Twisted

Chapter 3

*New Orleans June 5, 1913*

"Be good for mama, Al. I'll be back tonight." I say as I give my brother a hug.

"Are you going to the radio station again?" Al asks.

"Yes." I smile.

"Can I come? Please!"

"Sorry Al, not tonight." I wave to mother as I exit.

"Stay safe (Y/n)." My mother smiles.

I pull on my coat as I head out towards the radio station where I was hired to sing and speak. I enjoy it, Dan is a nice guy, he's the father I wish I had. The streets are alive with the noon bustle as people walk around to get lunch or groceries. My knife is a comforting weight in my jacket pocket as I stick to the back alley's to get to the station.

I push open the door to the little studio and take off my coat. "Good afternoon, Dan." I call.

"Hello, (Y/n). How's it going? How's Al doing?" He calls back.

"It's been a busy couple days. Al's doing great, still wants to come over to the studio."

Dan laughs. "When he's older he can have the whole studio from me if he wants it so bad."

I laugh too as I sit in the chair next to Dan. The day goes by slowly but I like it. Dan has many stories to tell about his family and the radio station. I sing a couple songs every hour and wonder if Alastor is listening back at home with the radio Dan gave me to give to Al. Like me Alastor has this strange love for radios. We'll sit on his bed for hours listening to it, or reading about new radios. Together we were even able to build our own with thrown out pieces found behind the station and old tech Dan gave me.

When I sing on the radio I don't feel like I'm singing for the world. I feel like I'm singing for Alastor back home. I feel as if I'm singing in my living room for him and mother. I feel lost in the music and notes. I feel free, like the bruises under my coat sleeves never existed at all. Like I don't have to come up with a new excuse as to why there's a bruise or cut on my face for Dan.

I can pretend for a few minutes that my father isn't a raging alcoholic, but instead the kind man watching me from the studio window with pride on his face. I can pretend like my life is the perfect one you see in all the new advertisements. I can pretend I'm not a killer that stalks the nights. Pretend I don't take the lives of men and women for fun. I can be normal for a few hours.

"Good night Dan!" I say as I pull on my coat for the night.

"Good night, (Y/n). Stay safe girl." He gives me a hug.

"I will, Dan." I open the door and step outside, Dan follows me to the doorway.

"Say hi to your brother for me."

"I will." I wave.

The fresh night air fills my nostrils as I walk back home. There's a soft smile on my face as I pass under each street light. The moon is bright in the sky and the stars twinkle. I turn out of town and take the dirt road towards home. I stop in the middle of the road, something's not right.

Through the trees I see the light pouring from the open door of our house. Father's home. Suddenly my smile falls and all the peace I was feeling moments before vanished.

I take off in a sprint towards the house. 'Please let Al be okay. Please.' My feet pound down the dirt road as our house comes fully into view. I hear the sound of shattering glass come from the open door.

"Mama?! Alastor?!" I shout as I run through the door. The strong smell of alcohol assaults my nose and I run in.

There's blood everywhere. Much more than normal. "Mama! Al!"

I follow the sound of struggle to the kitchen where Alastor is trying so hard to get away from father. Tears stream down his face mixing with blood. My rage boils over, I run over to my father and kick him clear in the head. He slumps to the ground unconscious. I hug Alastor to my chest.

"Al, are you okay? Where are you hurt?" I ask and begin searching him but I find only a small scratch and some bruises. Nothing to produce the amount of blood that's on his face. "Al what happened?"

"Mama." he whimpers.

"What about mama? Al, where's mother?" I ask, my heart pounding in my chest.

He points to the bedroom with a shaky finger. I nod. "Okay. Okay. Um..." I look at my father who stirs in his sleep. "Go to our bedroom, lock the door."

Al shakes his head. "He broke the door. It doesn't lock anymore."

I curse under my breath. "Okay. Still go to our room. If he comes in, open the window and run. Okay. Run and don't look back."

Al nods and runs to the room. I go to our parents room, my feet get heavy as I approach the door. In my heart I know I'm not going to like what I find. In the hall light I see the blood soaked carpet. I step into the room and see mother on the floor with blood coming from her side and bruises on her neck.

I've killed enough people to know she's past saving. Tears blur my vision and rage bubbles in my heart. I kneel down next to mother, "mama. I'm sorry."

I hear the creak of a floor board and whip around to see my father enraged with a bruise on his temple.

"You killed her." I say my voice soft. "You killed her!" I shout and jump to my feet.

He slaps my face so hard I see stars for a minute. "You will not say anything to anyone. She ran off. I didn't do it." My father growls. "If you say anything we will have problems."

"I will. I will. I'll tell the world what a horrible person you are! You'll rot in jail!"

My father grabs my hair and slams my head into the wall. He drags me through the house by my hair. I scream and kick trying to break free.

"(Y/n)!" I hear little Al scream.

"Al! Stay-" I'm cut off by a punch to the mouth. My father hauls my squirming body outside to the storm shelter. He throws me down the stairs and I land on my shoulder hard. I hear a pop before searing pain shoots up my neck.

In the glow of the moon light I see the silhouette of my father before the doors slam shut leaving me in darkness.