WUT IT'S BEEN FOUR MONTHS? I guess it has but I worked my butt off to get this out quickly! And it's kinda long.

Request: xXxVampire-HimexXx

Rating: /M (for light blood and character death)/

Pairing: FliqpyxFlipped!Flaky

Now I stopped being fond of this pairing a few months ago, but this oneshot was fun to write! Tedious, but fun. See when I try giving my oneshots a plot they end up long. Warning for some blood, death, and an OOC Flaky.


The air was positively sweltering beneath the city, the subway tunnel a cylinder oven. Apparently the mayor couldn't afford a penny out of his pocket to install fans. Not even the cheap department kind. Without them, the air remained ever still and vaguely reeked of sewer (that stench probably wafted in from the bathroom), perspiration from suited city dwellers, and rust. The heat was only an addition, but mingled and stirred with everything else created a dreadful condition. An atmosphere that clung on them like soaked clothes.

The twenty-something-year-old lifted her hand, a sliver of silver poking out from her coat sleeve. She adjusted the bowie knife without drawing speculation. Not that she was a face to be remembered: just another city girl with a slim figure and small height. But maybe they would remember, maybe her face would jut out in their memories, if she bothered to remove her sunglasses. They never left their spot perched on her sloped nose, however, and if anyone bothered recalling her all they'd recollect was curled hair, white barrettes, and painted lips. They wouldn't remember if she never laid down her incapacitating stare.

The reason: the common people weren't her targets. No, her prey was of higher caliber, an Abnormal. She wouldn't dare harming the lives of innocent, the sight of blood churned her insides and gave her migraines. The animal she strived to slaughter was the only exception. His blood would rain like a warm, crimson downpour, and she wished to be the receiver of that gift. She would rip him to pulpy bits, shred by shred, relishing every second of it.

The woman touched her index finger to her upper lip, middle finger lightly grazing the lower, as a new feeling sprouted in her stomach. The heat was forgotten and interchanged with a freeze. An inexplicable cold.

Yes, her prey was far more difficult in tracking than any ordinary human. He-the actual being was gender neutral, but it had taken the male form in order to blend-was cunning, stealthy, and a tease. There had been so many occurrences which she nearly had him. Her knife was a hair width away from slicing through his chest, she could sense it, when the trail would abruptly go dead. It was then that he infuriated her the most, because her sleight would be wiped clean and she'd start at square one.

Start at investigating aberrant deaths, alterations in disappearances in countless regions, a drastic depletion of local wildlife. It was disgusting what the thing zoned in on, being human or animal, it didn't matter, as long as it was a living, breathing organism.

He knew he angered her. He knew it, and that was why he always presented her chances to reveal him before melting away at the last second.

A pale hand clenched defiantly.

How greatly he irked her. The hatred swelled with each passing day, hatred towards him for robbing all that she cared for. Hatred that he failed to, he was unable to, feel regret for his actions. He had ruined her life, and he couldn't offer the smallest, the least sincere, apology.

Beautiful. Every single one of their pudgy, tender faces. They radiated life, so innocent, but they were wrongfully robbed the chance to survive. All of them. Only she, the luckiest in the eyes of outsiders, survived. She should have been grateful she was alive. But was it really survival if she was broken and alone?

She guided the spoon to an eagerly opened mouth. Smiling at the infant's cheerful giggle, she dabbed at its mouth with a napkin. "You're the only one in this house who can finish their food without too big a mess," she mused, a wider smile pulling across her face. "Everyone else is a bigger baby than you when it comes to eating. You'll have a knack for cleanliness when you're older, I'm sure of that, Petunia." The teen discarded the remaining night's dinner and turned to the table.

The table cover was splattered in soup, again, and she would be the one to wipe up, again. Not to mention the mountain of dishes. She adjusted her weight to her right foot, mimicking her father, "'Can you wash the dishes tonight?' Sure Dad I always wash them anyway. 'Don't take that tone with me! I'm your father!' But I didn't—'You're grounded!'"

She shouldn't expect anything less when there were five other children running amuck. Not when all but two shared different blood, bore from varying parents, but into equally unforgiving worlds. She should stop her complaining. Being the only child whose dad was genetically hers was a blessing.

Without further complaint, she set to work on scrubbing, drying, stacking dishes; beating the crumbs off the table cloth; wiping down oil residue off the stove. Petunia was set to play with a teetering toy and the two heads of emerald spikes were chased away. The same routine, albeit more hasty tonight.

The girl finished her menial tasks as the two boys returned, this time accompanied by an older man.

"Flaky," the man said. He patted down his wrinkled flannel, all while admiring the kitchen. "Thanks for cleaning the kitchen. You know how much a help you are, even when I don't thank you.." He drifted off.

"Er, yeah I know." Flaky absently rubbed her neck. "You don't have to thank me...I'll help as long as I live here."

"I just—"

"Dad. The kids?"

Realization dawning on the man, the children intently listening to every word, he patted them to the back door. "Why don't you go on ahead of us? Shifty make sure to not drop Petunia, and Lifty"-the younger twin was held back-"make sure your brother doesn't try 'setting her free' into the cornfield again."

Shifty cracked a sheepish grin, Lifty nodding diligently, and the two ran out the door. Flaky's father kept his silence until the porch stairs quieted, their scuffling melting into tension.

"So," Flaky mumbled. "Where are Giggles and Lammy? They were really excited to watch the meteor shower with us, it'd suck if they missed it."

"The two are upstairs, said they'd watch from the windowsill. Didn't want to dirty their nightgowns I think."

"Oh."

That died quickly. Quicker than most times, anyway.

In another, almost futile effort to bait a conversation, Flaky coughed. "It's just, when Mom was around meteor watching was sorta a family thing. We'd come together and-"

"But she isn't here," he cut in brusquely. "If the girls want to stay in their room they can. I'm not making them join us."

"All right then! Gosh, don't need to get so defensive." Tucking her chin in, the redhead stared to the checkered floor. "I was just saying."

It wasn't her fault that her mom found another man, one who didn't shelter every stray child they passed. What her dad did was charitable, but one man could only take so want children. Particularly a woman who hadn't wanted children to begin with. She didn't blame her for leaving. The countryside was airless, tight, despite what city folk said about the "vast" room. Living in a home surrounded by endless shucks of corn and sunflowers made her feel contained, a bird with clipped wings.

She regretfully wished her mother could have taken her too. Even if she did leave her only daughter behind, that wasn't enough to douse Flaky's hopes that she would return. Return with money, a ranking position as CEO of an ascending company, and an urge to finally connect with her daughter. The girl had a few fond memories of the women, surely she didn't hate Flaky. Why would her mother reserve that sugary sweet smile for her if she did?

"No, Flaky," he said, apologetic. "I didn't mean for that to come out as mean! I'm not the bad guy in this situation. Really!"

"And you're saying Mom is?" Flaky accused. "If it isn't you, it's her. It's always the other parent that's the villain. What is this, some sappy soap opera? Can you just drop it?"

"We can talk about this. Talk, express what you're feeling, because I can't figure you out in my own," he pleaded towards the end. "You don't have to keep it bottled up!"

Flaky strolled to the backdoor, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "You're so desperate to talk? Go to a therapist, because I really don't have time for this." A breeze smelling of flowers wafted into the kitchen. "Dad, seriously. I would talk, but you just make it too hard to."

"Wait, Flaky."

She subtly flinched as he clasped her thin wrist in an unbreakable hold. When she was a child, she had loved physical connection with her father. Hugs, kisses, comparing how small her hand was in his calloused fingers. Nowadays, it was just..too weird. Those were the arms that once embraced his mother, hands that caressed her in a past life. To have them on her skin, it was as if a white hot iron touched her instead.

The pang in Flaky's chest worsened when she yanked her hand away. Seeing guilt and hurt bloom onto his worn features, wrinkles sagging further, frown lines deepening, she almost felt compelled to pat his back. Say everything was fine, because they were together. Like mom would do.

She couldn't bring herself to, however, and settled for scratching her elbow. "I'm sorry."

"You're too young to be saying those words, don't." Kneading a crick in his shoulder, he muttered something about buying a new lawn mower. "Go enjoy yourself with the meteor shower. I'll ask the girls if they're sure they don't want to come down."

"You don't have-"

"And tell Splendid he doesn't have to sneak around to see you." Flaky jaw snapped shut, a blush sprouting beneath pale, freckled skin. The man smiled at her telltale reaction. "He's a good kid, nice enough, and I know his folk if he gets out of line. You did tell him I have a shotgun beneath my bed, didn't you?"

"W-what!?"

"He's good with kids too, maybe he could babysit for free one day?"

Groaning at the cracked joke, Flaky turned on heel and shut the door. Behind the rattled blinds she distinguished a genuine laugh. Her father could be disagreeable most always, but she couldn't dispute that his laugh warmed her insides. The way he had spoken of Splendid made that warm feeling flee and brought sick feelings instead.

She would definitely be confronting the twins, a mischievous duo, about who had squealed. Both, most likely. They didn't keep their dislike of Splendid eclipsed, nor their affection towards the older girl. Splendid was the Ken doll of the town. Perfect and clever in every way, swooning girl after girl, studious and athletic. The twins were the opposite. It didn't take a rocket scientist to conclude they were made to be enemies.

Their relationship was only made worse when Splendid tried taking them under his wing, act as a big brother or mentor. Lifty and Shifty had dubbed him as unworthy of their sister when he'd taken them to learn about aquatic life in a nearby river, only for him to fall in. She still didn't believe that they hadn't pushed him, no child's face was as innocent as theirs that evening, but Splendid insisted he'd been clumsy.

Flaky paused her train of thought when she saw their little setup.

A threadbare blanket set up beneath the foliage of an oak tree, Lifty and Shifty seated cross-legged, and Petunia babbling between them while they traced out constellations using fingertips. A cliché picture if she asked herself, nothing like the city setting she'd want to see, but its surreal ambience calmed her.

The conversation with her father forgotten, she stepped to hover by them. They hardly glanced at her. It wasn't until she kicked her foot on a disturbed root did they note her.

"Guys," a terse start partnered with a forced smile. "Which one of you told dad about Splendid."

The last time they looked content was then. They loved riling me up. Riling Splendid up when he didn't notice how much they hated him. Precious children, hair slicked down and eyes listless. Full lips gasping in a lost air. Puddles, puddles and stains absorbed by the rug.

The subway rolled in destructively. The racket it stirred drowned out her heightening anxiety, snapped her from a state of limbo, calmed her increasing gasps before others could perceive.

The women flipped out a palm-sized mirror. Her skin had paled considerably and given her the hue of a paper doll. Beads of sweat collected on her brow, glistening against her forehead when the lowlight struck her. Her blush remained intact, and with a quick swipe of her tongue her lips regained their moisturized sheen.

She had almost lost herself. The woman had been immersed in happier times, the pleasant years leading up to the incident, and that violated rule number one: Don't look at the past when he's so close in the present. She had to stop doing that. The risk was losing it altogether, becoming unstable and dangerous to the innocents around her, becoming submerged in an insatiable thirst for vengeance and his blood. It wouldn't be her fault that they weren't him! If he could only shoulder the consequence of his sins and greet death with a smile, innocents wouldn't fear dying by her hand.

She didn't like playing God. Not when the price was so high.

Shapeless bundles around her hustled forward into the congested incubation and scrambled for empty seat. Flaky followed suit and alighted down between vacant seats, tugging away a leather glove from her hand. She had retrieved a magazine, laminated and smelling of perfume samples, and reclined when the following stop boarded. Her attention to the magazine went undisturbed as the seat to her left became occupied.

Innocents had a scent to them; distinctive and bland. When she came into contact with those unlike innocents, those like her, there was an involuntary, reflective tension of her toned muscle. A buzzing would tip into her head-what she linked to a satellite. When in vicinity of Abnormals, their scent would dance on her taste buds. The first appetizer to the other's taste. Innocents didn't have a taste so she'd never been drawn to them, but when the ping alerted, she glanced to the filled seat.

Rugged shoes that had lost their shine years ago met cargo pants the shade of night; traveling up was a thin moss-dyed V-neck drawn tightly over muscle; going further, there was an array of scars blemishing otherwise smooth collarbones. The woman backtracked at the casual smirk she met. The marrow in her bones solidified at the sudden cold, her fingers shaking to flip the magazine page. She failed at thumbing through with her quivering, jerky moves.

That was when the man besides her intruded her space, an arm deliberately brushing hers, and flipped the page. Gloved hands, a knowing smirk, scars on display and who knows where else. Flaky dry swallowed.

"What you reading there, girl?"

These words that heralded the death chimes, a rush of emotions pressuring down on her ribs, which unlocked the chained up disgust. Steaming vile climbed up her throat and caused her torso to lurch. She had to press a two fingers on her lips to prevent the regurgitation from spewing.

Her vomit was bitter and unpleasant to say least, but she forced it down and popped a mint before confronting the man. He was amused by her display, his head tilted by a few degrees.

"This one of those new Cosmopolitan mags?" he said unconcernedly. "I haven't read any personally, and can just tell you the name from the billboards around the city."

"Huh." She had dreamed of this moment for eight long years, and now that she was presented the opportunity on a silver platter, she couldn't react. Too many witnesses, there would be interrogations, neither of them could attract attention. It'd be too risky if she drew her knife now.

"Huh is right. When you were younger, I would have hardly thought of you as a girl for these types of magazines~"

Damp and warm. Hot and so close. She needed him, needed him to relieve the heat between her legs and the tumult in her chest. So close. Friction, it was all she could remember. She needed more friction. The only comprehendible thought in her muddled brain was to get more of the delicious heat.

Her father was already asleep, and boy did he slip into a coma when night fell. He wouldn't hear a rampaging elephant herd if they passed over his head. Or in this case the room across the hall. Flaky peered up and down the hall for the third time, squinting against the dimness and counting how many shut doors there were. Dad and Petunia shared a room, Lifty and Shifty bunked together, and Lammy and Giggles shared the attic view. Each door was sealed tightly, and she in turn pressed hers shut. She locked it agonizingly slow and diligently listened for the smallest of mouse squeaks.

The meteor shower had been a sight for sore eyes. Dozens of bright stars, seemingly skating across the skies. Their lifespans lasted from one horizon line to the other, and when they reached the end, they died out. There was no time to mourn a lost beauty as more came to replace the absent. Her mother had said that everything became old and when it did, a new substance came to replace it so the beauty would live on. It did, even if only for two hours afterwards.

The twins had become drowsy somewhere along the forty minute mark. Petunia hadn't made it past twenty-five minutes. Taking responsibility, fully aware that the three would succumb to sleep before the show ended, Flaky had taken the reluctant children to their rooms. Lammy and Giggles had managed a conscious state for another half hour before her father pronounced them as "sleeping like logs." She didn't blame them, seeing how the shower had ended at nearly one a.m., but that didn't stop her from staying out.

Splendid had arrived shortly, a tender kiss shared before he pulled her from the house's view. They had put a decent enough distance from themselves and the house, encircled by corn stalks and drying husks. It was the two and little else, save for humid breath on skin and approving mewls.

She could still feel his hands on her waist, trailing down her clothes and fondling through a cotton. They needed to be discarded, torn apart, thrown away, she didn't care. In the moment everything revolved around Splendid and how he made her head swim by just breathing near her. His taste and bakery smell could make her drunk, an alcohol she was addicted to.

Ruefully, the sixteen-year-old had pulled back from the flustered, panting form of the neighbour's son. Her father had permitted their togetherness but if he were to find their disheveled bodies conjoined, he would send her away to some land even drearier than their current town. She'd become the town whore, Splendid would be moved across the country, and they'd never be allowed to converse again. Choosing to be cautious rather than giving into her carnal urges, they had concocted a plan to meet.

And that was where she was headed to now.

Flaky tiptoed to the window overlooking the backyard, avoiding the creakiest of floorboards. She unlatched and swung open the panels, the October air chilling her nose. Briskly smiling, she maneuvered down the sloping roof and stepped onto a thick tree branch. The rest was simple (childhood her had climbed the oak more times than she could count, thanks to having a gangly body and above natural strength).


Corn stalks swayed and granted a path to the teen. She could navigate these fields from memory, but it wasn't memory she relied on.

"Splendid?" Flaky called, faintly spooked by the atmosphere. She might have known these fields to the smallest dip, but that didn't mean she knew what lurked in the night. "Splendid, are you here yet?"

A dry corn husk cracked east of her. Flaky whipped her head to the disturbance, eyes darting from stalk to stalk. In one sliver of moonlight, she blamed her tired eyes for the mass retracting into the dark. The rustling was her imagination. As was the glint reflecting back at her (a raccoon dropped its scrap of tin she was convinced). Flaky steeled her nerves with a hitched breath. There was one thing that couldn't have been her mind playing tricks, one thing whose vibrancy contrasted the shadows.

A set of yellow peepers.

She squinted against the minimal lighting and they were gone. The form crouching at the base of corn stalks was absent, leaving no evidence of its existence. Dissipated into the air. She scanned the stalks, found they remained immobile, and chastised herself for the fabrication. A fabrication so brilliant that the image stayed plastered on her eyelids. She blinked and saw yellow orbs, but when she opened them she saw only night.

"H-hey! Flaky! Psst!"

Flaky jostled, alert on her surroundings and momentarily overlooking...whatever it was. She had been entirely engrossed, dedicating every ounce of attention in her being, to the animal (only an animal, she soothed herself) that she'd forgotten who'd come to meet her.

"Splendid!" Throwing a last look back, she jogged to meet her boyfriend. She welcomed the protecting hug, inhaling in the delectable baked bread smell lingering on his clothes. Her eyelids fluttered open for a nanosecond and she would swear she saw eyes identical to the ones before.

But they were gone when Splendid planted an affectionate kiss on her nose.

Those eyes bring the same feelings these man's do. A cross between fear, curiosity, and a siren hold on them. They're hideous, repulsive, and make me want to vomit. Yet when I gaze into them I find myself craving his touch, a want to exhibit myself to him, I feel my body and mind melting into those molten pools. They make me feel conflicted and something tells me he likes that. He wants me to hurt myself for him, but that's the charm of Abnormal eyes.

I should know the effect. I've seen it whenever I pierce an Innocent with my gaze.

"Why are you here?" Dammit, her voice was choked and congested. Naturalborn Abnormals wouldn't feel the slightest bit woozy in this situation. She wasn't a naturalborn, she reminded, and was the product she got from enlisting a small town genius, a mutt in their cruel-beautiful world. "You don't go out in public because I'll find you. You're scared I'll kill you."

"Oh, is that what you've been thinking?" A sultry voice that sent shivers through her. "Sorry to burst you're bubble, but I had to go out and buy a few things. I thought I'd pay you a visit preceding my return into 'hiding.'"

"You picked somewhere populated to irk me, didn't you?" It wasn't a question if she knew the answer.

"Now why would you think that? Can't I visit my favourite toy without these silly accusations?" He frowned. "I'm hurt, Flakers, because I thought you'd be happy to see me. I thought you'd be ecstatic, considering how we haven't had a nice talk in a while."

"We've never had a nice talk. If you're referring to a one-sided, sadistic commentary from yourself, then it's been a long eight years. And eight years gives a person a hell of a lot of time to brood."

He touched his heart, feigning hurt. "Ouch, that went straight to my heart Fla-"

"Cut the act, Fliqpy," she said. "You never fooled me and you're not going to now. You may be good at lying to others, but I can see through your facade. God, you don't even have a heart, so don't start with that."

Fliqpy's demeanor slipped out of its playful, teasing act and into the snarky, snide manner she remembered. He flung an arm on the back of her seat and kicked his leg up, ankle crossing his knee, giving up on the entire farce. She knew him, predicted his moves and words, because he haunted her dreams for a near decade. He only wished that she would play along instead of hard to get. Even if hard to get proved to be more gratifying.

"Smarter than you were at age sixteen, aye?"

Flaky misdirected her searing glare to the subway's window. "Wouldn't you like me to admit my stupidity? Sucks for you that I've gotten more stubborn along with wiser, and a few other qualities."

"You know what would be great? You showing me these qualities over a cup of coffee at my place. I could see your approximate improvement~ wouldn't that be fun?"

"Are you inviting me over?" Most definite that this wasn't how their second meet was to spiral, she rubbed her thumb on the hidden blade's surface. "If that's the case, I'd have to turn down your request. You know my reasons why."

Fliqpy smirked at her words steadily, unnoticeably rising octaves. Her lips struggled when forming each word, and he detected that the movement in her sleeve wasn't fidgeting. "Oh really now? It's a good thing this wasn't an invite, but rather a request. One you can't deny, at that.

"Once you ditch the knife in your sleeve, of course."

Damn him, Flaky thought, stopping her thumb. She glared out the window the ride's remainder and had to clench her jaw to stop her grinding teeth. He was right here, in the open, leaving himself unprotected, and she couldn't react because murdering someone-something-in public was prohibited in their world. Killing was an affair to do privately, keep it hidden from the Innocents and she wouldn't be punishable.

She would damn that rule too and act out of accordance to the rules, if the subway hadn't stopped. The automatic doors opened, a steady stream of passengers dismounting and boarding encouraging her to stand. Fliqpy stood as well and she had a sickening feeling this was his stop.

"Shall we, darling~?" Fliqpy smiled perversely, his open palm that of a gentleman. Two personalities clashed into one, the dominant being the sadistic fuck she abhorred. She knew nothing of the other besides it being weak and dependant, but since it was part of Fliqpy, she hated it. "Flakers, come."

Come, a dog's command.

Well, call her a dog because she obeyed. The woman stood and placed a gloved hand in his, fingertips ghosting over his palm. There was no way in absolute hell she would make actual contact if it wasn't her suffocating him.

Resigned, Flaky disembarked with the monster she planned to murder.

It was a scream. One, two, three seconds of shock and the air was alive with screams. There were the wails of a baby and she knew exactly where the shrieks derived from. The former warmth was gone, cold dread drenching her, and she flailed to escape the entanglement of sheets. Hot sweat cooled on her neck and dribbled down her spine, heated pants turned painful when she ran barefoot down the road, a navy sweater draped on her shoulders the only clothing article she wore.

Flaky ran up the porch and into the eerily quiet house, the door ripped from its hinges and tossed precariously in the hall. She violently, frantically, inspected the hall. Picture frames torn from walls lay shattered on the floor, the furniture piled in shambles, dirt tracked on her mother's antique rug. The house cat was strewn in the corner, and she didn't have to investigate to know it was dead. The blood splattered around it said it all.

"Dad?! Dad!" Flaky cried urgently. "Dad can you hear me?! It's Flaky, answer me!"

She ran up the stairs, uncaring of the thunderous steps she took. Her screams went unanswered. Each second her blood solidified into lead, dragging her down; her feet scuffed against the steps and she didn't bother raising them higher.

"Dad answer! Don't be like mom and n-never answer when I call! Answer!"

The screams, the kicked in door, the damage...the blood. This was a story taken from a newspaper, not a regular day in her life. This could be a nightmare that she'd wake up from. She had fallen asleep while waiting for Splendid, the night's dinner had digested badly and given her aches, the pains that collected in her stomach.

Flaky barged into her father's bedroom, gasping and gripping the door sill. "D-dad..?" she croaked. "A-are you here? D-Dad?"

His room was a disarray. Torn pillows bled feathers, white and soft, over the room's entirety. Clothes spewed from an overturned dresser, glass from its mirror dazzling, glinting in the fluorescent moonshine. Her mother's old curtains (the one's dad loved) were yanked from an open window, slashed scraps of fabric littering his bed and floor.

The irrational analogy of a New Year's party popper flashed her mind.

"Daddy?-"

That was when she saw him. His faded shirt stained beyond repair with blood, blue and white striped pants ripped, and a face that said utter peace despite the blood. Speechless, she could only stare. The tranquility was haunting, black bruises formed under maroon speckles, and it was wishful thinking to believe that he died placidly. The stab wounds in his chest told her otherwise.

Her eyes followed his right arm. It was outstretched, hand open, and seemingly reaching for the crib.

The baby crib.

Petunia's crib.

Flaky's heart clenched painfully and she shielded her face. No, she didn't want to witness that. She couldn't bear to see what had become of her youngest sister. Her father's corpse was a symbol of what hell had gone down, and she couldn't handle seeing, knowing, that the baby had met a similar fate. She fled the room, the sick temptation creeping up to see the tiny mangled body, with her hands pinching at her cheeks.

"L-Lifty?! Shifty!" The names erupted from her throat hopelessly. "G-guys! Guys w-wake up w-we have to g-g-go!"

The door to the twin's room was opened. No twins, only two empty bunk beds, tousled sheets, and signs of struggle. Their toys-stolen from numerous town's children-were strewn randomly, some with broken parts and dismembered arms or legs. Though neater than her father's room, the lack of bodies, dead or alive, was unsettling.

Flaky settled deeper into a fear induced trauma with each open door. Life was full of closed rooms, but if these were what the rooms appeared like when opened, she rather they remained sealed. She bit down on her thumb to keep from screaming, coming to her senses when a metallic taste flooded over her tongue. Her blood was enough to calm herself, Flaky thought bitterly, while their blood steadily made her world collapse.

Her voice was hoarse when she arrived at the attic ladder. Apprehending the scene taken from a nightmare, the girl tried one last futile attempt to call. "L-Lifty..Shifty..Giggles..L-Lammy? Are you g-guys okay?..."

Alabaster hands quaked as lithe fingers gripped splintery steps. Each move, each stretch of her hand, each raise of her legs, throbbed painfully. She hadn't been hurt save for the cuts in her bare feet, but she was finding it difficult to inhale without rasping. Her ribs ached and her cheeks were sore from her clawing.

I don't want to know, I don't want to know if they're...I have to push the attic door open, but I can't. It feels too heavy, like it's glued down. Why is my arm shaking this badly...

Fingers twitched and she pushed. Pushed again. One more push and she was confident it wasn't her failing strength that made the door heavy. There was an object barricading her entrance; the fourth push and the object shifted, sliding to the floor to grant access. Flaky lifted the door, not daring to look at the weighty object. She had a slight idea of what it could be.

They had been so beautiful. The five children, her father, their house and lives. Selfishly, she had desired an unattainable life of adventure, popularity, and change. She fantasized a mother she could hardly remember, always affluent and world renowned in her delusions, who'd whisk her away from these yellow fields. They'd live atop the world, martini glass in hand, and catch up on the lost years. The older women would cherish her as the only princess in the universe, doting on her every accomplishment, bestowing her the most precious gifts accessible. Flaky would be happy then.

The only girl in the spotlight. The only child for her parents to love. The only treasure they'd throw their lives away for.

Selfishly, she had wanted what she couldn't have. And like most selfish people, she got her wish. Now, as the only child standing, she tore at her scalp and screamed incoherent words. She fell to her knees, hitting the ground repeatedly with bruising fists. Uncensored screams, animalistic wails, and convulsions. It was life, and she had received an undesirable fate at that.

Alone, Flaky sat beneath the rafters, where three swaying bodies hung. The fourth body she clung too fiercely, burying her nose in the little girl's purple curls and disregarding the malodor of death.

I can never trust him. I can never forgive him. The only thing I crave for is retribution for his sins, and his disgusting head to be pinned on my wall. I'll tear him open. Do what he did go each of my family members: hang, stab, disembowel, dismember, skin. It is my dying wish, for if I succeed, I will most likely have some fatalities of my own. The pain is worth it, though.

The woman discarded her sunglasses upon entering his apartment. Repulsed by its quaint air, by how human he could act, she took her seat on an obsidian couch.

Fliqpy was occupying the kitchen, concocting a drink he promised would take her to new highs. After some idle viewing of his domestic home, Flaky looked up to see him waltz in. Two drinks the colour of rum were placed on the table.

"Let me take a guess." Flaky picked the cup set closet to him. "You put something in my drink? Well, I wasn't going to drink it anyway, but might as well take precautions."

"We're a little rude today," Fliqpy sipped the drink complacently. "Oh yes, because rum with a dash of basil and some blueberries spells poison. You're fucking ridiculous."

Flaky wiped her fingers on her skirt, shoving the drink further away. A low obscenity from Fliqpy's part and he lowered his drink. "Fine, you caught me. I might've added some rat shit in your drink, didn't think you'd notice."

"Why are you doing this?" Flaky asked, ignoring his last comment. "Why have you invited me into your house, let down your guard, and expected me to sit here and not kill you? You're gambling a hefty price, and the chances aren't looking in your favour."

"Why? I've always been interested in you. Call it infatuation, but you piqued my interest that night outside your house." He plopped a blueberry in his mouth, holding it between top and bottom teeth then chewing. Contemplating his words, he tried again. "I want to get to know you."

The woman bristled. She brushed the knife along her thumb. "You want to get to know me?" she hissed angrily. "You wanted to get to know me and that drove you to murder everything I love? Everything I ever..you're a twisted son of a bitch. I don't know what goes on in that sick head of yours, but I can't wait to bust it open and find out."

Fliqpy finished his drink, unperturbed. "How's Splendid?"

"Splendid?" The name, one which hadn't skimmed her lips since that night. The name she'd utter with love, passion, need. Taken from her past life and chained away, she refused to remember. Hated to remember. Splendid. "How is he?" Flaky questioned emotionlessly. "You should know, you're the one who killed him."

She was immobilized, embracing the little body with a vice-like grip. Call it trauma, but it hadn't fully dawned on her that she would be alone in this world. Her entire family had been massacred in one night, and she hadn't even said goodnight to them. Stupidly, thinking on of her needs, she'd locked herself away without a mere "sweet dreams." This was entirely her fault. If only she had called goodnight, this would have been prevented...

The violent locks tickled her cheeks and nose. Flaky retracted, crimson soaking into her sweater-Splendid's sweater-diamonds of water collecting in her eyes. She laid the body down, oh how Lammy looked like she only slumbered, and squeezed her right wrist. Shimmering droplets collected in her palm, the teen shuddering. She choked back pained gargles.

"W-what have I done," Flaky demanded, to which no one replied. "What have I..? W-who..! Who! Who?!"

Whoever had done this, Flaky thought, she would find them. If it took her entire life to track them, if she had to meet the ends of the earth, if lives had to be endangered, she would find them. Somehow, she would bring them into submission, encourage their screams, get payback for their transgressions. She pledged to avenge her family. Her job now was to kill whoever dared to intrude on her life.

"I know y-you're still somewhere close. I know you haven't left yet. You want to s-see me suffer." Flaky wiped her tears and courageously stood, speaking into cupped hands to amplify her threat. "You k-know what? You may have won now, but I will find you! I will kill you! Do you hear me?! I won't stop until I have you! I w-won't stop! Never!"

Never, I will not cease until whoever did this is exterminated.

Dead calmness. A taunting reminder that there truly was no one to heed her. She foolishly believed the murderer would stay, if only to sneer at her. If he remained, surely she would be target. He would run out, yellow eyes piercing, and strike her defenseless.

Wait, why had she imagined him with yellow eyes? The only time she is seen such abnormal eyes was-

The eyes in the field.

They were too real, far too stunning, for her to have imagined. They had been watching her, following her every movement, seemed captivated by her. Someone had known she was meeting Splendid. Some creep had been positioned outside her house, eavesdropped on the couple's conversation. That person had seen them get intimate, but hadn't chosen to kill her then. She felt violated. She felt the eyes on her skin once again.

Flaky bit her lip.

On the first floor, there came calls of her name. They bounced off the walls, resonating to where she stood paralyzed. She knew who it was: Splendid. Her boyfriend had been concerned at the shrieks, but she strictly ordered him to inform the police and not go to find her. Splendid always had to be the hero. Why couldn't he understand that there was a line, ever-so thin, between being heroic and being a dolt? Entering the house of a murder scene, yelling when whoever was responsible could be lurking, crossed the line of idiocy.

That made her an idiot, too, because she hollered back.

"Splendid get out!" She was already zipping down the ladder. Fear for her boyfriend's safety struck her, fear that he'd be snatched away. That he'd end up in bloody ribbons like her family. "You need to go! I'll b-be right behind you, just get out!"

Her feet met the second landing and she went for the stairs. Standing at the last step to meet her, Splendid mirrored her fear. A concerned sigh whispered on her ear as they collided, prompting Flaky to claw her fingers into his shirt, pitiful sobs intermixed with panicked pleas. She wanted to run but Splendid wouldn't budge.

"W-we have to go get the p-police, right now. W-we c-can't stay! He's still h-here!"

Splendid took her face in his hands. "Flaky," he calmly said, "what happened? Where are your-"

"Dammit Splendid this isn't the time!" The redhead smacked his hands away. "You think we're safe?! We are not safe! Now isn't the time for questions! You're such an i-idiot sometimes!"

Enough was enough, she thought. Latching onto his arm she dragged him forward, ignoring any questions. They were almost out the door, she could smell savoury corn on the night wind, when a subtle movement on the porch stopped her. A booted foot inched forward in the doorway. She flinched at the polished tip protruding from the door's corner; it was him. The murderer. Obstructing their exit.

"No...Splendid look out!"

Flaky ducked as a bowie knife slashed over her head. It skimmed her hair and missed her, but it certainly got one victim.

While Flaky hit the floor, Splendid hardly had time for a reaction. The knife had been aimed for Flaky's head, and since she was shorter for her age, it was positioned for his chest. In a fluid puncture it had slid between two ribs. It missed his heart, being on the opposite side, that didn't stop him from wretching painfully. His hands flew to the knife, he coughed, and grew wide eyed as his perpetrator crossed the threshold.

Flaky looked in time to see the murderer (he has yellow eyes, she cringed) extract his tool. He grabbed Splendid by his collar and rammed him into the wall. The knife's blade was sadistically trailed from the teen's ear to his chin, the man's countenance exaggerating into a psychotic grin. Then, he spoke, and its gravelly sound made her blood run cold.

"Ah, trying to do a heroic deed? Planning to save your little girlfriend? But isn't it a shame that life has many unexpected turns, me being one of them." He chuckled. "It's her you should be angry at. If she had taken the knife, I might have let you go. You weren't part of this family, after all."

"S-stop!"

The man eyes flickered to her, raking over her scantily dressed body. He met her watery stare and smiled. "Yes?"

"L-let him go! Let him g-go." Flaky's knees wracked uncontrollably when she stood, the wall her support. "I d-don't know what you want with me, but Splendid isn't part of this! Neither was anyone in my family!" She tugged down the sweater, thanking that it passed her mid-thigh.

Splendid whined under the man's hold. His expression was glazed over due to the loss of blood and he squirmed weakly. Flaky averted her concern, putting on an intimidating front. Splendid had a family to go home to, she had none. It'd be best if she were the one who..who was put to rest. She'd never forgive herself if Splendid suffered this fate.

"Please," she begged, defeated. "I don't want to see h-him like that. If it's me you came for, then do it. I-I won't run."

"F-Flaky don't-" Splendid bit and skin of his lips, his sentence unfinished. The man had taken the knife and plunged it into his shoulder without a word. Each twist caused his nerves to scream, the further it dug in the more violent his tremors would be, the more blood would bathe his arm. "F-Flaky run!"

She couldn't. The murderer already loomed over her shrinking self, abandoning his knife in Splendid's shoulder. He stooped down and grabbed a glass shard. An index finger motioned to close the distance. "You're saying you don't want to see your boyfriend in pain?"

Flaky did nothing.

"Then maybe," he brought the glass shard closer, his breath on her opened lips, "you shouldn't see at all."

"The world is an ugly place," the bastard said after plunging the shard into her eye. She screamed and caught the pooling blood in her hands, howling when he pinned her and opened her second eye. "It would be better if you were blind. Maybe then you wouldn't shed as many tears."

The deed done, he left her to return to Splendid. Lying on the cold hard ground, Flaky couldn't distinguish the blood from tears. Her world was black, but her hearing was perfect. She listened to the garbles of her boyfriend stop, the thumping steps and a light goodbye, and the ambulance sirens. Bloody, blind, and surrounded by death, she held strong to the pledge.

Kill him. She would kill him even if it killed her.

Fliqpy was done with her drink by the time her flashback ended. She sat with renewed hate. She touched her wet eyes, the eyes which Sniffles had given her. Sensitive to light but created to mimic Fliqpy's, the golden orbs served their purpose. These were what fueled her to bring vengeance. The reminiscence to the horrible things done.

Every time she looked into a mirror she saw a monster, and she wouldn't give up until the eyes similar to hers were dinged. When he died, she would remove the last of his existence herself. She vowed it.

"How was memory lane?" Fliqpy asked, slightly smirking.

Leaving the question unanswered, Flaky stood. She pulled the knife from her sleeve and angled it at him. Her eyes were slanted down, darkened under her hair. Fliqpy was irritatingly collected, merely glancing at the knife.

"I'm going to kill you." For them.

Screaming, Flaky launched herself at his exposed neck. For them. Anything she would do, for them. If it meant searching for this man for eight years, she did it. If it meant honing her skills by murdering other notorious killers, she did it. If it meant tearing her eyes out when this was resolved, she would do it.


*gargling* this took three days to write and I'm sure there are a bunch of plot holes. Wooah got lazy for a proper ending, but don't blame me.

If anyone noticed, this was inspired by the Jane/Jeff creepypasta relationship. I know there wasn't much blood, but I really got tired and wanted this out fast for you guys (plus gore is hard to write). There also wasn't much FliqpyxFlipped!Flaky (yus she was flipped you stfu if you expected me to state it blatantly) and more Past!SplendidxFlaky but..I already wrote it D:

Grr sometimes I hate oneshots so much because I have ideas and they just don't fit skcgdkxhan.

Remember to drop a request if you want (even though I looked back and saw I said requests stopped, you can overlook that)! And anyone else notice how much my style has changed from the first oneshot? o3o'