Disclaimer and A/N: I do not own any characters mentioned in the story.
Genre: Horror/Comfort
Rating: T/M for reasons
Inspired from the first chapter of TheWeirdOneCH's "Tales from a Phantom, or Fenton" Go read it and review when you get the chance. But for now, enjoy!
Growing up
What happened with little and innocent Jazzy?
It starts with their screams.
Screams of joy, excitement stomping to the basement below. Pickets of words swim into her ears.
We caught the ghost boy!
Strap it on the table!
Hand me the scalpel!
Stay still ecto-scum!
She hears his questions, his explanations, his pleas. They do not listen. They never listened.
It ends with their screams.
She's standing over them, hands sticky and warm. She hears their questions, their explanations, their pleas. She does not listen. They never listened.
They ruined her life, her brother's. Her innocent baby brother...
She's staring at him now. Observing how he has passed out from the shock and pain. How pale he is in his weak glow. How much green is dripping from his grip on her knife tightens. How could anyone do this to a child? Danny's not the one who needs to be dissected and studied. Its her parents here that need to be strapped up instead. She shakes her head at the last thought.
These aren't their parents. These are monsters. And their parents taught them what to do with monsters.
Rip them apart molecule by molecule!
She hacks away, again and again. More orange flecks and flesh fly on her face, the squelching sound of pumpkins smashing in her ears. It's already long dead, but she has to continue. Dad would be so proud.
She goes slower on the last one, running the blade down it's body to make a deep 'Y'. It matches her brother's perfectly.
She's doing this for justice, for Danny, for freedom.
And now they were free.
The thought strikes her like lighting, and she can't help but cry, shoulders shaking with relief after all these years. She drinks the words again and again, too sweet to ignore.
Danny and I are free.
But she wasn't done yet. There's still more to do.
It takes awhile for her brother to come around. A few people have already arrived, staring at the remains of her work. She accepts their terrified looks. Good, they're seeing the truth. Who the real monsters were. Danny hovers above.
Did you do this?
His voice is hollow, disbelieving. She nods, holding the knife up for proof.
Suddenly she's on the ground, bounded by sticky green ectoplasm. Danny crouches nearby, green eyes glowing on the brink of tears.
Why?
She laughs at that. Oh, her baby brother was so clueless sometimes.
Why?
The word echoes in her head like a broken record, spinning round and round. She's laughing all the same. Wasn't it obvious?
She has been called many things. Good, brilliant, even an angel. But now...
Murderer
It wasn't murder she did. It was necessary, instinct. It was survival.
Murderer
But yet she was. She took away a life. Their blood stains her little hands.
Murderer
She knows her brother is thinking this. Why else would she be tied up? Every time he looks at her, the expression is clear.
Murderer
Her anger rises. Even when they were dead, those monsters still ruin her life. They took away her innocence, they made her this.
Murderer
"I'm sorry" he whispers, the first words in a long time. Is it genuine, or from pity? She's too tired to tell. But she can see how red his eyes are from crying, and hears the sobs of a broken heart. Guilt swallows her up. She hates making him cry, she hates them for making him feel like this. Making her feel like this.
"I'm sorry too."
Murderer
This wasn't going to be the last time she would be called that. But it would be the last time those monsters messed with their lives. Any lives for that matter. She would make sure of that.