𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑-𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓、 TICCI TOBY.

𝜗𝜚.𝟎𝟔

𝕿oby remained utterly motionless, as if not even drawing a breath, until he swiftly pivoted and wrested the blade from the girl's tight grasp. Now he held the knife, its jagged edge slicing deeply into his palm.

As Cleo yelped, the larger, stronger figure forcefully pinned her against a nearby wall, the weapon's tip now aimed at her chin. Despite her attempts to turn away, Toby could only laugh.

"Watch yourself, wouldn't want any accidents," he taunted. Seizing a handful of her hair, he hurled her towards the bed, where the younger one stumbled and fell. Cleo would swiftly regain her composure, edging backward as Toby loomed over her.

With a chuckle, the boy dropped the knife and redirected his focus to examining the intricacies of her room. His excitement seemed to manifest in small twitches as he lifted a photo capturing Cleo and her youngest siblings perfectly. A wry smile crept across his face.

"You must really love them huh?" He asked dryly while tossing the photo down.

Cleo trembled violently, desperately attempting to reach for the knife.

"Please refrain from that. Otherwise, I may find it necessary to cut your wrist and allow you to bleed out, right in front of little Kayla," Toby murmured gently. He closed the book he had been inspecting and turned his gaze back to Cleo, who hastily withdrew her hand.

Moving closer, the man leaned in, his eyes forming crescents with a twisted sense of pleasure. "That's it," he remarked, patting the top of her head with a gloved hand. Toby followed up by gripping her chin.

"From this moment on, I'm going to ensure your existence is nothing short of a living nightmare," the man murmured, his voice tinged with a sinister hum.

"I've been observing you for months, studying every nuance that sets you off. You've been my target for quite some time." Toby whispered into her ear as his hand found its way to her neck, tightening his grip and beginning to choke her.

He sighed, observing her expression as she futilely struggled to persuade him to release his hold. "You've belonged to me all along, Cleo, ever since that very first day I laid eyes on you," Toby smiled through his guard. He allowed the young woman to claw at his wrist briefly before forcefully throwing her aside.

"I-im just happy—we finally got to meet."

The man left it at that, observing Cleo double over in a fit of coughs as she struggled to regain a normal breathing rhythm. Tears welled in her big brown eyes as her long brown hair cascaded forward, framing her silhouette in an almost angelic manner. Toby yearned to diminish that light of hers, he took it as a personal challenge.

Before Cleo could offer a response, intervene, or protest, she found herself alone in her room. Standing up, she frantically swiveled her head, searching for the intruder. Failing to find anyone, she dashed out into the hallway and into Kayla's room, where the child lay peacefully asleep.

Her heart eased momentarily until a violent scream echoed from downstairs, followed by the shattering of glass.

And there she stood, observing her mother lying motionless on the couch like a doll, illuminated by the flickering glow of an old television show as Cleo approached.

With hesitation, she called out, "M-mom?"

Receiving no response, she circled the furniture, closing the distance between them, only to gasp and cover her mouth with her hands to stifle a scream. Tears welled in her eyes, turning into sobs as she took in the horrifying sight of her now lifeless mother.

In her mother's hands, a cup filled with her own blood was delicately placed, poured into a wine glass, while her intestines and organs were gruesomely pulled out, arranged to mimic someone in a state of relaxation.

So the game of cat and mouse, had officially began.

﹒⟢ ﹒

CLEO 𝜗𝜚.
Morning arrived faster than expected, but I felt sluggish, still trying to process the overwhelming events of the previous night. Sitting through endless hours of questioning, I felt drained and numb. When they took Kayla, the last member of my small family, I could hardly muster the strength to resist. Guilt weighed heavily on me for surviving when others hadn't, but now it was beginning to make sense. Yet now, I bury my head in my pillow, allowing the silence to permeate the once lively house, devoid of humanity or emotion.

For nearly three weeks, I endured this torment, until I reached a breaking point. I lashed out, hurling objects at the walls, screaming until my voice faltered, clawing at my own skin, yearning for their return. I was consumed by a sense of violence and helplessness.

My distant aunt's sporadic visits felt like intrusions, her disdain for me palpable, fueled by resentment for the loss of her older brother, my father. But her timing was impeccable, arriving when I was in the midst of a cleaning spree, the aftermath of her previous visit still fresh in my mind.

As she entered, she was greeted by a transformed scene: curtains drawn, kitchen spotless, rooms devoid of dust. I had taken charge, finding solace in the chaos of cleaning.

"Cleo! Cleo?" Her voice echoed through the house, but I was preoccupied, meticulously attending to my appearance, a manic energy driving me forward.

"Cleo honey, where are you?" Her footsteps drew closer, interrupting my self-care routine. I barely acknowledged her presence as she entered, visibly taken aback by my altered appearance.

"Y-you uh. . .you certainly changed."

I paid her no mind, fixating on her reflection in the mirror, where I had just completed piercing my eyebrow and nose bridge. My freshly dyed black hair cascaded down my shoulders, freed from its previous pinned-up state. It settled in a mass of curls that framed my face and some of my figure. I liked it that way.

"Is uhm, everything okay?"

The question felt loaded, stirring a surge of emotions within me that I struggled to contain. Sensing my tension, she nervously nibbled at her nail, inching closer. With a hesitant touch, she reached for my face, her hand finding its place on my cheek.

"Your eyes, they're so dark now. My poor girl."

Her sudden attention felt unsettling, yet Aunt Marie's observation was not unfounded. The vibrant hue of my eyes had faded, replaced by a deep, almost black shade—a stark reflection of the losses I had endured.

Ignoring her, I brushed her hand away from my face, grabbed my bag filled with various materials, and muttered, "I have to go."

Without waiting for her response, I hurried down the hall, leaving the now freshly lit home behind. It no longer felt like mine, and I had no desire to stay.

But just before stepping out the door, I took one last look around the house, my gaze resting on the family photo on the wooden countertop. The urge to smile tugged at me, but the memories were too raw and with that, a heavy heart, I closed the door behind me and walked away.

My old life was no more, and it was time to accept that.

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A╱N: Finally the two have officially met, what do you think will happen? I've chosen to incorporate first and third person views now, as to get abit more closer to the characters!

Hope you enjoyed this chapter, consider leaving a like, or comment. Feedback is always appreciated! ❤︎