Surviving

By Woman of Letters

A/N This was a response to Challenge #1 from the FICWISE Writing Group. The assignment was to write a character sketch of 300 – 1000 words based on a descriptive word. I picked the word "guilty" and my character sketch became a four-chapter story.

Warning: Extremely angsty; triggers for depression; tendencies towards suicide in this story. If you are seriously depressed, do not read this story. It deals with a very traumatic topic – the effects of possession on the one possessed.

Tag to Season 3 Episode 16: No Rest for the Wicked. Several chapters of this story contain dialogue from that episode. I decided Freckles was the girl's brother. It was a nickname. It could have been a cat but I picked the darker option.

Chapter 1: Play

She still sees it on her hands.

The blood.

The blood of her brother.

It doesn't help that she was powerless at the time, trapped inside her body, and that bitch Lilith was in control. Ten years later, she still remembers. How her little brother, the one she thought was so annoying, the two-year-old with those freckles across his cheek that made everyone think he was so cute, the one who always broke into her games, distracted her friends, the one she was secretly jealous of. (How could a little boy be so cute and yet grate on your nerves at the same time?)

Still... he had his moments.

But all she remembers now is the look in his eyes when she cut his throat and watched him choke on his own blood.

The disbelief.

The fear.

The horror.

The accusation.

No! she screamed at Lilith, but of course no one heard. And the demoness just laughed.

"Didn't you tell him you wished he would die, little one? I'm doing you a favor."

When she was forced to fingerpaint with her own brother's blood, wearing a maniacal grin on her face, she realized the truth.

She loved her baby brother.

But by then, it was too late to tell him.

Now, ten years later, she still remembers his sweet face. She still loves him. And she still blames herself.

And she keeps seeing that last look in his eyes, sharp as the dagger she used to cut his throat. The look that said, How could you?

Ten years later, she still has no answer.