Halloween and horror? No thanks, I'll go for the depression that entrails eating two thousand tonnes of leftover candy!
Heya folks it's Watermalone here with chapter two of Silhouettes!
I realized my intros have been getting a bit long and drawn out so I'll try to speed things along for the future.
Without further ado, here is chapter two, I warn you, there will be some... less than settling topics in here, rated T of course.
So apparently the people at Disney aren't even allowed to read fanfictions, so what's the point of me even mentioning that I don't own SVTFOE?
A tiny grin curved his lips. "Go... go home... run... leave..." His eyes closed. His last breath escaped into the air, a small wisp, floating aimlessly, carrying the last cracked piece of his soul to the heavens. His hand fell limp in Star's lap.
The sirens drew near. Police, they were after the assailants.
He.. he couldn't be gone right? There was no way... he didn't... Any second now... he would spring back up, laughing with that adorably flashy grin telling her off about how she was gullible and... trusting... and…
No. He was gone. The cruelty of life... had taken him.
And his last words...
Star slowly released his head, letting him down on the ground gently. Wiping her eyes, she stood up, still facing his lifeless body.
"I promise, Marco."
She sprinted off, away from the cries of police cars breaking through the night.
Marco felt cold. His arms and legs had been numbed long ago. The only warmth he felt was his blood, slowly draining from his body, mixing in with the fresh rain water that surrounded his soon-to-be corpse.
An old dampened newspaper fluttered in the cool night breeze. Its headline flashed before him, etching itself a lasting memory into his mind.
Wanted: Marco Diaz for the murder of Raphael and Angie Diaz
"You don't deserve this..."
His thoughts dissipated into his surroundings before everything faded to black.
(2 Years Ago)
*BANG*
16-year old Marco jolted awake. His heart hammered inside his chest, threatening to bust its way out of its cage.
He looked around the dark room. No signs of immediate danger... Groaning, he flopped back down onto his pillow, staring into the dark abyss.
His eyes eventually wandered over to the bright LED screen of his cell phone, flashing the time, currently 2:17AM as well as... A message?
Curious, he stared at the bright text on the screen.
"Downstairs, now." -Mom
"Aw fuck." He reluctantly rose from the soft comfort of his bedspread and made his way out to the main hallway.
"What do you want mom?" He groggily rubbed his eyes as he strode down the spiral staircase to the grand living room.
"Marco Ubaldo Diaz! How many times have we told you to put away your skateboard?!"
Marco stared at the utter destruction before him. His father, Raphael Diaz, sat on the couch, rubbing the back of his head in pain. His skateboard was lodged beneath the dining room table at the far side of the house, and the coffee table was smashed in half, wooden splinters scattered everywhere. His mother stood before the base of the staircase, arms crossed.
They did not look happy.
"Whoa..."
"Yes, 'whoa' indeed." His mother mocked his tone. "After all of this, all you can say for yourself is 'whoa'?"
"Hey look if dad wasn-"
"Don't talk back to your mother." Cold and stern, Marco's heart immediately plummeted. He clenched his jaw and fists, cheeks heating red at the angry retort.
"Marco," His mother began, noticing the rage building in their son. "We're not trying to get mad here, but this is completely irresponsible behavior and-"
"AND WHAT?" His voice rose to levels beyond loud, his parents cringed at his outburst.
His father continued, "and someone got hurt, me." He pointed at himself. "We need you to grow up, son, and small things like these just-"
"Just make me look like a disappointment." Marco finished flatly. "Is that all I am to you guys? A DISAPPOINTMENT?"
"Marco!" Realizing their expressions, he felt like he had been shot in the gut.
"...Whatever. I'm going... I'm going back to bed!"
"Son!" His mother began to give chase, but was stopped by his father's hand on her shoulder. He shook his head.
"Let him be, Angie, he's a good boy, he just needs space." His mother's expression softened to concern.
Marco slammed his room door shut and dove beneath the bed covers. This had been the third time he had gotten himself yelled at this week. It was all just so suffocating! They didn't understand him! He was a kid, and they were putting so much pressure on him to 'grow up' and be 'proper'. It wasn't fair! He didn't mean to leave his skateboard there, it was an accident...
He sighed. Maybe he should have apologized. They meant well, of course, but it just seems whenever he said that he was sorry, they found another reason to be furious. A never ending cycle of repentance and anger...
Grabbing his pillow, he screamed into it, all the frustration pent up inside his mind spilt onto its soft, feathery surface.
One day, he vowed, I'll leave this place and never come back…
(Meanwhile downstairs)
Angie Diaz stared at her steaming mug of freshly steeped tea. The wisps of heat slowly rose into the air, only to evaporate seconds later, their watery essence never to be seen again.
"Dear?" Raphael deterred his vision from a cup of coffee.
"Yes?"
She took a deep breath. "Are we doing the right thing?"
"You mean with Marco?" Her look of worry answered the question immediately.
"I feel... I feel like we've been a bit harsh on him lately..."
Raphael remained silent.
"Is... is this our fault?"
His ears perked up. "Angie, darling, of course it's not. But he's a growing boy and he sometimes just needs to figure things out in his own."
Her expression was unchanging. He scooted over closer to her and wrapped an arm lovingly around her shoulders, allowing her head to rest on his shoulder.
"He'll be fine, like I said, he's got a good heart." Gently, he kissed her forehead, earning him the smallest smile from her. "Now let's go to bed, we have the group rally tomorrow."
The twin mugs stayed untouched as the lights flicked off, diminishing the last bit of warmth emanating from them.
(The following night)
Marco tossed and turned about. His feverish attempts at falling asleep were massively outperformed by the deep guilt that was buried within the frenzy of emotions that clouded his judgment.
He didn't apologize to his parents that night.
He grumbled to himself out of frustration. Once again, Marco was left home alone, as his parents were attending one of their regular "activist meetings". Something to do with citizens against local corruption in metropolitan court, politics, and economy.
While the topic piqued his interest, he wouldn't be caught dead attending a large meeting packed to the brim with adults, especially his parents. At the moment, he couldn't stand seeing them one more time.
The guilt slowly seeped its way through the hardened cracks in his heart. No... he loved his parents. But they don't seem to care. Of course they do, they just want what's best for him. He doesn't want their best he wants his! They're his parents. They're a nuisance.
The internal struggle slowly died in his mind, diminishing along with his last wills to find resolve to this conflict.
*BANG!*
Marco shot upwards from slumber to what sounded like a bowling ball landing on hardwood. Loud, sudden, and brutal.
His vision, still obscured by the sudden transition, scanned his surrounding scenery. Pitch black, of course.
But no danger.
He laid back down to rest, however, not without a sense that something was... missing...
He glanced at the direction of his nightstand, dark as every other part of the room. No bright and shining LED screen of his cell phone.
"Huh."
Though odd, Marco remained unphased. His mother must've clumsily dropped a frying pan on the kitchen floor or something of the sort.
*BANG*
Again? This one sounded unnatural. Sinister. Like the breaking of something... fragile.
Perhaps his father slipped on the skateboard again? His eyes darted towards the location of his phone again. Still nothing... strange... were his parents not... mad?
No. Something was wrong. Silently, Marco slipped out from underneath his bed covers and made his way out towards the main hallway.
His skateboard sat neatly, leaning against the wall behind his doorframe.
Down the spiral staircase he went, quiet as a mouse, senses heightened at the rush of adrenaline that pumped through his veins.
Whispers. Indiscernible from a distance, but he could tell they were not of familiar origin.
Marco crept closer to the location of the voices, the murmurs eventually forming proper words.
"... ... -opes and tape... ... we need to get out of here."
Ropes and tape? What for? What was going on?
Moonlight shone through the balcony window, providing Marco with silhouettes of two figures.
"What do we do about the gun?" The taller figure lifted his arm to reveal the shape of a small pistol dangling between his fingertips.
"Here pass it to me." Random clicks and jingles were heard before the shorter figure returned the firearm back to the first speaker.
A gun? Gun... bad... something... happened... parents. Okay? No...
He clenched his fists. They were sweating profusely. His skin grew clammy, his breath shortened to a pant, and his legs grew numb.
But he hadn't been noticed yet.
The first figure bent down and began working on something on the floor.
This was his chance! With all the might and courage he could muster, he charged forward at full sprint, colliding with he unsuspecting figure in front of him.
"AHHH!" Marco landed on top of the larger man and wrenched the pistol out of his hands, graciously rolling back off and directing the firearm at the two shadows.
"Don't move!" He commanded. "O-or I'll shoot!" Maybe not so courageously.
"Shit, I didn't know there was a kid in the house!" The taller one whispered to the other one.
"He doesn't know who we are! Let's just bolt!"
"HEY I WAS TALKING!"
"GO GO GO!" And just like that, the two made a run for the balcony, paying no heed to the boy holding their weapon.
Without a second thought, Marco pulled the trigger.
But nothing happened. Furiously, he cracked the lever several times over. Did they take out the bullets? It didn't matter. They were gone, whoever they were.
He searched the kitchen for a light switch and flicked it on, immediately regretting that decision.
It was too late. After everything that had happened, his last words to his parents were of malice and anger, not of love and apology. What a fool, he had been, holding grudges for the pettiest of issues, taking thWhoeir kindness for granted.
Marco dropped to his knees, drenching his pajamas in a thick coat of blood that pooled across the kitchen tile, sobbing into the lifeless corpses that were his parents.
"One day... Who would've guessed it would come so soon. Heh. I guess it's true what they say, be careful what you wish for."
Seeing the interior of his room seemed... surreal. He hadn't been back here in... almost a week now.
Marco stuffed a few belongings into a rugged suitcase he managed to dig out of the basement. Luckily, the police hadn't confiscated a lot of the original home property. Rather, nothing that wasn't spattered in blood.
Wallet, check. Toothbrush, check, extra change of clothes, check. Oh! Sleeping bag, that's a good idea. Phone...
There it sat, still, on his old bedside table, its screen dark and blank, just as it had been a week ago...
Blinking away the tears that began to well up in his eyes, Marco made his way out of the bedroom, into the main hallway. His phone remained, dead, quiet, and untouched, on the old nightstand.
Phone, check.
No one was going to find him now.
Okay so a few things I'm going to cover here, ignore if you like.
So this story has technically reached an end. I know, lots of questions left unanswered, and so in my spare time I drafted up a 'chapter 3' to this story. Reason for air quotes is that I actually don't know if I should release it or not. The thing is, it doesn't really center around the main characters, rather puts the reader into the perspective of a certain OC that I have created for the purpose of this story, hence it might be a bit of a long shot from this fandom.
If you guys could let me know what you think that'd be awesome, I could leave it off here and keep it a tragic story, or I could release part 3 and change the genre to more of a... Mystery type. I won't say more than that, but if this is the last time I update this story, then I will hope to see you guys next time for when I finally begin my much anticipated project, Ripples.
And as always, reviews and comments are deeply appreciated, and I hope to see you guys in my next installment, whatever that may be.
Oh and of course, special thanks going out to EVAunit42, this story is still technically titled under his name haha but he played a huge role in the development process nonetheless. And huge thank you to everyone who read and reviewed, sorry for no review responses for today, like I said, I've been trying to keep the intros short.