching the skin just underneath my eyes.

"Your father was an insolent man, and he's clearly passed that insolence onto you. He was wrong to ignore my warnings about you and cut off contact for all those years. He should have known from the moment you were born that you were the equivalent to a demon-spawn. Your pupils practically spell it."

I showed no reaction to my uncle's words or actions, even when I felt him pull slightly at my bottom eyelids.

"Whatever happened to them that night was surely tragic, but it was a fate brought upon them by their obliviousness of how wrong they've raised you. You being brought to your aunt and I was part of God's will, I believe, and you should be grateful for it. We're trying to undo the wickedness your parents let you bask in and make you desirable in the eyes of the Lord. But in order to do that you need to be more co-operative. Does that make sense, Lona?"

I felt my fingers twitch behind my back as I loosened the grip they had on either hand some, but other than that I succeeded in showing no other visible reaction to my uncle's words except with a stiff nod.

"… Yes, sir."

With my uncle's eyes finally relaxing, he stood up straight again and took his hands away from my face, returning them to his sides.

"Very good. So, let me ask you one more time, Lona; why didn't you ask permission to go to the cemetery?"

Keeping my gaze locked with his, I unclasped my hands and returned them to my sides, deciding to just come clean and get this exchange over and done with. I was dying to get away from my uncle at this point.

"… Because you would have said 'no'."

"And why would I have said 'no'?"

I turned my eyes down towards the floor and closed my eyes, letting out a quiet sigh as mental preparation for the words I was reluctantly about to roll off my tongue.

"… Because my parents were 'sinners'," I answered, gulping seconds later at feeling sudden nausea wash over me.

"Exactly. And by disobeying me continuously and going to see them anyway, that also makes you a sinner too, doesn't it?"

I could feel my stomach twisting into knots at what I was forcing myself to say, but I knew I didn't have much choice if I wanted to feel the wrath of my uncle past what I'd already seen of him. Balling my hands into fists at my sides, I opened my eyes and responded in the clearest voice I could muster.

"… It does."

"And do you know what happens to sinful children who are disobedient?"

Lifting my head to look my uncle in the eyes once more, I relaxed my hands and answered him again with relief washing over me in place of my former nausea. The conversation was finally nearing its end, allowing me to get away from my uncle's patronising for the rest of the night.

"… They get sent to the attic without dinner?"

"They do," he replied, taking a step back and sitting down on the chair again after picking it up from the floor and setting it upright.

Upon making himself comfortable, he raised a hand and used the 'shooing' gesture. "Now, off you go, Lona."

"… Yes, sir."

Seconds after giving my prompt response, I was quick to turn away from my uncle and face the stairs, walking forward towards them without any hesitation. He didn't speak to me again and I didn't speak to him or look back as I rounded the side of the stairs and walked up them towards the second floor of the cottage. I kept my gaze fixed ahead the whole time, not daring to glance over the side to view my relatives from the stairs. I didn't like staying in the attic and using it as my permanent bedroom, given its box-like space. But it was the only time I got to escape from my uncle and auntie, so I was glad to take it over spending time with them any day.

As I reached the top of the stairs and turned towards the first door off to the right of the narrow hallway, I heard the click of the radio being turned back on (most likely at the hands of my uncle), followed by the sound of orchestra music beginning to overpower the silence of the cottage. That was enough of a signal to prove to me that my uncle had officially switched his focus away from me for the time being, which both relieved me and saddened me with the reminder of the reality I was currently living.

With my eyes drooping, I continued towards the closest door and reached out my hand to grip the handle, only closing them when I pushed it down and heard the creak of the door opening.

'And once again I become the ignored prisoner.'