Chapter One: Victoria

124 6 8
                                    

Excerpt from the Mandeville local newspaper: Tragedy has struck our small town today as the home of Peter and Margaret Woods was found in flames. Several corpses were discovered, consisting of the couple, three young girls, neighbors Gregory Arkensaw and his wife Isabelle, as well as Isabelle's brother, Jonathan Ross. The Woods's youngest son Liu was found outside of the home, with several deep cuts and lacerations across his body. Thankfully, however, the twelve-year-old boy was alive, along with three others. The Arkensaw couple's daughter, Jane was also found alive, but she had unfortunately been found with deep burn wounds. The doctors are unsure if she will pull through, but only time will tell. A family friend, Hannah Jackson was also found alive, but the authorities refuse to give any information about her current state. The last survivor to be found was Johnathan's thirteen-year-old daughter, Victoria. Unlike her fellow survivors, however, Victoria seems to be in the best condition, with only a few scrapes and a minor concussion. She should be out of the hospital in a few days. Sadly, the Woods's oldest son, Jeffery, was never located. It's believed he may have run away or been kidnapped by the perpetrator of this heinous act. We must all pray for Jeffery Woods's safe return.

"That was about a year ago."

Caroline Scott, or Ms. Scott, as her patients called her, folded the aforementioned newspaper neatly, placing it on the small table in front of her. Clicking her pen, she leaned forward, showing the girl sitting on the couch across from her that she was listening. "So, what exactly happened that night?"

"Do I really have to tell you again?" The girl asked, tapping her fingers against her knees uncomfortably. "We've already gone over this several times, Ms. Scott."

"Reviewing the facts and details repeatedly will solidify them in your mind. It's a way to avoid denial and facing the situation several times can help you avoid unhealthy coping mechanisms and such." She hesitated before continuing. "Also... It will help your case to have a consistent story. With what you told the authorities about Mr. Woods and everything..."

"Oh, good Lord." The girl scoffed. "So, you believe that bullshit? About me helping that asshole?"

Caroline tensed at the young girl's words, still not used to her colorful vocabulary. "I'm not saying that."

"Then what are you saying, Ms. Scott?" The girl almost growled, folding her arms over her chest.

"Um..." Caroline scratched the back of her neck, glancing down at her clipboard. "What exactly was your relationship with Mr. Woods, Victoria?"

"Oh my God! What did I do?!" Victoria shot out of her seat, throwing her hands over her head. "It's not my fault! Why can't any of you see that?! You're supposed to be helping me! I'm the kid here!"

"Calm down, Victoria."

"Calm down?! You want me to calm down?! How about instead of blaming me for everything, why don't you go find the monster that killed my dad?! I wasn't the only one who lived, you know!" Victoria paced around the room, moving her arms erratically. "But of course! Of course, I helped him! Just because I was relatively unscathed automatically means I was Jeff's accomplice. Of course, I helped him kill my dad, and all my friends as well as my uncle! I helped some guy I barely knew for a fucking week kill the most important people in my life! That's stupid, Ms. Scott! Fucking stupid!"

"Victoria." Caroline's tone was firmer now. "Please sit back down."

"No!" Victoria yelled angrily. "I'm done! You obviously don't believe me, so we're done here!"

With that, the fourteen-year-old girl turned on her heel and marched out the door.


 Beep-beep.

Beep.

Beep-beep.

She groaned, turning on her side in a failed attempt at escaping the annoying noise.

Beep-beep.

Beep.

Beeeeeeeeep.

"God, shut up!" A sixteen-year-old Victoria Ross sat up abruptly, slapping her alarm clock to cease the incessant beeping sound.

'Why do I even need an alarm when it's the weekend?' She thought to herself as she slumped out of bed. Her aunt, Margaret Taylor had recently put Victoria on a strict alarm system. Apparently, repetition is good for your mental health, at least that's what Margaret had claimed. Victoria couldn't have cared less. She stumbled down the stairs with a drawn-out yawn.

"Hey, Marge? You up?" Victoria called out as she passed through the hallway into the kitchen. No response. She pulled a box of cereal off the shelf, pouring its contents out into a bowl. As she did this, she called out for her aunt again. "Marge?"

No response.

"Uh, Aunt Marge?" Victoria called again, looking over her shoulder. "You there?"

No response.

"Aunt Marge...?" Panic slowly began to seep into Victoria's tone. Her hands began shaking, and one hand instinctively moved to her arm, scratching at it vigorously to keep herself busy. "Marge?!"

Victoria's knees quivered beneath her. Margaret always replied. Why wasn't she replying? Where was she?

What if...

"MARGE?!?!?!?!?!?!"

"VICKY!"

Victoria was quickly spun around, only to come face-to-face with her aunt. Almost immediately, her panic washed away. It was then that she realized she had almost begun crying.

"What happened, sweetie?" Her aunt questioned as her hands moved from Victoria's shoulders to her forearms. She rubbed her thumbs over Victoria's skin in a soothing motion, patiently waiting for her niece's answer.

"Where..." Victoria began. "Where were you? Why didn't you respond when I called you?"

"I was replying, honey?" Margaret furrowed her brows, tilting her head in confusion. "Maybe you just didn't hear me?"

"Oh... yeah, I guess so." Victoria quickly shook herself out of Margaret's grip, returning to her cereal.

"Sweetie-"

"Let's not talk about it, okay?" She interrupted Margaret quickly, not wanting to discuss her former state of panic.

"Alright," Margaret sighed, her eyes softening. She drummed her fingers against the smooth countertop, watching her niece as she prepared her breakfast. "Hey, maybe you should go on a walk today? Some fresh air might help you feel better."

"I guess."

Vicky Genocidal: In DepthWhere stories live. Discover now