Disclaimer: I do not own the Evil Within. This story will contain, blood, gore, violence, and dark themes. Viewer discretion is advised.
Sebastian awoke early in the morning when the sun was grazing the amber horizon, and the old house was peacefully quiet. It took him a moment to get out of the rickety bed and stretch his stiff muscles with a yawn. He opened his closet, which wasn't even half full, and put on a grey house robe to warm himself in the chill house. Then, making sure his steps were quiet on the creaky floorboards, he walked out of his bedroom and down the dark hall where a door was cracked open. He peaked through the crack and, with the faint glow of a battery-powered butterfly nightlight, saw a small figure on the bed, curled in lavender blankets and pink pillows. He sighed, relieved, before heading to the bathroom to freshen up the best he could without water, which was just combing his hair. He scoffed at the few grey streaks of hair on his head, a reminder of how old he was getting.
"Good morning." Sebastian flinched, startled by the greeting, and saw his daughter standing in the doorway with her long dark brown hair shadowing her crystal blue eyes and a stuffed blonde doll clutched in her hands, its clothes hanging on by a thread and one of its dark beaded eyes missing. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, Dad." She apologized. Sebastian relaxed his posture.
"It's alright, sweetheart. What are you doing up so early? Did I wake you?"
"No, I was already up." She replied, shaking her head. "I was just waiting for you to get up too."
"Let me guess, you wanna get out of the house?" she immediately perked up at his inquiry.
"Yes, please! I feel like I'm in a morgue with how dark and smelly it is here."
"Agreed. Get some clothes on, and we'll head down to Betty's," he said, setting down the comb.
"Thanks, Dad." She thanked him, wrapping her arms around him in a warm hug which he gladly returned. She then took off back down the hall to get dressed.
"Careful!" he called out in parental reflex, which was ignored. He sighed and went off to get dressed.
After putting on a pair of black pants and a green shirt, he opened the rotting dresser in the corner of his room and pulled out his handgun. He checked to make sure it was loaded before sliding it into his holster and throwing on his jacket, concealing it. He then finally put on a black baseball cap. Dressed, he grabbed his handbag and went to the bathroom, gathering all his morning supplies, as little as they were. He then waited outside on the porch watching the sunrise for Lily to come out, which she quickly did. She wore tattered blue jeans with holes at the knees, a hemless black hoodie with a white outline of a butterfly flying across it, her dark purple shirt visible, and dirtied black and white sneakers. Her long hair was tied back in a low ponytail that rested over her shoulder, with a lock of hair escaping the tie and hanging down the side of her face. Clinging to her back was her white backpack decorated with colorful drawings and paintings of various insects to pastel-colored body parts such as eyes and hands.
"Ready, Dad?"
"You got your knife?" Lily rolled her eyes.
"Yes, Dad." She lifted her hoodie and shirt to show the small butterfly knife with a magenta handle latched to her belt loop.
"Then let's get going." He let her walk ahead of him through the uncut grass and to the main sidewalk next to the road, passing the banged-up red truck. Its engine had finally died a couple of weeks ago, and finding a replacement was easier said than done. Nevertheless, walking through the small rural town wasn't all bad. It helped with exercise, and they barely ran into any people. Lily also enjoyed the scenery, though he didn't see the appeal in the rustic shops and overgrown foliage turning shades of brown and orange for the fall season.
Fifteen minutes of walking led them to a bright blue and white sign reading Betty's and the quaint café underneath it. The lights were on, but the sign on the front door was flipped to Closed. He knocked anyway, and from behind the counter, an older woman with her greying hair tied in a bun with round glasses perched before her brown eyes looked up from her cleaning. He waved, and she came from behind the counter to unlock the door.
"Oh, good mornin', Mr. Rogers, and to you, of course, Miss Lizzy." she greeted and motioned them to come inside. "Please come in. We open up in thirty minutes, so hopefully, that's enough time for ya'll to freshen up."
"That's plenty of time, Mrs. Sweetland." He said, walking inside with Lily.
"Thank you so much, ma'am," Lily said as she headed to the woman's bathroom.
"Anytime."
"Sorry for bothering you like this." He apologized. "I promise we'll keep it clean."
"Honestly, it's no trouble at all."
"Yup, no trouble in lettin' bums stink up our bathroom before hours." A younger woman from behind the counter grumbled, arms crossed over her chest.
"Hush up, Georgia, and get back to cleanin'." Mrs. Sweetland scolded the waitress, who returned to cleaning a coffee mug. He went to the bathroom to freshen up, using as few supplies as possible. He couldn't do everything he wished, but cleaning his teeth and splashing cool water on his grimy face felt nice. He groaned as he wiped his unshaven face with a paper towel; he never would have thought he'd be here.
Caring for a daughter growing up faster than he imagined was a mountainous task without a place to call home and no way to make a living. This wasn't the life he wanted for her, but it was the safest. He cleaned up after himself, keeping his promise, and headed back into the dining area. The sun was up, and the smell of coffee filled the café, and he noted that Lily was still in the bathroom. He also noted that the store must have been open due to the singular customer in the store.
It was a man seated at the end of the counter with a steaming mug of coffee in his gloved hands. He wore a navy blue overcoat with black pants and shoes and a maroon beanie with strands of his dark brown hair sticking out. He couldn't help but stare at the man. He'd never seen him here before, and he guessed he was a traveler just visiting for a breakfast stop before heading back on the road. The man paid him no heed as he walked to a booth in front of the window. Mrs. Sweetland came over with a smile and set a coffee in front of him and a glass of orange juice on the other side of the table. He thanked her before looking out the window and seeing a sleek black mini-van in the parking lot.
"Whatcha looking at?" Lily asked as she sat across from her Dad, putting her backpack beside her.
"Nothin' much." He withdrew his attention from the car and to his daughter. "You sleep good last night?"
"Kinda." She shrugged as she pulled out a worn leather journal and a pencil case from her backpack. "I didn't sleep much, but the dreams weren't too bad when I did."
"Really, what'd you dream about?"
"About a garden of white roses, and every time I touched one, they turned red. It was really cool, but then I looked at my hands." She paused and took a sip of her orange juice before continuing. "They were all scratched up and bleeding, but it didn't hurt, so I kept going."
"Why?" He asked, trying not to sound alarmed.
"Because I wanted to know what would happen if I made all the roses red." She answered as if stating the obvious.
"And what happened?"
"Well—"
"Here's your food," Mrs. Sweetland said, walking over to them carrying two plates of scrambled eggs, bacon, and French toast. She set down the plates in front of them. "Discounted as always. You know, if you want, me and my husband can drive you to the big city and find a shelter for ya'll. Winter's comin', and I don't want ya'll to freeze or anythin'."
"No, thank you." Sebastian declined as Lily began to eat her French toast while drawing in her journal. "We haven't had the best experience with shelters. By winter, we'll be back on our feet. Thank you for all you've done for us."
"You're welcome, Mr. Rogers. If you need anythin', just holler." She left them to enjoy their breakfast. As Sebastian ate, he glanced towards the man, who seemed to order coffee and no food whatsoever. Picky eater, maybe? Then why stop just to drink coffee? Couldn't he have just ordered to go and went back on the road.
"Dad, you're being a creep." Lily hushed under her breath, pausing her drawing. Sebastian looked at his daughter with an incredulous stare.
"I'm not being a creep. I'm being aware of my surroundings."
"You're staring like a creep is what you're doing. Let the man drink his coffee in peace."
"Alright, fine." He had to admit, he still was in the habit of analyzing everyone in any place he was in. He was just trying to be observant, but Lily had told him there was a difference between observant and nosy. "You didn't finish telling me about your dream."
"Oh, yeah, right… Well, it's kinda hard to explain. My memory gets kinda foggy. But I remember there were flashes of light, and every time they went off, I saw images of like…" Lily paused, searching for the right words. "… Someone like this." She passed her open journal to him, and he looked down at the drawing. "It's not done yet, so it may look a little crappy."
Drawn in pencil was the top half of a woman that wore a loose-fitting blouse that was shredded at the ends. Her hands were clasped around what looked to be a wilted flower. Her head was non-existent. In its steed was a bouquet made of withered roses with sharp thorns.
"What did it do?"
"She gave me one of her roses." Lily smiled, but her grin faltered. "Is it that bad?" Her question made him realize he had been making a face.
"Oh, no, it's not bad at all, sweetheart. Just striking. I like it a lot." He made sure to smile and passed her journal back to her.
"It's okay, Dad." She sighed. "I know spooky stuff like this isn't your cup of tea." He could hear the slight hurt in her voice.
"Hey, don't let some old man keep you from drawing. It's good, I mean really good." A small smile began worming onto Lily's face. "I can see people paying you for your drawings. You're a really talented drawer."
"Drawer?" she repeated the word with a skeptical look. "No, that sounds weird. I'm an artist." She smiled brightly, and Sebastian fought to keep his own grin.
"Yes, of course… Say, you wanna go to the park today? Get out of that rickety old house."
"Oh, that'd be great! I finished eating, so we can head there now. Just let me pack up." She started putting away her art supplies, and Sebastian got up and went to the counter to pay for the food. The man was still there and didn't turn to acknowledge him as Sebastian stood at the counter. Mrs. Sweetland and Georgia were in the back, so he'd have to wait. He used the time to pull out the crumpled dollars and dirty coins from his pocket. This would put a dent in their funds, but it had been a while before they had a good meal. Seeing his daughter happy was worth it, even if it was only for the time being.
"How much is it?" It took Sebastian a moment to realize it had been the man that had spoken. He looked at him, but he was still facing forwards.
"Pardon me?"
"How much is it?" The stranger repeated, and this time Sebastian could hear the accent in his voice. "Your meal, I mean."
"Oh, you don't need to pay. I got it. Thank you for the offer, though." He didn't want to be in debt to someone.
"No, I insist." The stranger pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and placed it on the counter. "This should be enough, yes?"
"No, really, it's okay." Sebastian pushed the twenty back. "You probably need it more than I do." The stranger looked at the twenty and chuckled.
"Says the homeless man with a daughter to care for. But I guess stubbornness is hard to break in a man like you, Sebastian."
"Look, I—" He cut himself off as it finally clicked in his head what the man had just said. He immediately stepped away from the counter, his hand reaching for his hip. Lily was startled at her father's sudden action and cowered behind him. "What the hell do you want?!" The stranger didn't answer immediately as he took a final sip of his coffee.
"Oh, sorry, we didn't do introductions yet, did we?" The stranger set down his mug and turned around in his chair.
"Fear radiates from you. It's beautiful—"
Sebastian whipped out his gun and trained it on the supposed-to-be dead man, glaring into his cold eye. Ready to pull the trigger. Lily yelped, and Sebastian grabbed her shoulder to comfort her. The psychopath looked mildly annoyed, curling his lips like he was just told a corny joke.
"Now, don't be stupid." He reprimanded the former detective. "I simply want to talk."
"How the fuck are you here?" Sebastian questioned, his voice shaken.
"Oh, I see. I forget how alike we look." The psychopath mused. "I'm not who you believe me to be." He stood up, and Sebastian stepped closer to the door with Lily in tow.
"You keep away from us!"
"Hush, hush, I'm not here to bring harm." The man took off his hat and brushed back the bang of hair covering half of his face behind his ear. Both of his bright eyes held no malice or hate. "I assure you I'm no photographer." Sebastian's grip on his gun loosened at the stranger's words. Taking a closer look at the man, he could see the differences he had from the murderous photographer; taller, an older face, dark brown, greener irises, and two eyes. It left an uneasy feeling in his gut looking at the man that so closely mirrored the psychopath that tried to mutilate him.
"Who are you?" Sebastian was surprised that Lily asked the question. The man looked at her, and his expression softened.
"I'll explain everything, signorina. But first, your father needs to put down his arms." He directed his gaze back to Sebastian, waiting to see if he would comply. Sebastian didn't trust the man, but he didn't see how blowing the man's brains out on the café floor would be of any help. He finalized his decision when he heard someone coming out of the kitchen and quickly holstered his gun just as Mrs. Sweetland walked behind the counter. She startled slightly at the scene before her.
"Oh, my is everything alright?" she asked.
"Of course, signora." the man responded with a charming smile before Sebastian could answer. "Mr. Rogers and I were talking about heading to the park. I've left the cash for you on the counter. Please keep the change." As the man began walking to the door, Mrs. Sweetland gave the Castellanos a worried look.
"Don't worry about us, Mrs. Sweetland. We'll be good. Thank you for the meal." Sebastian thanked her and went to walk out the door and saw that the man was holding it open for them with a smile. He made sure to keep Lily on the other side of him as they walked out the door and kept his eyes trained on him as they made it out into the parking lot.
"I'm guessing you won't accept a drive to the park." The man assumed, gesturing to the black van.
"Yeah, walking's just fine for us."
"Ottimo, I'll meet you at the park. Don't keep me waiting." Sebastian watched the man enter his car and drive toward the park. As soon as the car was out of sight, Sebastian began walking in the opposite direction.
"Okay, Lily, you'll need to pack up fast. We need to get going as quickly as we can. We can only go so fast on foot."
"We're not going to the park?" Lily asked, confused.
"No, that man is trouble. I know it. Now come on, sweetheart."
"Wait, Dad," Lily stopped in her tracks. "We have to go talk with him." Sebastian also stopped and turned to face his daughter with a stern look.
"Lily, we are leaving. You have no idea what that man has in mind? You know who he looks like."
"And that's why we have to talk to him." She countered. "He may know something important, and I'm pretty sure if we try and run away, he'll just find us again."
"This isn't a discussion, now come on." He brushed her off and tried walking again.
"We can't, Dad." She stood firm. "We need to talk with him."
"We need to keep going, Lily."
"Can we not run away for once, dammit?!" she snapped but quickly put a hand over her mouth. "S-sorry, I..." Sebastian's scowl immediately vanished.
"Hey, it's okay, sweetheart," he grabbed her shoulders to comfort her, softening his voice. "I know it's hard, and you're a tough girl for putting up with all of this. But I promise we'll find a place to call home soon enough."
"... I still dream about it, you know." Lily looked away at a distant place as she spoke. "It's like I can't get it out of my head no matter how hard I try to forget. It's burned too deep inside of me. I can't keep ignoring what happened," she looked her father in the eyes, "And neither can you. This could be our chance to actually try and get better. You know we can't run forever, right?" Sebastian sighed. He'd grown too used to burring his problems underneath a false sense of security.
"I know… Alright, we'll go meet this mystery man." Lily lit up.
"Really?!"
"Yeah, he'll probably just track us down again, like you said. Best to confront him head-on. But you keep close to me the entire time and don't say anything. We don't know how much he knows."
"Got it." Lily turned around and began walking towards the park with Sebastian close behind, hoping he didn't make the wrong decision.
~ V ~
They found the man sitting at a park picnic table underneath a tall tree with amber leaves. Beside him on the bench was an old rolled-up newspaper he had presumably been reading. The warmth of the morning sun helped against the chill autumn breeze, but Sebastian still shuttered. Then, finally, the man noticed them and waved them over.
"You ready, Lily?" He asked.
"As I'll ever be."
The man watched as they came to sit at the other side of the table.
"You came," the man said with a smile. "For a moment, I thought you'd try and run away, but," he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "You're not that senseless."
"Just cut the crap and tell me who you are." Sebastian's scowl returned.
"Oh, yes, where are my manners?" The man sat up and straightened his collar. "I'm called Bruno Valentini. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Castellanos." He held out a gloved hand. Sebastian crowed his arms over his chest. "Vecchio scontroso," Valentini mumbled under his breath as he retracted his hand. "Were you this cold to my brother?"
"You're cameraman's brother?" Lily asked before she could stop herself.
"Why, yes indeed, signorina." Valentini's soft tone returned. "You met him in Union, didn't you?"
"How do you know about that?" Sebastian asked, never looking away from the man sitting across from him.
"I'm not a part of that bastard organization if that's what you think."
"Then how do you know about Union?"
"Well, when my brother went missing, I was naturally worried. It took me a couple of years to finally figure out he had become a Guinea pig for an off-the-books organization. From there, it was simply a matter of making mongrels speak," a slight smirk wormed onto his face. "And they speak so much when one stroke away from gracing death's door." Sebastian had a feeling that Valentini had more in common with his psychopathic brother besides looks. "They mentioned you plenty, Mr. Castellanos."
"What about Union? They tell you how that ended?" Valentini's smile stiffened.
"I'm painfully aware, yes."
"We're sorry," Lily interjected.
"Oh, there's no need to be sorry, signorina," He chuckled. "If I wanted to avenge my brother, I wouldn't be talking to your father so kindly right now." His ocean-green eyes narrowed on Sebastian. "You couldn't imagine how lucky you are that my brother doesn't need avenging." Sebastian blamed the chill running down his spine on the wind.
"If you're not here to settle a score, why are you here? Just stopped by to say "hi."
"Unfortunately, no. I come with a deal." Sebastian raised an eyebrow.
"Deal?" Valentini rested his elbows back on the table.
"Allow me to set the stage for you, Mr. Castellanos. Four years ago, on September 13th, the KCPD got a call about a blood-covered man running on the side of the road. When the responding officers arrived, there were paramedics already on the scene as another call had come in saying that the same man running down the road had been struck by a car." He glanced at Lily.
"I won't go into graphic detail about how they brought him in, but it was suspected that the man was on drugs or perhaps suffering from a mental condition. It wasn't until people listened to what he said that they figured out what was wrong with him and who he was. It was all over the news. I'm surprised you never heard of it, especially since it was in your hometown."
"You can't be serious?" Sebastian asked, his mind already building a profile in his head.
"See for yourself." Valentini picked up the newspaper beside him and unrolled it. He slid it across the table to them, and Sebastian's eyes immediately locked onto the headline.
"THE KRIMSON PHOTOGRAPHER FINALLY CAUGHT"
Krimson City serial killer in custody, Stefano Valentini's brutal confession!
Next to the article was the headshot of an all-too-familiar face with an even more familiar smile.
"He's alive!?" Lily exclaimed, grabbing the newspaper and immediately reading the article.
"Alive? Yes. Well? I'm afraid not." Valentini answered.
"How the hell is he alive?" Sebastian questioned, getting hit with another wave of disbelief.
"That I do not have an answer for. After the collapse of Union, I assume he found a way to escape and made it back to Krimson City. Though he clearly wasn't of composed mind as he was found not guilty on reasons of insanity and sent to a madhouse as punishment."
"Okay, the photographer's alive. So what?" Sebastian didn't have a good feeling as to where this was going, and that feeling was strengthened when Valentini smirked.
"You see, this is where the deal comes into play. Last I checked, Stefano, is being held at the St. Eden Mental Asylum outside of Krimson City. You help me get him out and—"
"I'm going to stop you while your ahead." Sebastian interrupted. "I'm not going to help you release a psychopathic serial killer. He's in there for a damn reason." Valentini's smile vanished.
"I'm well aware of why he's there, Mr. Castellanos. I don't expect understanding or sympathy from you, but I do expect common sense. I can give you supplies if you help me get him out."
"Supplies?"
"Yes, money, a car, fresh clothes. Name any item, and I can get it for you." He looked at Lily. "You have a daughter to care for. It's not healthy or safe for either of you to be held up in that rotting house. I can make it, so you don't have to live on the street in filth. I can help make life 'normal,'…But only if you help me first." Valentini held out his hand. "Do we have a deal?"
"Why should I trust you?"
"Because I'm your only chance for a life where you don't have to struggle to survive. Your daughter deserves to have a better life. That's why you saved her, isn't it?" Sebastian paused, contemplating the deal. He didn't want his daughter to continue living this life, but he also didn't want to put her at risk because he trusted the brother of a serial killer. Then, he felt a hand gently grabbing his arm. He looked at Lily, who still held onto the newspaper, with hopeful eyes.
"No more running, Dad."
"You can't hide forever."
Sebastian took in a deep breath and uncrossed his arms, eyeing the outstretched hand.
"Screw us over, and I'll kill you." He threatened.
"The sentiment is mutual."
Sebastian swallowed his fears and grabbed Valentini's hand, a firm and chilling grasp.
Φ
"… Are you listening to me, Stefano?"
"Yes, of course."
"Really, you seem far more interested in your sketches than what I have to say?"
"It only appears that way because you cannot see where I'm looking."
"My guess is you're looking at your drawings."
"You would be correct."
"Stefano, please, this is serious."
"I know, I'm simply teasing. Know that I am always listening to you, cara."
"Sorry, it's difficult to read you at times. You can seem so apathetic. I don't think you do it on purpose… I was saying I'm unsure if I will get the part. My audition was without many flaws, and the reaction from the judges told me my improvisation had been in my favor, but…"
"But what?"
"I don't think it matters how grand my performance was since the witch is going for the same role I am."
"I understand why you are concerned."
"I'm glad we're on the same page. I don't get how she can still weasel her way into roles and modeling gigs. The night she decided to show her true colors should have ended her career entirely."
"Well, she's acquired enough wealth to have any role she desires."
"It's not fair, not that the acting and modeling worlds were, to begin with, but out of all the other people that could have auditioned for the role of Argentina, it had to be her. She should have stuck to modeling; it would have at least given me a chance to succeed as an actress. Her acting isn't anything to be envied, yet she behaves as if all her 'performances' deserve an award and all the praise in the world. If she is trying to prove that she is better than everyone else she is failing miserably, my grandfather put on greater performances and he was deaf most of his life. ... You've gone quiet again, Stefano."
"… Is now an improper time to mention I'm doing a photo shoot with her tomorrow?"
"… Please tell me you're joking."
"You'd wish I was."
"Why would you ever work with her? You know it never ends well for anyone involved with her. If you need money, you can just come to me."
"She isn't paying me a dime. No, I'm doing this because she asked me to."
"Now I know you're joking."
"You are always telling me to work on being more friendly. So I am simply working on my friendliness."
"I cannot believe you, Stefano."
"Please, there is no need for you to be upset. I am going to make everything better for everyone."
"How is you doing a photoshoot with May going to make anything better for anyone?"
"You just wait and see. I have ways to twist her ugliness into a thing of beauty. Once that is accomplished, everything and everyone tainted by her ugliness will become beautiful as well."
"I wish I could understand your logic. Beauty equating to happiness is a lovely idea, but I'm afraid that's all it is an idea."
"That is true if you are only addressing beauty subjectively. Of course, where one sees beauty, another sees an abomination, but I'm talking about true beauty which no one seems to know anymore. Besides me, of course."
"Oh, and what is true beauty, Mr. Valentini?"
"True beauty… it's the force that objectively reflects the pure essence of creation. One is never born with it, and those who go searching will never find it. It is something that is created from the mind of a creator and molded by their dedicated will. It takes a divine artist to create true beauty. They and anyone who understands their craft, will be the only ones to witness it."
"And have you witnessed true beauty?"
"… Yes, I have… You shall see it as well, Emily. After I create May's true beauty, I will create yours. Though it will not be too difficult, I can already see your true beauty within your eyes."
"… Thank you, Stefano."
"… Well… What do you think of your true beauty?"
"…"
"Please do not go quiet. I promised that we could have a conversation, and we did. You must hold up your end of the deal and answer my question."
"…"
"Do you think it's horrendous, and that's why you refuse to answer?"
"…"
"If you think I did awful, you can tell me. I won't be upset… Perhaps a little, but I won't hold it against you."
"…"
"Or is it so enchantingly gorgeous that you're at a loss for words?... I feel as if you are not responding on purpose. Are you angry with me?... You really shouldn't be if you are. You said it yourself how much I have done for you; I have revealed your true beauty, and you can only stare at me in silence as your response?"
Stefano glared at the woman sitting across from him. She glared back, her gaze callously frigid and depressingly uncaring.
"How cruel of you, Emily…" a frown creased his face as he leaned back in his chair with a deep sigh. "I put my soul into this creation, and you don't even have a grain of appreciation." His model remained hollowly silent, and the artist stiffened his lip. "At least give it another glance." He leaned over the table and turned Emily's cold head around to face his masterpiece. Dancing in a field of vermillion petals was a pale body draped in luminous azure cloth and adorned with a fabulous emerald necklace. A bouquet of dangerously red roses bloomed from her neck, taking the place of her head. The studio lights beamed down on the memorizing creation, illuminating every detail and splotch of drying crimson.
"Is she not a thing to behold?" Stefano inquired, drinking in the captivating sight of his art. "Please, cara, say anything."
"… So, this is the sight of true beauty?"