This story is part of the 'The Banishers' universe, and takes place during the events of Stage 01 and Let Me Breathe.
Disclaimer: I do not own Five Nights at Freddy's or Five Nights at Candy's. Five Nights at Freddy's belongs to Scott Cawthon, and Five Nights at Candy's to Emil Macko. I do NOT own any of the characters currently featured in this fic (keep in mind that OCs may be introduced later on in the story).
Please view my profile if you wish for more information on 'The Banishers', or any of my other stories.
Enjoy the chapter, and read and review :)
WARNING TO SENSITIVE READERS: Blood, Gore, and Trauma.
Chapter 2
Trees of Dreams in a World of Nightmares
1 year later, her father had taken her to see a doctor. They had pulled up at the building on a Monday, though Marilyn would have rather stayed at school. But her father had insisted.
"The doctor is here to help you." He would say, and every time Marilyn would shake her head. She didn't' want to meet him. "I've met him. He's a very nice man." He continued pressing, and eventually she gave in.
It wasn't that she hated all doctors; it was that she'd hated all the previous ones. When she had walked out of the theatre, tears streaming from her eyes and her footprints stained into the ground with blood, the police had realised she must have witnessed the murders. So they questioned her, every day, but something stopped her from remembering what had taken place.
Eventually they brought in the doctors; bright, smiling men and women, apparently meant to help her. She could tell they were trying their best to do something, though she couldn't tell what. To help her recover? To help her remember? Both? Who knew? Humans were unpredictable.
They called the memory block 'trauma'. It was a new word for Marilyn, and new things intrigued her. They had explained that it was bad; they needed to get rid of it, and they did it by talking. And that was what she didn't like. Since the incident, she had hardly talked. She often gave single worded answers, saying yes, no, or maybe.
The doctors, or psychiatrists, always wore smiles, but most of them were fake. The ones who were sincere were usually unintelligent, and so it had started an irritating cycle. New doctor, disagreement, new doctor, disagreement, and so on.
So now they walked up the small path, Marilyn clutching her father's hand as they did so. She didn't want him to leave; she had already almost lost her brother the previous year. And to make up for all this terrible pain, her father had showered her with gifts. Heck, he even bought her a phone! A mobile phone, with a camera. Right now it was lying in her pocket, having not been used at all for the past months. Marilyn liked the phone because it was from her father, not because she really used it. She found it quite pointless, sometimes even distracting.
Her father quickly opened the door, and Marilyn stepped inside reluctantly, closing the door behind her. There was a long corridor, lined with several doors. All of them were plain white, with a small golden plate with a name embedded into it.
They walked hand in hand, all the way to the other side of the corridor. There, on the right side of the corridor, was a door reading Dr Vinnie Wood.
Vinnie.
The name on the door already disturbed her; it brought back bad memories. The ventriloquist puppet lying on the table, his arm hanging and his eyes bulging. Marilyn doubted that coincidence was the reason the puppet and the new doctor shared the same name. Perhaps her mind was playing tricks on her, and the plate didn't even say what she thought it did. Perhaps it read Conrad Gibson, or some other fake sounding name.
But alas, when her father knocked and the door opened, a smiling face appeared behind the door, confirming what Marilyn thought.
"Hello!" He said cheerfully. "I'm Dr Wood!" Marilyn sighed as she looked back at the plate, noticing that it was the same. Her father extended his hand in greeting.
"I'm Ray." He said, and Dr Wood gave a massive grin. "Nice to meet you! And you must be Marilyn." He said, extending his hand for her to shake. She just looked at it for a moment, before glancing to the left. "Not much of a talker, huh?" He commented, though his fake cheerful expression remained.
"Right then, I'll be off now." Her father said, clapping her on the back. "I'll pick you up in an hour, alright?" As he started walking off, Dr Wood called out to him.
"Pleasure to meet you, Ray!" "Likewise!" Marilyn watched her father disappear down the hallway, as Dr Wood called her in. "Come in Marilyn!" She stood there rooted for a second or two, but the tone of Dr Wood's next words chilled her spine.
"We have quite lot to talk about." Reluctantly, she turned back, and walked into his room. After shutting the door and locking it, Dr Wood strode over to a wooden desk on the other side of the room.
"Please, sit." He said, motioning towards a seat opposite the desk. Marilyn did so, and he folded his arms. "Why are you here?" Dr Wood asked, and instantly the mask of the happy man who had greeted her father melted away. Marilyn frowned at the question.
"What do you mean?" She asked quietly. Dr Wood rolled his eyes, and opened a book on his desk. "You've been through…" He made a 'tsk' noise, and looked at her in the eyes. "24 different psychologists. They said you were reluctant to talk to any of them."
Something about Dr Wood made Marilyn uncomfortable. Yet somehow, she liked him more than the other doctors. He wasn't a faker, for starters. Plus, he definitely wasn't unintelligent.
"They were fakers." Marilyn said quietly. "Either that, or unintelligent." She began to fumble around with her phone in her pocket. Dr Wood saw this, and a strange look came over his face.
"Your father must really love you. I heard that he spoils you. Seems true, seeing what you're playing around with there." Marilyn eyed her phone, before looking back at him.
"Some peoples' definitions of spoiled are different from others." She told him. Though, she decided to take it out and finger it around. Dr Wood glanced at the phone, and looked back at her. "They want me to get it out of you." He said, and Marilyn gave him a slightly confused look. "They want to know what happened at the theatre."
Most of the doctors had asked this question after several others, such as 'how are you today?', 'what do you like?', and so on so on. But Dr Wood was straightforward. He either got the answers, or he didn't. And Marilyn liked that.
"They said that you have nightmares." He continued to press on, his expression serious. "About those men who died; the Rat and the Cat, I believe they were called." Marilyn rolled her eyes at this, trying her best to ignore what he'd said about nightmares.
"That was who they were known as; I never found out their names." Taking the easy way out, as always. Dr Wood laughed, noticing what she was trying to do. "I know what you're trying to do. Don't change the subject."
Damn, he was smart. And heck, he was smug about it. He'd figured out a whole lot of things by himself; it was almost like he knew exactly what he was talking about.
Marilyn sighed and frowned at his demand.
"What…what do you want do know?" She asked, and Dr Wood grinned.
"Finally, we're getting somewhere." He grinned, before walking over to her with a sheet of paper and pencil in hand. "First of all…" He said as he set them before her.
"I want you to draw them for me."
xXx
"How are you feeling today?" Marilyn gave Dr Wood a nonresponsive shrug, and he frowned. "It's been two weeks." She frowned, and was about to point out that their last (and first) meeting had been a week ago, but realised what he meant. Two weeks since the incident with her brother.
"I understand it was a very traumatic experience." He said, and Marilyn scoffed. He was different today. Last time he had been a cold, but still helpful man. Now he was acting like the other 'doctors'. There was no explanation for it, unless.
He's testing me.
She had told him how she didn't like the others; he wanted to see her reaction. Find out if she was telling the truth, or just didn't like talking.
Better give him what he wants then.
"I understand that it was a very traumatic experience." The words were mostly just rubbing off on her now, and Dr Wood seemed to notice this. "But luckily, your brother wasn't seriously hurt." He continued, and Marilyn growled. He shouldn't have brought up her brother.
And what did he mean, not seriously injured? Right now he was lying in a deep coma on a hospital bed, with about a million wires attached to his body. Perhaps that was an exaggeration, but panic did that to the human brain. She had known that going to the new location was a terrible idea, but had her father listened? No. Not at all.
"You have to remember, they weren't real. They were just machines." Dr Wood said, causing Marilyn to question whether he could read her mind. And, also to think about the characters. It had still been known as the Rat & Cat Theatre; they hadn't bothered to hide their past. Whether this had affected business, Marilyn hadn't been exactly sure. But the fact that name of the location hadn't changed also reminded her of something else.
Candy.
Only she knew the Cat's name. She and the puppeteer.
Somehow he had survived when his co-workers had been killed. She couldn't remember much about the day; only going in the staff room to play hide and seek. Everything which had occurred after she had shut the closet door was a blur.
"They aren't capable of harming anyone." Marilyn looked at Dr Wood, and wondered what he was trying to do. Clearly he was either becoming insane, or was still continuing their test. Or trying a different approach. Perhaps he had just been in a bad mood the other day. The last thought sent shivers down her spine. She didn't like this new Dr Wood.
"What happened was just an accident." Of course it had been. It wasn't as if people programmed an entertaining robot to kill. Or to grab a child. Or punch them so hard that their ribs cracked. But somehow, the last two had happened to her brother. A fluke in the coding, an oversight of the programmer's eye. That was all it took, and a child could stay comatose for years.
"He was just…broken." He started again, and Marilyn raised an eye at his choice of words. Broken could mean many things. Fractured. Bent. Imperfect. Maybe dysfunctional. Her brother had been hardly any of those. "But it's okay now. You're safe here."
And that was where she had drawn the line with the other doctors. With their talk of things being 'okay', and how she was 'safe'. Nothing had ever been 'okay'. No one was ever 'safe'. She knew that from her blurred well of memories, which consisted mostly of two corpses, one silent and the other leaking a puddle of dark red blood. Okay didn't mean okay. Safe never meant safe. In this world you couldn't trust anyone, and yet betrayals and acts of violence came as a shock to anyone who was a stranger to them.
But Dr Wood had shown himself to be sensible, at least when he wanted to be. So Marilyn wanted to give him a chance, even if it meant she had to deal with memories of worse doctors.
"You remembered them from the theatre?" Dr Wood asked, and Marilyn gave him a small nod. "Ah yes, the old one you and your father went to a year ago, right?" She snorted suddenly, and his eyes glanced to the window momentarily. He already knew this information; he had proved that the last time they'd met. It was almost like meeting him for the first time; except his personality had been changed drastically.
"Your father has told me about what happened when you were there." That got Marilyn to perk up, not because he had mentioned the theatre, but her father. She'd figured that the strange calls he had been receiving weren't from a random business owner carrying out some self-promotion.
"You got separated from each other that day when the incident happened." Marilyn tilted her head as she tried to figure out where this was all going. Of course it came down to him trying to get what had happened out of her. But it wasn't like Dr Wood was normal. He probably had other questions of his own, which most others wouldn't have asked.
"Have you still had nightmares since we last met? Were they about those monsters you drew for me?" And there was that little flair she'd been waiting for. The irrelevant question, followed by an impatient one. Dr Wood was finally back it seemed, and Dr Woody Two-Shoes was thrown out the window.
"You're a very creative girl." He said, and she noticed that his cold tone had returned to his voice. His narrowed stare was beginning to show again, and his fake smile had been wiped off his face, replaced with a dark frown. "But you can't let your fears take control of your imagination." He said, and she almost wanted to say 'Well, obviously'. Marilyn had heard several similar lines in the movies. They were supposed to be encouraging, but they just made her cringe, either out of amusement or disapproval.
She had a feeling he was recording their conversation; that was probably why he was using his fake happy voice which he had spoken to her father with. Perhaps he hadn't last time, and needed to this time.
"In order for your nightmares to end, you have to face your fears. You have to face the monsters. Show them that you're not afraid."
Oh, for the love of-
"Do you understand?"
You said that to me last week.
"It's the only way."
Wow, never would have guessed.
If only you told me how, genius.
xXx
Hush, be quiet. You know what will happen if he catches you.
And he always does.
No, that wasn't right. There had been the one time…but that had ended with two bodies.
The woman had said 'stay patient'. That her family was 'coming'. Marilyn didn't really care about her family coming; she was more or less just surprised they'd kept her alive for so long. 15 years.
The woman had also told her that her brother had woken up, literally a few days after she had dropped into her own coma. Correction; she hadn't 'dropped' into a coma. She'd been shot into one, by the hand of the puppeteer.
She clenched her jaw at the thought of that man; or was he really? She remembered him to be nothing but a monster; a marionette, being controlled not by a cross and strings, but the animalistic urges of survival. How had he felt when he had done it, she wondered? Angry, sad, anxious? Or perhaps had he not understood the severity of his actions, till his head lay on a pillow at 10 in the night.
That was a brutal way of thinking about it, she knew. But still, what other way was there?
Creak!
Marilyn perked up as she heard the door open. She watched, silent as her father and brother walked into the room. Marilyn raised an eyebrow at her father, who seemed to keep glancing nervously out the window. Her brother meanwhile, was simply staring at her. An anxious grin was plastered on his face, and she remembered that he had always been that way, 10 years ago.
She didn't smile when her father spoke. The past 10 years, she had grown quite indifferent to positive emotions. She hardly paid any heed to them, unless they were her own.
"Marilyn…" He started, and she rolled her eyes.
"Long time no see, dad." She said before he could finish his sentence. "10 years, I was told." It wasn't like she hadn't known how much time had passed. The calendar had told her everything; but her father didn't know that.
"Yeah, 10 years." He said, and she noticed a genuine smile. "Same with you, Matt." Marilyn said, addressing her brother. He looked taken aback by her words, but quickly recovered. "Ay to that, sis." He grinned cheekily, and she sighed for a moment. "So, uh…" She looked back at her dad, expressionless. "Fill me in on the last 10 years."
There was a jolt in his movements as the gears in his head began to turn, trying to figure out what to tell her.
"Not about the world, dad, just about you and Matt. I can catch up by myself." Marilyn said, waving a hand. Her father looked relieved, while her brother gave her an odd glance before staring at his feet.
"Well, nothing much. Your brother got a girlfriend, actually."
"Oh?" Marilyn looked at Matt accusingly, and he shrugged.
"We broke up after a few months." He said, a little too hastily. "She was too demanding."
"Good for you then." She muttered quietly, and looked at her father again. "That's it? Nothing else?" Her father shook his head, and she sighed, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed onto the floor.
"Marilyn!" Matt said in a panicky tone. She held up a hand, and laughed.
"Jeez, you two. I just want to see whether I can walk." She held onto the edge of the bedside table as she stood up, accidentally knocking off the origami cat. "Fuck. Marilyn muttered as she bent down, grabbing him and placing him back on the table. When she turned around to look at Matt and her father, they were both staring in shock.
"What?" She asked, irritated.
"How do you even know that word?" Her father asked. "You were 8 years old when you fell asleep. I don't recall ever saying it to you."
Shit.
Marilyn eyed her brother, noticing the same confused expression on his face.
"It's nothing, really." She tried to wave off the question as she started off towards the window, staggering when she placed down her left leg.
"Crap!" Matt reached out and grabbed her arm to prevent her from falling, as she looked down at her leg.
"What in the world…?" She muttered, lifting up the hospital gown, and jolting when she saw what was there. Three jagged lines were bulging from her skin. New scars, as if she'd been inured just a week ago. But she had been in the Deep-
Yes. She'd been there. She'd been there in the dark, and she'd strayed from the path. She'd tried to reach the other side, she'd ran and ran till her legs ached and her lungs were on fire but he was too fast for her and then he had-
Gone. He had gone, and so had she.
Marilyn pulled the gown back down, and staggered to the window.
"Marilyn. You shouldn't be walking." She recognised her father's voice, and sighed as she looked down at the road beneath them. It was busy, cars bustling back and forth, an intersection far to the left and a roundabout to the right. And down in the centre, almost directly below them.
Marilyn froze, and stared at the thing in the middle of the road. No one else seemed to notice it, not even her father and Matt when they arrived next to her.
"What is it?" Matt asked, and she pointed down at the road.
"You don't see it?" She asked, and he frowned. "Uh, you mean the road?" She whipped her head over to her father, who shrugged. Marilyn looked back at the road, and gasped as the purple spike in the middle of the road began to rise higher and higher, branches beginning to grow off of the twisted trunk. It was a tree, in the middle of the road, and only she could see it. And that could only mean one thing.
"It's calling to me." She muttered to herself. "I need to follow it."
"Marilyn? What are you talking about?" Her father asked, but she was already drawing back her fist, preparing to strike. "Marilyn!" She struck the glass, grinning as it made a satisfying cracking sound. A spider web of cracks had formed from where she'd struck. Drawing her fist back she struck again, and again, the cracks growing larger and larger as she landed her punches onto the glass. She ignored the pain as the skin on her knuckles split open, and her blood was spilled over the floor.
"Marilyn!" She struggled as Matt tried to pull her back, and the door behind them opened.
"What the hell is going on here?!" Someone yelled, probably a doctor. Using the distraction to her advantage, Marilyn broke free of Matt's grasp, and rammed her shoulder into the window. Before she knew it, little shards of glass were flying as everyone in the room screamed, and then she was falling down, hurtling through the air faster and faster as she landed-
xXx
- in the gutter, accidentally gulping up the filthy water as she attempted to breathe, then instantly spitting it back out again in disgust.
"Drink piss, Schmidt!" She heard Amanda laugh as she forced her head down into the dirty drain. "Just drink it all up!" The following storm of cackling told Marilyn that all her friends were laughing as she was forced down, struggling to breathe as the rush of water threatened to pull her away.
It was a rainy day today, and it made Marilyn angry that Amanda thought this was fun. She always liked it when it rained. It usually made it comfortable, and relaxing. But then people like Amanda always seemed to find witnessing and participating in the suffering of others extremely relaxing.
It was days like this where the passing adults might see what Hurricane's true nature really was. Maybe violent crime really was under 1%, but people paid no heed to the cries of schoolchildren and their tall tales of mean bullies, creepy paedophiles and hungry rapists. If Marilyn knew anything for certain, it was that if this was all there was to the world, then she certainly didn't want to live in it.
The people in the passing cars either didn't notice her predicament, or just simply chose to ignore the situation as it unfolded. If Marilyn was honest with herself, she was pretty sure that the only person who'd help her was Chief Burke. She'd met him briefly after the incident at the Rat and Cat Theatre. Out of all the people who'd questioned her, he was the only one who genuinely seemed to care about whether she was okay, the only one who asked her questions sensitively, to block out the pain of trauma. God, what she wouldn't give for him to show up right now, just happening to drive by after school, maybe to pick up his son Carlton. Wouldn't that be fun?
But the wishful thinking got Marilyn nowhere as the pressure from Amanda forced her to keep her mouth shut as the crowd of kids behind her jeered and laughed. All she wanted in the world right now was to pull Amanda into the water and force her down instead. But she wasn't strong enough. And she probably never would be.
"Hey, let her go!" Someone yelled from behind them. Amanda's grip loosened for a moment, allowing Marilyn a few fleeting seconds of air, gasping as she tilted her head a little to see who had arrived. It was Tracey, her long brown hair plastered to her face, wearing a scowl as she stalked towards the group. "What the fuck is wrong with you people?" She said angrily. "School's just finished, and you just decide 'hey, let's stuff Marilyn's face into the drain', like it's a hilarious joke or something. Well guess what, it's not! Go home, and stop being jerks to her! She's been through more than you probably ever will in your whole life, so shove off!"
Tracey had a natural air of authority around her wherever she went, no matter the weather or time of day. It was something Marilyn, Amanda, and probably everyone else in their Year level admired about her. As she glared at each person, one by one, they began to leave. Amanda scowled back at her, releasing her grip on Marilyn, and walking away, sulking.
"Thanks." Marilyn wheezed, as Tracey offered her a hand.
"No problem. Can't have you too beat up for tomorrow, can we?" Marilyn frowned, and sighed. "Oh, right. Yeah, I'm testifying tomorrow."
"It's great that you remember, you know?" Tracey said with a smile on her face. "Maybe you'll find closure, somehow."
"Maybe." Marilyn said, but she sounded doubtful. "Hey, it'll be okay." Tracey grinned as they walked down an empty street. "I'm sure you'll do great."
"Thanks." Marilyn smiled. "By the way, what does fuck mean?" The other girl laughed and placed a hand over her mouth. "To be honest, I don't know. But my mum says it when she's angry." They laughed for a moment, before Marilyn frowned. "Tracey, sh." Another pair of footsteps sounded from behind them. The two whirled around, just in time to see a man in a black hoodie running towards them.
"Run!" Tracey cried out, just before the man swatted her aside, sending her into a wall with a sickening crack.
"No!" Marilyn screamed as the man pulled her back, and threw her onto the road.
"You know, you made this far too easy. And I thought you would be paranoid after that day." The man said as he pulled off his hood, and Marilyn froze. The face of the puppeteer looked back at her, covered in white makeup with his bright rosy cheeks. He pulled out a gun, and pressed it to her forehead.
"I'm sorry, but I can't let you tell them what you saw." He said softly, pulling the hood back over his head. "I wish I could take it all back. But I can't."
"No, please…" Marilyn whimpered as Tracey ran towards him, screaming. Then he pulled the trigger, as he was pushed away. Marilyn fell backwards, blood streaming from the side of her head. When Tracey had pushed the puppeteer, the gun had been pointed in the wrong direction. But it had still hit, and now the wound was pouring blood like a fountain. She tried to speak, but she couldn't. As the rain fell around her and her blood pooled, Marilyn began to shake, remembering what had happened to the Rat. He's bled from the side of his head, bled until he'd died. And now that same fate was going to happen to Marilyn.
Somehow, she wasn't scared. The idea of death didn't really scare her. And so she laughed. She laughed and cried and gurgled as she coughed up blood, and grew oblivious to the pouring rain and the pool of blood. Someone was coming now, their steps splashing in the water as they made their way towards her. Was it Tracey, running this way, or the puppeteer, coming back to finish the job? No, that couldn't be it, she was hearing sirens now. People were coming to help. But she wasn't going to make it, was she? Fate was a cruel being, and it enjoyed torturing the lives of the innocents. As she looked up at the sky, Marilyn gave one last laugh, before her eyes closed, and Tracey screamed out.
