Disclaimer: I do not own anything from American Horror Story.

AN: Hi everyone! This is my first bit of Fanfic I've ever written. There aren't many Kai stories out there so I thought I'd throw one into the mix. The story will primarily follow the events of Cult, with a few deviations here and there.

I hope you all enjoy it and of course any feedback would mean a lot!

Prologue

"Available units respond to 324 Maple road. Reports of a possible home invasion."

"Damn, here we go." Ryan picked up his radio, gave dispatch his unit number as his partner, Stanley, stepped on the gas. "We're on the way."

The sirens screamed through the night as the car tore through the streets. It was so late in the night—early in morning to be more precise—that there weren't many cars on the road to have to weave between.

Another police car pulled up outside the address as Ryan and Stanley arrived. The street, like the rest of Brookfield Heights, was quiet. A little too quiet.

"Door's ajar." One of the other officers nodded towards the front porch. The house was bathed in darkness. Ryan's stomach swirled; he had a feeling he wasn't going to like what they walked in on. There had been some strange incidents in this town recently. Ryan prayed tonight wasn't going to be one of them.

All four officers drew their weapons and began to file towards the door.

"We'll take the front," Stanley whispered. "You guys take the back."

Stanley and Ryan waited thirty seconds and with a nod towards each other, pushed their way through the door.

That unmistakeable tang of copper filled the air. Blood. And a lot of it. The beams of their torches looked like spotlights, highlighting the macabre scene. Ryan's foot almost slipped out under him as he stepped through the red puddles.

"Holy hell," he muttered. In all his twenty years on the force, he'd never seen anything like it. It was everywhere. On the floor, the walls (that looked as if they had once been white), some was even spattered on the ceiling.

His beam of light stopped on the family portrait that was hung above the fireplace. It wasn't the picture itself that caught his attention, with the mother and father gazing lovingly at what he assumed was their grown daughter. No, it was the smiling face painted over it, the blood still running down the frame.

Just like the other murders.

"Shit," Stanley whispered, drawing Ryan's attention to the middle of the room, where two bodies laid. He couldn't even make out whether they were male or female, young or old. It looked as if they'd been torn apart by animals. "We need to clear this place. Now."

Hearts thundering in their ears, they moved towards the staircase, knowing the other officers had the back of the house covered. No matter how quiet they tried to be, their footsteps sounded like gunshots ringing out through the house, potentially alerting the killer that—for all they knew—could still be around. But they carried on up the stairs. This was their job. This was the risk they took on.

They swept through the rooms upstairs. Everything seemed in its place: there were no signs of a struggle, not a drop of blood to be seen. It was as if they were in a completely different house to the one they originally stepped in—like the gruesome massacre hadn't happened.

Ryan and Stanley searched every square inch of the final bedroom. Just as Stanley opened his mouth to declare it clear, Ryan held his hand out.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Something hit the floor in the closet." Ryan was sure of it. It wasn't his mind playing tricks.

"We cleared it already. There's no one in there."

Ryan tilted his head towards it. "We check it again."

Ever so slowly, they crept towards the closest, with their guns at the ready. They opened the closet doors once more. Ryan shifted through the clothing as Stanley scoured the floor. No one.

"I told you we'd already—"

There it was again. An unmistakable thud. Both officers' eyes widened as they looked towards one another. The noise had come from the far-left corner. Ryan dropped to his knees and crawled into the closet. There he saw a small cupboard with a key in the lock.

"I think I've got something."

He reached his hand out as his partner took aim. He slowly twisted the key in the lock and gradually began to pull open the door.

A girl. No, a young woman. The same one in the family photo above the fireplace. Only the happy girl she seemed to have been was now gone. In its place, huddled as far as she could get into the corner of her tiny prison, was a terrified, cornered wild animal.

"Get away from me! Please don't!" Her desperate cries sent chills racing down Ryan's spine.

"Sweetheart, it's ok. You're safe. What's your name?"

Her only answer was a shake of the head as she tried to scramble back even further.

"I'm a police officer. My name is Officer Kilpatrick. You can call me Ryan. This is my partner Stanley. We're here to help."

Her watering blue eyes met his. "You're not going to hurt me?"

"No, me and my partner are going to get you out of here, ok?"

Ryan held out his hand and the woman's eyes bounced between his hand and beyond the closet door, as if she didn't know whether to take him at his word or not.

"It's ok," Ryan urged, not moving to reach out and take her—that would only scare her more and she'd been through enough tonight to last a lifetime.

After a few more anxious seconds, she reached a trembling hand out and curled her fingers around his palm in a desperate grip.

"That's it, nice and easy." Ryan began to help her out of the cramped space. When they were both able to stand, he noticed her entire body trembling like a leaf. Ryan and Stanley looked gazes once more, knowing what they'd have to do next.

"We're going to take you outside and have a paramedic look you over. Is that alright?"

"Where are my parents?" she asked, her gaze locked on the floor.

"Don't worry about them right now, let's focus on getting you safe." The woman continued to tremble; she wasn't going to make it down the stairs herself. Ryan could only hope the next part would go to plan. "I'm going to carry you downstairs but I'm going to need you to keep your eyes closed ok?"

At this, her head shot up. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "I have to close my eyes?"

"Just for a little while."

It was a moment before she nodded. "Ok."

Ryan lifted the woman into his arms gently and she, almost as if on instinct, burrowed her head into the side of his neck.

"Let's go," Stanley whispered.

They made their way downstairs. For such a small thing, she had a strong grip around his shoulders.

As they passed the horrendous scene, Ryan couldn't help but wonder why they had left the girl alive. He wouldn't dwell on it now though; he was just grateful they didn't have to deal with three torn-up bodies.

With only a few steps left before they crossed the front door, the woman opened her eyes.

"No! No! No!" Her screams were deafening. She fought tooth and nail trying to get out of Ryan's grip, her nails digging into his skin. He ran out of the house with her, her screams still ringing in his ears.

"Ssh. It's ok."

"Mum! Dad! Let me go to them! Let me go!" Lights flickered on in the houses down the street. It was no surprise her screams of pain were waking the neighbourhood. They had to get this under control and fast.

Ryan managed to place her in the backseat of his cruiser as the fight left her in a tidal wave. She collapsed against the backseat, muttering "no" over and over.

""I'm sorry sweetheart."

Who knew if she would ever recover from tonight? The emotional scars would run deep. Ryan pushed back her blonde hair. She was still too young to have to go through the death of a parent, let alone having to face the murder of them both.

Yes, she was going to be mentally scarred. But the only physical sign of the trauma she'd suffered was the single smudge of blood on her ear.