p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"strongspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Songs to go with chapter:/span/strong/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"strongspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Most of us Are Strangers - Seafret (Acoustic)/span/strong/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"strongspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"October/span/strong/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"The sky was dark, a charcoal grey filtered through yellow as land closed in – not fully black as it was lit up from below by the mass amounts of buildings that littered the earth. The wind howled through the tunnel that the buildings lining the street made, moving towards the next crossroad. Leaves tumbled along, catching on objects as though they wanted to hold on, only to be ripped away again with the next gust. Bare amounts of orange and reds showed on the neatly planted trees. The weather was finally starting to cool down from a scorching summer to a mild autumn; while the days were still warm, the nights were cold. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Stepping around the corner, a man pulled his hood up to try and ward off the chilling wind that assaulted him. Glancing around quickly, the only movement were those of the trees and people looking down between their curtains, glaring disapprovingly at the night owl habits of the youth. Crossing his arms to try and conserve body heat, he looked up at the sky for a moment, squinting like he was trying to see the stars. He looks down once more and speeds up. He could smell the rain in the air, see the clouds starting to close in, soon it would pour down on the cement forest where he lived./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"New York City was not a place known for being quiet, nor was it a place known for being dark. The substantial population meant there was always at least one person awake (though more than likely, thousands awake); and in turn, a substantial amount of light coming out of the windows of people's homes to bring the world below. The man was jealous of the people who were sitting in their homes in the apartments that towered above, watching television or sleeping, not a care in the world about what was happening on the street below./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Yet, the night was quiet. The street was empty, all the people seeming to have disappeared. The howling of the wind was his only company, his phone having died hours before. It was even darker than usual. Looking up, it felt as though instead of being awake, the lights had decided to sleep. emThe howl is a growl, the city is getting ready for its winter rest/em, he mused. Even as he likened the odd night to a bear's annual hibernation, he knew it was a coincidence. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"It wasn't anywhere near winter yet. Only the first week of October. The leaves were just beginning to fall. The howl sped up for a moment to whistle, one of the leaves caught on his arm. Red with tinges of brown. Dying but still alive. As he flicked it away, flashbacks to his childhood ran through his mind. Jumping into the piles of leaves that his parents would rake up, letting them fly up into the air and his father's stern voice that would melt away to laughter as the rosy cheeked smile would look up at him. Throwing leaves with friends in the school yard and running away as the teachers yelled. Jumping into puddles that the rain would leave behind, soaking his runners through but not caring that he had to have wet socks all day./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"The days of childhood wonder were over. Cement now had more prevalence to wildlife. He couldn't remember the last time he smelt freshly cut grass or dirt freshly soaked from the rain. This was a world where the closest thing to a wild animal that people saw were the squirrels in Central Park, raccoons rummaging through trash left about the city, or pigeons following people around begging for scraps./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"As he was about to turn the next corner to continue on his way towards the subway, a shadow lying in the bushes at the edge of the small park stopped him. Looking around, he saw that there was no one. A couple blocks down he could see the faint light from a car, the red lights lightening up as they slowed. He started to continue walking but looked up at the sky and took another deep breath. It was getting darker, the clouds taking over and creating a mist effect as they reflected and swallowed the light. Glancing back at the bushes, he sighed and quickly jogged across the street./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""What're you doing man." He mumbled to himself as he got closer to the bushes. A person was laying there, loosely curled up with their back towards the street. The man figured they were homeless, using the leaves of the bushes as cover for when it started to rain. He remembered from his cubs that leaves were good insolation, but they weren't waterproof. "Hey man." He yelled out as he got closer. Stepping onto the sidewalk, he heard a car drive by behind him, the headlights briefly lighting up the area before it went dark again. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""It's gonna rain, you're gonna want to go somewhere dry." The figure never moved. The man wondered how he had seen them in the first place, the jacket was on them was dark, blending into the ground. The leaves helped obscure them, leaving them almost invisible to the street. "Dude, get up." The figure moved stiffly, but only to roll in on themselves instead of out. It reminded him of his sister when they were children, curling in on herself in the dead of night after they watched films that they knew their parents would never be okay with. Neither wanted to get in trouble, so they'd sit in fear together instead of asking for help. "Fine. Whatever. Don't blame me when ya get soaked."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"He turned and started to walk away again. His foot half off of the sidewalk before he huffed, "this is what I get for trying to be nice." A drop of rain fell from the sky. He knew his chances of getting to the station before then were slim now. He shivered as the wind picked up. The rain was starting to pick up, and some drops flew sharply into his eyes. Rubbing them he stomped over to the figure and grabbed their shoulder, "Hey man, I'm just tryin…"/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"The rest of his sentence never made it out. Just as the clouds opened and the rain slammed down on them, the figure easily rolled over towards him. Only, it wasn't what he expected. Instead of someone homeless, just trying to stay out of the rain, it was a man with maggots crawling out of a hole on his forehead. The man fell to the ground and tried to back away, just as a piece of skin fell off with the battering of the rain. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" -/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Laughter filled the air, as fresh sounding as the air was to breath. He heard the ocean in the background, the swaying of the waves as they moved in and out. Opening his eyes, he lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the bright blue above him. Only one fluffy cloud was in the sky, moving lazily because it has nowhere to go./span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Malcolm!" Moving his head, he watched as Ainsley ran across the sand towards him. It flew out behind her like road runner, nothing could stand in her way. Her golden blonde hair was lighter than when he last saw it, the curls tighter. Her skin glowed under the bright sun, hazel eyes sparkling. Moving slightly so he could see around her, he saw the distant figures of his parents walking up the beach, hand in hand. /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"He couldn't remember the last time they'd been there, the house in the Caribbean. The air was salty from the ocean, but still had the sweet smell of the fruit that hung from trees. They all loved it there. The fresh air was good for them, their father said. It was the one place where they were a family away from nanny, away from New York City and the hospital and the galas. Ainsley didn't have horseback riding lessons here twice a week, and he didn't have ballet. /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""You need to come and play!" She yelled over at him; her voice being carried away by the wind that wasn't really there. Ainsley reached her hand out, but didn't move forward anymore, simply smiled at him. It took him a moment to realize she wasn't blinking anymore, but instead frozen in time like a wax figure. /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Behind her, her saw his parents walking. Even faceless, he knew they were. From the dark hair, the dress his mother wore which wasn't beach safe, the wild curls on his father's head. There was another person with them though. This one was smaller, hair lighter than his parents but as curly as his fathers. She was running ahead, splashing as the waves hit the sand under her feet. /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Be careful!" He heard the distant sound of his mother's voice. It was lighter, carefree, as though she was simply saying the words because she knew they were expected and not because she actually worried. He watched the figure of his father, still faceless, run towards the girl and lift her up over his shoulder, tinkling laughter spreading out over the beach./span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Malcolm, come play!" He turned his head, and suddenly it wasn't the sound of waves but birds, the buzzing sound of multiple people talking at once. There was grass by his face, tickling his ears. Trees lined the distance, along with a colourful playground erected out from the cement and greenery. "Malcolm!" The voice whined. /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"He turned his head once more; this time Ainsley was there but older. No longer a baby faced five-year-old, but nine years old and looking completely annoyed. Tapping her foot in a way that he had seen their mother do many times. Beside her was the same curly haired girl, cobalt blue eyes staring at him like an owl. "It's your turn, I'm tired of the swings. They're for babies." Ainsley complained./span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Will you play?" The voice was soft, questioning. He shook his head, picking up the book he had beside him. The heavy tomb was about Einstein, a book he had managed to save from his mother's burn pile, years before when he was full of misery and regret./span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"She still was./span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Malcolm, Malcolm please." Tears were in her voice. A drop of rain fell into his eye, causing him to flinch as the blue above quickly turned to black. Wiping it away and looking down, he was horrified to see that it wasn't rain. Turning back, he saw Ainsley still standing there, silver knife in her hand blood splatter everywhere. The sky continued to pour blood, soaking up the world around them with the sins of their father. Beside the shocked girl, eyes wide as she stared down at her hand, was a white teddy bear with a single drop of blood. /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Then there was screaming./span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"His screaming. Malcolm sat up panting, spitting the mouth guard down onto the bed beside him. The girl in the box has disappeared in the past few months, and he had hoped that she would leave behind peaceful sleep but instead his subconscious had other plans. It was a fascinating theory, facing one's demons. He remembered being told once that he should face what caused him pain, taking away the power from the object would take away the fear. Yet, it never worked in the way that it was planned to./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Yes, facing the demons may take away the pain in that moment, but what about the residual trauma that followed that moment? The girl in the box was gone, at least for now, Sophie Sanders still free in the world. But what would happen when his brain decided that the girl in the box was to be back, not Sophie Sanders but the idea of the girl that he had for twenty years. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"A new dream was occurring though. A dream he hadn't had for years yet seemed to be coming back with a vengeance and a twist. For years only small snippets of this dream came through, guilt surrounding the date and the deterioration of his mother around it. They were always at the park, she always wanted him to play, then she was always gone. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Throughout the years, his mother had tried to reassure him that it was not his fault. Not his fault that she had disappeared, just like it was not his fault that his father was a serial killer. When waiting for the police to stop talking to his mother and the nanny that day, a passerby said that sometimes the world worked in mysterious ways and that it would always work itself out. He remembered Jackie screaming at them after, as she stood there with a hand protectively on his shoulder and holding Ainsley's hand, the girl protesting that she was too old for that. His faintly remembered Gil rushing over, his mother close behind with glossy eyes. From there it was fuzzy, another piece of his life that was shut behind walls to protect him from himself./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"No matter what, Malcolm felt as though it was his fault. If that autumn he had given in and played with his sister, no matter if the game of going up and down the slide a hundred times was boring and dizzying. Nobody really knew what happened that day. Ainsley said she had stopped for a moment, turned towards a friend, but when she looked back, the girl was gone. While he could no longer see the image, he could hear his father telling him on Ainsley's first day of school that siblings stuck together. Yet, on that day they hadn't and paid the price./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Malcolm wanted to chalk up the reassurance of the memory to the trauma surrounding Nicholas Endicott. Plus, his father's phone calls – ones asking about his sister, about him, about what she'd done. He figured that the memory was also brought up by the fact that he'd gone to the empty grave the day before with his sister – a day trip – to bring some flowers that they couldn't in the summer because of the virus running wild. Looking over at the clock, he sighed. It was only three, but Malcolm knew he wasn't going to fall back asleep again tonight./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"He got out of bed, stretched, then headed to the kitchen to boil the kettle. He knew he wouldn't get through this without coffee, even though it wasn't the drug of his choice nor did he particularly like it. Once it whistled and he had the grinder sitting in the French press, he went and sat down on his frankly uncomfortable couch. He winced, wishing that he hadn't let his mother decorate the loft anyway she saw fit while he had been in DC. The looked across the room, the blank television sitting between the two cases of medieval weaponry the rest of his family hated. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Laying his head back, he wondered how he had gotten to this place. How the world had decided he was the one to have a serial killer as a father, to have a missing – probably dead – sister, another sister who was hellbent on proving she was better than he was, to being plagued by the demons that weren't even his to begin with. emIt's all so fucked up/em, he declared to himself as the timer he had sent started to ring. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Slowly he got up, letting the irritating clamor help wake up his sluggish brain as he moved towards the kitchen and pressed the top of the French press down, letting the grinds and beans be filtered away from the rest of his bitter beverage. A small part of him wanted to see if somebody was up, somebody would talk to him. He could grab his phone, text someone. Gil would wake up for him, but he knew the man had just left the hospital and way staying with his mother; and Malcolm definitely didn't feel up to that intense of questioning at this hour. He debated Ainsley but decided that this was something he didn't want to worry her with. Dani Maybe? Malcolm didn't want to annoy her, seem needy when their friendship was finally on the mend from the mess this spring. There was no way he was calling JT, who would probably just send him to voice mail anyway. His last option was Edrisa, but as much as he liked the strange conversations they had, they weren't close enough for a post night terror three in the morning chat. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"He leaned over the counter; head bowed in defeat that maybe this would finally get to him. Finally, free of the girl in the box and the first memory that hits him is the one that causes him to break. He was debating going to channel surf, when the air was suddenly filled with the shrill ringing of his phone across the room. It was sitting beside his bed, and unless his father had suddenly gotten middle of the night phone privileges, which Malcolm high doubted as he barely had normal phone privileges back, the phone call was just what he needed./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Malcolm quickly crossed the room and glanced outside. The lights on the building across the street weren't on, but there was someone who seemed to be standing in a streetlight staring up at them, before turning and walking. Filing that away in his head for later, he picked up the phone and swiped across the screen. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Hello?"/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Sorry to wake you, we have a case." He hadn't realized Dani was on call, but it must have been bad for her to be awake already. The tension in his jaw seemed to disappear as the words came out and sunk in. The calm before the metaphoric storm. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Okay, I'll call a cab."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Don't bother, on my way to grab you. Get dressed. Bring coffee."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"The phone clicked, and he turned it off before looking out the window once more at the desolate street below. It may have been unconventional, but murder truly was the only thing that kept him sane./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"strongspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"A/N: Hello! All songs put at the beginning of the chapters are ones that either influenced the chapter, I found well writing the chapter and felt right for it, or simply have lyrics that go with it. I don't own these songs, as you're probably aware of. I also don't own Prodigal Son (if there was any thoughts that I did, which I hope there wasn't). I am cross posting this from Ao3, not sure why but felt like it was a good idea. So, please enjoy. /spanspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"If you've had publication alerts on me for all these years, welcome back to a new story! Unfortunately, I won't be updating any of my old stories. I no longer have motivation or even know what the plot line was (if there was one). So welcome to Prodigal Son!/spanspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/strong/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"strongspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Most of us Are Strangers - Seafret (Acoustic)/span/strong/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"strongspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"October/span/strong/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"The sky was dark, a charcoal grey filtered through yellow as land closed in – not fully black as it was lit up from below by the mass amounts of buildings that littered the earth. The wind howled through the tunnel that the buildings lining the street made, moving towards the next crossroad. Leaves tumbled along, catching on objects as though they wanted to hold on, only to be ripped away again with the next gust. Bare amounts of orange and reds showed on the neatly planted trees. The weather was finally starting to cool down from a scorching summer to a mild autumn; while the days were still warm, the nights were cold. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Stepping around the corner, a man pulled his hood up to try and ward off the chilling wind that assaulted him. Glancing around quickly, the only movement were those of the trees and people looking down between their curtains, glaring disapprovingly at the night owl habits of the youth. Crossing his arms to try and conserve body heat, he looked up at the sky for a moment, squinting like he was trying to see the stars. He looks down once more and speeds up. He could smell the rain in the air, see the clouds starting to close in, soon it would pour down on the cement forest where he lived./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"New York City was not a place known for being quiet, nor was it a place known for being dark. The substantial population meant there was always at least one person awake (though more than likely, thousands awake); and in turn, a substantial amount of light coming out of the windows of people's homes to bring the world below. The man was jealous of the people who were sitting in their homes in the apartments that towered above, watching television or sleeping, not a care in the world about what was happening on the street below./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Yet, the night was quiet. The street was empty, all the people seeming to have disappeared. The howling of the wind was his only company, his phone having died hours before. It was even darker than usual. Looking up, it felt as though instead of being awake, the lights had decided to sleep. emThe howl is a growl, the city is getting ready for its winter rest/em, he mused. Even as he likened the odd night to a bear's annual hibernation, he knew it was a coincidence. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"It wasn't anywhere near winter yet. Only the first week of October. The leaves were just beginning to fall. The howl sped up for a moment to whistle, one of the leaves caught on his arm. Red with tinges of brown. Dying but still alive. As he flicked it away, flashbacks to his childhood ran through his mind. Jumping into the piles of leaves that his parents would rake up, letting them fly up into the air and his father's stern voice that would melt away to laughter as the rosy cheeked smile would look up at him. Throwing leaves with friends in the school yard and running away as the teachers yelled. Jumping into puddles that the rain would leave behind, soaking his runners through but not caring that he had to have wet socks all day./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"The days of childhood wonder were over. Cement now had more prevalence to wildlife. He couldn't remember the last time he smelt freshly cut grass or dirt freshly soaked from the rain. This was a world where the closest thing to a wild animal that people saw were the squirrels in Central Park, raccoons rummaging through trash left about the city, or pigeons following people around begging for scraps./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"As he was about to turn the next corner to continue on his way towards the subway, a shadow lying in the bushes at the edge of the small park stopped him. Looking around, he saw that there was no one. A couple blocks down he could see the faint light from a car, the red lights lightening up as they slowed. He started to continue walking but looked up at the sky and took another deep breath. It was getting darker, the clouds taking over and creating a mist effect as they reflected and swallowed the light. Glancing back at the bushes, he sighed and quickly jogged across the street./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""What're you doing man." He mumbled to himself as he got closer to the bushes. A person was laying there, loosely curled up with their back towards the street. The man figured they were homeless, using the leaves of the bushes as cover for when it started to rain. He remembered from his cubs that leaves were good insolation, but they weren't waterproof. "Hey man." He yelled out as he got closer. Stepping onto the sidewalk, he heard a car drive by behind him, the headlights briefly lighting up the area before it went dark again. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""It's gonna rain, you're gonna want to go somewhere dry." The figure never moved. The man wondered how he had seen them in the first place, the jacket was on them was dark, blending into the ground. The leaves helped obscure them, leaving them almost invisible to the street. "Dude, get up." The figure moved stiffly, but only to roll in on themselves instead of out. It reminded him of his sister when they were children, curling in on herself in the dead of night after they watched films that they knew their parents would never be okay with. Neither wanted to get in trouble, so they'd sit in fear together instead of asking for help. "Fine. Whatever. Don't blame me when ya get soaked."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"He turned and started to walk away again. His foot half off of the sidewalk before he huffed, "this is what I get for trying to be nice." A drop of rain fell from the sky. He knew his chances of getting to the station before then were slim now. He shivered as the wind picked up. The rain was starting to pick up, and some drops flew sharply into his eyes. Rubbing them he stomped over to the figure and grabbed their shoulder, "Hey man, I'm just tryin…"/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"The rest of his sentence never made it out. Just as the clouds opened and the rain slammed down on them, the figure easily rolled over towards him. Only, it wasn't what he expected. Instead of someone homeless, just trying to stay out of the rain, it was a man with maggots crawling out of a hole on his forehead. The man fell to the ground and tried to back away, just as a piece of skin fell off with the battering of the rain. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" -/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Laughter filled the air, as fresh sounding as the air was to breath. He heard the ocean in the background, the swaying of the waves as they moved in and out. Opening his eyes, he lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the bright blue above him. Only one fluffy cloud was in the sky, moving lazily because it has nowhere to go./span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Malcolm!" Moving his head, he watched as Ainsley ran across the sand towards him. It flew out behind her like road runner, nothing could stand in her way. Her golden blonde hair was lighter than when he last saw it, the curls tighter. Her skin glowed under the bright sun, hazel eyes sparkling. Moving slightly so he could see around her, he saw the distant figures of his parents walking up the beach, hand in hand. /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"He couldn't remember the last time they'd been there, the house in the Caribbean. The air was salty from the ocean, but still had the sweet smell of the fruit that hung from trees. They all loved it there. The fresh air was good for them, their father said. It was the one place where they were a family away from nanny, away from New York City and the hospital and the galas. Ainsley didn't have horseback riding lessons here twice a week, and he didn't have ballet. /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""You need to come and play!" She yelled over at him; her voice being carried away by the wind that wasn't really there. Ainsley reached her hand out, but didn't move forward anymore, simply smiled at him. It took him a moment to realize she wasn't blinking anymore, but instead frozen in time like a wax figure. /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Behind her, her saw his parents walking. Even faceless, he knew they were. From the dark hair, the dress his mother wore which wasn't beach safe, the wild curls on his father's head. There was another person with them though. This one was smaller, hair lighter than his parents but as curly as his fathers. She was running ahead, splashing as the waves hit the sand under her feet. /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Be careful!" He heard the distant sound of his mother's voice. It was lighter, carefree, as though she was simply saying the words because she knew they were expected and not because she actually worried. He watched the figure of his father, still faceless, run towards the girl and lift her up over his shoulder, tinkling laughter spreading out over the beach./span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Malcolm, come play!" He turned his head, and suddenly it wasn't the sound of waves but birds, the buzzing sound of multiple people talking at once. There was grass by his face, tickling his ears. Trees lined the distance, along with a colourful playground erected out from the cement and greenery. "Malcolm!" The voice whined. /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"He turned his head once more; this time Ainsley was there but older. No longer a baby faced five-year-old, but nine years old and looking completely annoyed. Tapping her foot in a way that he had seen their mother do many times. Beside her was the same curly haired girl, cobalt blue eyes staring at him like an owl. "It's your turn, I'm tired of the swings. They're for babies." Ainsley complained./span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Will you play?" The voice was soft, questioning. He shook his head, picking up the book he had beside him. The heavy tomb was about Einstein, a book he had managed to save from his mother's burn pile, years before when he was full of misery and regret./span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"She still was./span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Malcolm, Malcolm please." Tears were in her voice. A drop of rain fell into his eye, causing him to flinch as the blue above quickly turned to black. Wiping it away and looking down, he was horrified to see that it wasn't rain. Turning back, he saw Ainsley still standing there, silver knife in her hand blood splatter everywhere. The sky continued to pour blood, soaking up the world around them with the sins of their father. Beside the shocked girl, eyes wide as she stared down at her hand, was a white teddy bear with a single drop of blood. /span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"emspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Then there was screaming./span/em/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"His screaming. Malcolm sat up panting, spitting the mouth guard down onto the bed beside him. The girl in the box has disappeared in the past few months, and he had hoped that she would leave behind peaceful sleep but instead his subconscious had other plans. It was a fascinating theory, facing one's demons. He remembered being told once that he should face what caused him pain, taking away the power from the object would take away the fear. Yet, it never worked in the way that it was planned to./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Yes, facing the demons may take away the pain in that moment, but what about the residual trauma that followed that moment? The girl in the box was gone, at least for now, Sophie Sanders still free in the world. But what would happen when his brain decided that the girl in the box was to be back, not Sophie Sanders but the idea of the girl that he had for twenty years. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"A new dream was occurring though. A dream he hadn't had for years yet seemed to be coming back with a vengeance and a twist. For years only small snippets of this dream came through, guilt surrounding the date and the deterioration of his mother around it. They were always at the park, she always wanted him to play, then she was always gone. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Throughout the years, his mother had tried to reassure him that it was not his fault. Not his fault that she had disappeared, just like it was not his fault that his father was a serial killer. When waiting for the police to stop talking to his mother and the nanny that day, a passerby said that sometimes the world worked in mysterious ways and that it would always work itself out. He remembered Jackie screaming at them after, as she stood there with a hand protectively on his shoulder and holding Ainsley's hand, the girl protesting that she was too old for that. His faintly remembered Gil rushing over, his mother close behind with glossy eyes. From there it was fuzzy, another piece of his life that was shut behind walls to protect him from himself./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"No matter what, Malcolm felt as though it was his fault. If that autumn he had given in and played with his sister, no matter if the game of going up and down the slide a hundred times was boring and dizzying. Nobody really knew what happened that day. Ainsley said she had stopped for a moment, turned towards a friend, but when she looked back, the girl was gone. While he could no longer see the image, he could hear his father telling him on Ainsley's first day of school that siblings stuck together. Yet, on that day they hadn't and paid the price./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Malcolm wanted to chalk up the reassurance of the memory to the trauma surrounding Nicholas Endicott. Plus, his father's phone calls – ones asking about his sister, about him, about what she'd done. He figured that the memory was also brought up by the fact that he'd gone to the empty grave the day before with his sister – a day trip – to bring some flowers that they couldn't in the summer because of the virus running wild. Looking over at the clock, he sighed. It was only three, but Malcolm knew he wasn't going to fall back asleep again tonight./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"He got out of bed, stretched, then headed to the kitchen to boil the kettle. He knew he wouldn't get through this without coffee, even though it wasn't the drug of his choice nor did he particularly like it. Once it whistled and he had the grinder sitting in the French press, he went and sat down on his frankly uncomfortable couch. He winced, wishing that he hadn't let his mother decorate the loft anyway she saw fit while he had been in DC. The looked across the room, the blank television sitting between the two cases of medieval weaponry the rest of his family hated. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Laying his head back, he wondered how he had gotten to this place. How the world had decided he was the one to have a serial killer as a father, to have a missing – probably dead – sister, another sister who was hellbent on proving she was better than he was, to being plagued by the demons that weren't even his to begin with. emIt's all so fucked up/em, he declared to himself as the timer he had sent started to ring. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Slowly he got up, letting the irritating clamor help wake up his sluggish brain as he moved towards the kitchen and pressed the top of the French press down, letting the grinds and beans be filtered away from the rest of his bitter beverage. A small part of him wanted to see if somebody was up, somebody would talk to him. He could grab his phone, text someone. Gil would wake up for him, but he knew the man had just left the hospital and way staying with his mother; and Malcolm definitely didn't feel up to that intense of questioning at this hour. He debated Ainsley but decided that this was something he didn't want to worry her with. Dani Maybe? Malcolm didn't want to annoy her, seem needy when their friendship was finally on the mend from the mess this spring. There was no way he was calling JT, who would probably just send him to voice mail anyway. His last option was Edrisa, but as much as he liked the strange conversations they had, they weren't close enough for a post night terror three in the morning chat. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"He leaned over the counter; head bowed in defeat that maybe this would finally get to him. Finally, free of the girl in the box and the first memory that hits him is the one that causes him to break. He was debating going to channel surf, when the air was suddenly filled with the shrill ringing of his phone across the room. It was sitting beside his bed, and unless his father had suddenly gotten middle of the night phone privileges, which Malcolm high doubted as he barely had normal phone privileges back, the phone call was just what he needed./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"Malcolm quickly crossed the room and glanced outside. The lights on the building across the street weren't on, but there was someone who seemed to be standing in a streetlight staring up at them, before turning and walking. Filing that away in his head for later, he picked up the phone and swiped across the screen. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Hello?"/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Sorry to wake you, we have a case." He hadn't realized Dani was on call, but it must have been bad for her to be awake already. The tension in his jaw seemed to disappear as the words came out and sunk in. The calm before the metaphoric storm. /span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Okay, I'll call a cab."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;""Don't bother, on my way to grab you. Get dressed. Bring coffee."/span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"The phone clicked, and he turned it off before looking out the window once more at the desolate street below. It may have been unconventional, but murder truly was the only thing that kept him sane./span/p
p class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm; font-size: medium; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif;"strongspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"A/N: Hello! All songs put at the beginning of the chapters are ones that either influenced the chapter, I found well writing the chapter and felt right for it, or simply have lyrics that go with it. I don't own these songs, as you're probably aware of. I also don't own Prodigal Son (if there was any thoughts that I did, which I hope there wasn't). I am cross posting this from Ao3, not sure why but felt like it was a good idea. So, please enjoy. /spanspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;"If you've had publication alerts on me for all these years, welcome back to a new story! Unfortunately, I won't be updating any of my old stories. I no longer have motivation or even know what the plot line was (if there was one). So welcome to Prodigal Son!/spanspan lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman', serif;" /span/strong/p