unfortunatemoth

[unfortunatemoth]

The Gang’s All Here

I’m gonna take a break from FNAF for awhile now as my hyperfixation dies down. Plus, this is the most full illustration I’ve done in years. I’m taking an art class this semester, so I’ll probably be focused more on original work for the next few months.

[unfortunatemoth]

i love them

[unfortunatemoth]

[unfortunatemoth]

why is there more than one

[unfortunatemoth]

The Fox and The Hare

CHAPTER 1 - The Fox - Filicide

Read on AO3

TWs: Abuse, physical abuse, breaking bones, body horror, descriptions of violence, blood and gore, injuries, death, homophobia and use of slurs, hallucinations, bullying, mentions of prosthetics. Please tell me if I missed anything! Notes: Bonnie is nonbinary! Reynard/Rey = Foxy Maggie = Mangle Cher = Toy Chica

His mind felt numb. It always went blank when this happened. The smell of blood was too familiar at this point. It still stung at his eyes and clogged his senses, but it wasn’t new anymore. He felt like a shell, laying in his bed with his pillow over his ears to block out the cries coming from the next room. He knew it was painful to be the one in that chair. To take the beating while the blinking light recorded every second of it. Every hit, stab, slash, tear… It was all recorded for sick people to see. Scars littered his small body, broken bones left to mend on their own without ever going to a doctor, and he looked overall pitiful. His older sister was worse, though. Maggie had always been the one to take his punishments. Yes, he’d still get punished, but she’d take the worst of it for him. That added with her separate punishments led to her looking… like how she does. It didn’t help that she was so rebellious, always promising him that when she turns 18 she’ll break them out. Stealing them food, water, and extra clothes. She got in trouble, not just with Father. She was so skinny. She’d been denied food for a week now, her legs could barely keep her standing anymore. She could still have water, but her growling stomach never stopped. Her hand was broken when she tried to steal food for herself. He knew that soon enough she’d be fed, fed more than she can handle, as another punishment. The house smelled. Maggie’s hair was going grey early from all of the stress. Her once pretty red-brown hair had prominent grey streaks, and she had such dark bags under her eyes. Her left arm was completely useless and her eye was patched up, she had so many scars. Her broken bones weren’t like Reynard’s. His could actually be.. “Healed”. While her bones were broken so out of place, no way for them to mend themselves. She had missing teeth and a crooked nose. Her body wasn’t what it used to be. She used to be so pretty.

Father stopped bringing home victims to torture in favor of using Maggie as his personal punching bag. Reynard was always forced to watch, and listen to her suffering. He’s not sure why he’s so angry today. All he knew is that he wanted to throw up. His older sister’s blood was on his feet, and she laid twitching on the floor, slowly getting back up on her hands and knees. He doesn’t know how she could always get back up. She was strong. Despite her injuries, her useless arm, and her swollen legs, she still got up, albeit heaving and drooling. She was hit one last time with a metal bat to the side before Father left. As the door closes, he immediately rushes to his sister’s side. He was only a child, though, he didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know how to even start with healing her. A bandaid couldn’t help this. His hands were shaking as he helps her sit against the wall. Her breathing was heavy, bruises forming on her quickly. He moves across the room, grabbing her shirt and skirt for her. She was left in her underwear. It was never anything sexual, it was more so for humiliation. Or for being able to harm her better. He struggles helping her into her clothing, her flinching every time she bends her limbs. Her dead arm was stiff from the beating it got. He noticed her torn ear, the blood matting her hair and staining her neck. She wasn’t as skinny, but he could still see her bones through her skin. Her neck was badly bruised, she’d been strangled. Her clothes did little to hide her injuries. She was breathing, but limp against the wall, eye glazed and unfocused. He holds her hand gently. He’s afraid he could break her with the slightest movement. He couldn’t shed tears, he’s so dehydrated. He’s so thirsty. Instead, he let out quiet sobs, trying to desperately contain them so Father doesn’t hear.

Then the fateful night happened. He was 13 and Maggie was 17, about to turn 18 in 4 weeks.

It was a mostly quiet night, the cicadas chirping being whitenoise in the background. He’d always been a light sleeper, coming in and out of consciousness. His sister had been gone for 3 days. He was worried, obviously. It plagued his mind, but he already spent two nights worrying himself to death, and he desperately needed to sleep. He had dark eye bags under his eyes, and bloodshot eyes. He was so tired. He would flinch awake whenever he heard a creak or a noise. But in the end, sleep overtook his body. He felt heavy. His sleep didn’t last long, though. He jolts awake when he hears a noise in the hallway. Father usually isn’t awake this late. And if he is, he’s outside. He sits up with bated breath, staring wide eyed at his bedroom door. His throat felt tight.

When the doorknob started moving, he felt as though it was moving in slow motion, but it was probably just in his tired mind. But relief washed over him, almost overwhelmingly so when he saw his sister poking her head in with a crooked smile. She walks in, followed by a girl she’s never seen before with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was really pretty. They shut the door as quietly as possible. “Rey, I need you… I need you to grab, uh, grab your things, okay? Gra- grab what you need, we can’t have t-too much that’ll slow us down, al-alright? I’ll be sure to get you.. I’ll be sure to get you, uh, get you new things.” She says, her voice croaky and slow from all of the abuse done to her throat. She clears her throat, muffling the sound with her sleeve. Reynard nods slowly, looking at the other woman who had a comforting hand on Maggie’s shoulder. She notices this and gives a pretty smile. “I’m Cher.” She says quietly, kneeling down next to him. “I’m your sister’s partner. I’m helping you get out of here, okay?” He didn’t completely understand what was happening, but he nodded silently once again. “G-Good.” Maggie smiles. “Get, get your things, Rey-rey.” He obeys her, getting up and grabbing a change of clothes, his water bottle, and other things he deemed important. Maggie kept guard at the door, and Cher was peeking out the window for anything. He puts everything into his beat up school backpack. They both look at him, soft smiles on their faces. It made his worry dispel, at least a little.

He grabs onto her useless hand, noticing how it’s been bandaged up. He wonders if a doctor did it or if someone else did. “Should be clear.” She whispers, slowly opening his bedroom door and looking around. His tension was high once again, and he grips a little tighter onto her hand, even though she can’t feel it. He gulps, anxiety buzzing inside of him. They walk slowly, making their way towards the front door. They all moved so slowly to not make any noise. His head was hurting from the amount of concentration it took just to not put too much weight on his feet. The tension was so high that it stressed him to no end. It was all going well, they were almost to the front door. His heart was racing, and his throat felt tight.

Then, he slipped. His stupid socks slipping on the polished wood floor, it was too dark to see where he was putting his feet. It felt like it was going in slow motion, Cher reaching to catch him and Maggie nearly falling with him. He hit the floor hard, and it was as if a gunshot went off. They all stare, wide eyed and pain bloomed in his arm. Cher quickly gets him to his feet and they race for the front door, stealth now out the window as Maggie works on the locks. She curses under her breath as loud, stomping footsteps come from down the hall. Then, Father turns the corner, seeing the three of them at the door. “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He asks, voice low and rumbling. He was absolutely seething at what he was looking at. Reynard felt all of the color drain from his face. He felt cold, seeing the man before them. “I-I’m… I’m fucking taking R-Rey!” Maggie yells, voice hoarse. “No, you fucking wont!” He yells, walking forward and grabbing Reynard, forcefully stealing him from Cher’s grip. “Rey!” Maggie runs at him, but gets punched in the jaw, hitting the wall hard with a thump. “Babe!” Cher cries, looking between the door and Maggie. But she stands back up like she always does. “So first you try to take my son, and next you’re a fucking dyke?!” He screams, throwing Reynard aside like he was nothing but a doll. He slams into the floor, and he can feel his shoulder disconnect. He swallows his scream, tears prickling in his eyes as he breathes heavily, scooting back.

“Cher, go!” Maggie yells. Cher looks reluctant but quickly grabs Reynard and runs out the door, carrying him as if he were her own child. But, she doesn’t run far, setting him in the bushes and standing up. Her cheeks were stained with black tears from her makeup. “Stay here, please. I’m going back in there, just stay here and hide, okay?” She says, grabbing his smaller hand, practically pleading. He simply nods, and she gives a smile, running back into the house. Of course, though, he wasn’t going to just wait here. He peeks in through the window, getting a view of the living room where it was happening. In the living room, Father was beating her harder than he’s ever seen before. He throws her onto the floor, stomping and kicking her head. Cher runs in, pulling out a gun from her purse, pointing it at him with shaky hands. All of them are frozen in place, and Cher says something he can’t hear. Father steps back a bit, and Cher lowers her guard. He takes this opportunity to push her into the wall, the gun falling to the floor and sliding away. Cher groans, nose bleeding. Maggie tries to get back up but he kicks her again, stomping on her throat. He stops, breathing heavily as Cher once again tries to wrestle him, but he flicks her away like a bug. He grabs the metal bat from the corner, swinging it at the girl’s head and she falls over, unconscious on the floor now. Maggie scrambles to get on her feet, but is swiftly cut off by the bat hitting her knee. She screams in pain, her broken knee giving out as she tries to scoot away from him. Reynard is frozen. His muscles refuse to move and his eyes can’t look away. Dread builds inside of him. Father brings the bat down on her, not holding back at all. Her arm gets beaten, breaking and the bones splintering and sticking out through her skin in a way that makes him want to vomit. But he doesn’t stop, continuing to bring the bat down onto her already limp, weak body. Both of her kneecaps were shattered, her skin red and purple all over. She was heaving out blood, it pouring from her lips like vomit. He swings at her head again, and he sees her jaw dislocate, but he doesn’t stop. Smashing, hitting, and destroying her head. She didn’t even look alive anymore, her head somewhat caved in and clear fluids coming from her mouth and nose along with the blood. Her eye was wide open, glazed over, no light in them. But, Father still leans down and twists her neck, snapping it until it's in the complete wrong direction. He wants to vomit. He didn’t even notice Cher. She had inched towards the gun while Maggie was taking the beating, she probably hasn’t seen just how bad it is yet. She lifts up the gun, shooting him in the leg and he yells, dropping his bat and holding his leg. This gives her a clear view of Maggie. Her eyes land on her mangled lover. Shock spreads over her face. There was a beat of silence, and then she screams, such a primal, gut wrenching scream that he’s never heard before. She drops the gun, completely forgetting about what they were here for and goes for Maggie’s body. But Father turns around, grabbing her and wrapping his hands around her neck. She yells, kicks, screams, tries to fight back, but the fighting starts to stop and her yells get quieter until her hand drops limply to her side.

After that there was a chilling silence. The only sound being Father’s shuffling as he stands up, putting away the bat and lighting a cigarette as if it were any other day. Reynard finally feels time unpause, and he practically collapses, legs giving out on him and he heaves, vomiting onto the ground, only his stomach fluids coming from him. He hasn’t eaten in a while. He knows he needs to run. He needs to run as quickly as possible and get the fuck out of here. He needs to go, but he feels limp, just like his dead sister. Dead. That realization sinks in, hitting him like a train. He wants to scream. He wants to scream and cry and bash his head into a wall. Why is he alive?

And it’s his fault. His fault they got caught. That hurts more than any injury he’s ever received. He breathes quickly, gasping and shaking. It’s his fault. It’s his fault they both died. He killed them. He killed them and they’re gone forever and now he’s going to be a slave to his Father and their hard work and deaths would be for nothing. His head is pounding, and he wants to scream, but his throat feels swollen and his muscles are stiff. He doesn’t remember when or how he fainted.

The next day, he woke up in Father’s car. He felt so drowsy, his vision blurry as he slowly regained his consciousness. He smelled cigarette smoke, and heard the radio on. He blinks slowly, looking up at Father, who was staring ahead. “Finally awake, brat?” He asks, flicking his cigarette and turning to him. He frowns, looking around. In the back seat were two bodies. Cher and Maggie. Cher looked otherwise fine, though she was only wearing her underwear, he’s not sure why. But Maggie… Her poor body was practically mangled, none of her limbs were twisted the right way. Her head was almost completely backwards, and her body was laid awkwardly, her bones not really holding a human shape anymore from the amount of damage. Her mouth hung open from her broken jaw, her nose broken beyond repair and her neck splotchy and red. She looked so pale. He felt sick staring at her, so he looked away. “What… What’re we doing?” He asks, looking at Father with fearful eyes. He huffs, blowing out smoke slowly and putting out the cigarette on the dashboard. “We’re getting rid of the bodies.” He says simply. He then opens his door, getting out and going to the trunk, holding two large white sheets. He opens the back door, setting the sheets on top of the bodies. He then grabs filled trash bags, placing them on top, probably to make it look less suspicious. He then gets back in the car, buckling up. “But we’re not disposing them here. That dyke’s got a family that’ll be looking for her. If we go to a different state or county, the body won't be so easily identified.” He explains this, turning the car on. He glances at his child. “And this will also be an example to you if you ever think about misbehaving.” Reynard gulps, feeling a chill go down his spine at the icy tone. He simply nods, buckling his seatbelt and staring ahead out the window.

Everything seemed to start fading away after that. Nothing felt like it existed anymore. The music sounded like static to his ears. His entire body felt numb, light but at the same time so heavy. His eyes were unfocused. He just… shuts down. This tended to happen, usually when Father brought people home. His brain turning off to avoid the emotional meltdown he’d have to eventually face. Just bottle it up for a little longer. He’s not sure how long they’ve been in the car, his mental clock just stopping for him. They could’ve been here for hours, minutes, or maybe just a breath. He might’ve fallen asleep at one point, but he doesn’t really know. All of it was foggy. The time on the road all blended together. But, then they come to a stop. The road they were on was completely barren, and it’s now nighttime, but he’s not sure the exact time, it was just dark out. He pulls in, stopping the car and unbuckling his seatbelt. He gets out, the car chiming, lights blinking. “Get out, kid.” He says. Reynard follows suit, getting out of the car slowly. He feels his tension rising, his back feels stiff, almost, and his throat tight. He grips onto his shirt, biting his lip. Slowly, Father begins taking out the trash bags. They all drop onto the concrete, and the covered bodies become more visible. He adjusts his gloves, wetting his lips and grabbing a body, wrapping it up some more with the sheet. It was harder to wrap Maggie’s body. He huffs, pulling the bodies out, and chucking them into the shallow ditch. Rey felt a bit sick. Father goes to the trunk, pulling out two containers of gasoline. And, without a word, he dumps all of it onto the bodies. “This is what happens…” He throws the empty canisters out of the way, lighting a match, “To brats that misbehave.” And he throws the match into the ditch. It lit so much easier than he had expected. The smell made him want to vomit. He bites the inside of his cheek, trying to not seem as distressed as he actually is. The fire grew huge, he could see the sheets burning and holes forming, showing the now darkened, dry dead skin. They stand there, watching for a moment. The smoke made his eyes water. Or maybe it was his emotions. If his Father sees, he’ll just say it’s from the smoke either way. “Okay, get in the fucking car, we’re leaving.” He turns, going back to the driver’s seat. Reynard takes a second. This was the last time he’d ever see his sister. He bites his lip, tearing his eyes away and running back to the car.

That was the last time he ever saw his older sister.

The next day on the news, two unidentified female bodies were found. No one came forward to the police. They were marked as Jane Does, and the case went cold.

Skipping ahead, he was in school again. He’s not sure why Father allowed him to go back to school, but he appreciated it. Even if the people there were mean and made fun of him. They called him names, or were generally creeped out by him. He had a lazy eye now, which in itself caused a lot of bullying on top of the problems he already has with it. Then he’d get bullied for his name, too, being called Rey-tard by his peers. They seemed to think it was the funniest shit, for some reason. He wasn’t all that attractive, either. He had crooked teeth and an ugly scar on his nose. Most of his scars were covered, at least. His lazy eye would dry out a lot easier, he’s not sure why, but it’d look all red and gross. None of the bullying got physical, really. He suspects it's because he’s already got a prosthetic. Oh yeah, he has a prosthetic leg now. It was real ugly looking, and he covered it with pants all the time. So the bullying never extended to anything physical. Funny though how they still made fun of him. Some of them backed down when they learned about it, probably pity, but there were still people who picked on him. If they got especially rude, he’d detach his leg and it’d usually freak them out. So he was known as a weirdo, too. It wasn’t all bad, though. He had some.. Friends? Or, at least people who pitied him. It was better than being taunted. He wasn’t a great student, either. He had bad grades from always zoning out, he’d hear things that weren’t there and see stuff out of the corner of his eyes. They were mostly auditory. Once, when they were watching a documentary for class, all he could hear was the background music. It was much louder than anything else, and it sounded like it was coming from the floor rather than the speakers. He’d hear people say his name, or sometimes feel taps on his shoulder when people weren’t actually touching him. This would cause him to say things out loud in the middle of class, and get laughed at or scolded. On especially bad days, he’d hear his sister. But not just that. Whenever he’d see a bat, he’d hear her grunting and groaning coming from behind him. He’d also hear her panting and breathing right beside him in class sometimes, or her croaky voice whispering things that he can’t make out. And on the worst days, he’ll see her. Her mangled body. He’s never had a hallucination of her in her normal state. Always her mangled, disfigured dead body. Once the room started to get covered in blood. The first time he saw her, he began screaming in class, falling out of his chair. He was sent to the nurse and it took them an hour to snap him back to reality, and another 30 minutes to calm him down. He can’t get any medicine prescribed to him because his Father isn’t going to spend money on any sort of therapy or psychiatrist. But his hallucinations were getting worse. He doesn’t really remember when they started, but they’ve been getting worse and worse. His “bad days” were becoming more frequent and his grades were dropping tremendously. He’s been trying to ignore these hallucinations, though it was really hard when he could hear and feel it all. Even if others couldn’t experience them, it all felt real to him. He knows they’re not real, but they feel so real. He even smells things sometimes. He’ll smell blood a lot of the time. Sometimes, the noise around him gets turned down, sounding like he’s underwater, and he’ll see his arm detached on his desk. No one else sees it, no one else is even looking at him, but his arm is on the table, and he can’t feel anything. He feels like he’s going insane. Maybe he is. He knows next to nothing about mental health. Who knows what the fuck is going on in his brain? He sure doesn’t.

He wishes he could tell someone, anyone, about what happened to his sister and her girlfriend. But to everyone, he’s an only child. He’s not sure how Father was able to completely wipe his sister’s identity. But only they knew about the two Jane Doe cold cases. Not many other students really keep up with the news. Plus, at this point it's been a few years. He’s about 16 years old. The case was still being investigated, but at this point many officers have moved onto active cases. The Jane Doe cases faded into the background for everyone. Just another murder. It makes him feel sick. If he tells anyone, they’d contact Father and then he’d get beaten. Or maybe killed. He doesn’t know what punishment he’d get if he ever said anything about that murder. The thought alone scared him. He wants to scream it to the world. Maybe when he can leave his father he can safely go to the police. Just maybe. He just needs to wait a few more years.

When he became 19, he had enough money from his part time job to get an apartment in a completely different state. It was still close by, the next state over, but it was a long drive and he hoped that his Father wouldn’t be that dedicated to kill him. It was really hard, getting all the money without Father stealing any of it, and most of all finding a place he could afford and finding the time to be able to move. He didn’t tell his Father about it, either. He just wanted to get the fuck out of there. He used a bus instead of his car, and he planned to replace all of his electronics, just so he couldn’t be easily tracked. Maybe he was paranoid, but he doesn’t want to risk anything. Moving into his apartment was exhausting, but he made sure to only pack some suitcases and only two boxes of his things, just so it wouldn’t slow him down. It was still such an annoyance. He only had a couch, some chairs, and a mattress for now. It wasn’t a life of luxury, that’s for sure. In his new home, he works 2 different part time jobs. One as a cook, and another as a janitor. He’s not really allowed to be a cashier or anything that shows him much. He’s not exactly the most comforting presence to be around, that’s for sure. Nor was he really welcoming. He’s no good at talking, and his appearance was a little sketchy. He worked hard, though. Mostly because he needs money to actually live, and not so much out of passion.

After two months of living on his own, he decides to finally go to the police station. He was incredibly anxious, and he was surely looking suspicious just walking into the police station while acting this paranoid. He probably looks like a druggie or something, but he came to file a report, so that’s why he’s here. It took some time, but he’s eventually sat down with an officer, one who seemed tired and disinterested. He gulps, shifting in his seat. “Okay, Reynard…” She writes something down, looking at him. “What is it you’re reporting today?” “T.. The Jane Doe cases from… 6 years ago.” He begins, and the woman looks at him with a raised eyebrow. “Uh, I know who did it. M-My father.. He, uh… he killed them.” She hums, chewing on her pen as she types on her computer. It’s quiet for a few minutes. She then looks back at him. “We don’t have any unsolved Jane Doe cases here.” She says simply. “N-No the.. The case in California. Uh… Shasta County.” He gulps. She hums. “We can’t really do anything other than contact the police department over there.” She explains. She doesn’t seem to be taking his statement very seriously. He bites his lip, nodding. She writes something down. “We’ll contact the sheriff there, and inform him of your statement. Then you can call their police department, alright?” He frowns but nods. “Alright… Thank you.”

First try wasn’t great, but hopefully the next try will go well.

Calling the Shasta County Police Department was a little strange. He paced in his living room, trying to calm his nerves. “Y-Yes, I’d like to file a report.” He says, clearing his throat. “It’s about the Jane Doe cases from 6 years ago. The, uh, unsolved one.” There’s some typing on the other line. “Yes, what do you have to report?” He gulps, trying to calm his nerves. “Uh, my Father. He killed them.” “Your Father?” “Yes.”

There’s a bit of silence on the other line, before she begins speaking again. “Alright, what details do you know about the case, sir?” This was it. He gives a shaky breath. “Uh, all of it. I was, uh, there. One of them was, uh, my sister. We were heavily, a-abused as kids.” He says, voice beginning to shake. “He, uh, was always violent. Not just with us, h-he’d kidnap and torture and kill people o-on camera. U-Uh, he’d hit us with.. Ba… bats.” He’s starting to shake a little. “H-He uh, killed her and her girlfriend a-after she tried to, uh… escape with me. He killed them and… burned them in a ditch…” There’s typing on the other line, some occasional hums. When he finishes, she speaks again. “What’s your name again? And the victim's names?” He gives their names, but he can’t remember the girlfriend’s name, no matter how hard he tries.. Again, there’s a long silence. “Sorry, sir, there isn’t a ‘Maggie’ in our system. We can’t find any birth records, either… And we can’t do much about the other victim if you can’t remember her name.” She speaks slowly. “N-No, I swear she’s the one who died!” He sounds desperate now, gripping the phone tightly. “Sir, please calm down. I suggest… you see a therapist or psychiatrist, sir. I think you’re just imagining things… And to begin with, the victim’s injuries are more in line with a car crash than a bat.” She speaks slowly and carefully, as if she’s talking to a child. “She was killed by a bat! A-A metal one!” He’s breathing heavily now, one hand clutching his stomach. The woman sighs. “Sir, I’ll get you on line with a psychiatrist.” “No-!” The phone cuts off.

He didn’t have any luck after that. He's not sure why no one would believe him. He’s telling the honest truth. Is his story really that unbelievable? He feels sick. He’s on medication now, at least. That’s one plus. His hallucinations aren’t as frequent or bad as they used to be, but it still bugged him to no end that his story keeps getting disregarded. He wants to pull his hair out, it’s so frustrating. Talking to a therapist helps, but they just… don’t believe him. It doesn’t help that he has some gaps in his memory. It was so frustrating. He just… wants to give up. He doesn’t want his Father to get away with it, obviously, but he’s so… tired.

And there’s not a lot he can do when he’s not even in California anymore. He feels so helpless. He’s tried making many reports, but none of them went through. He wishes people would believe him, and he wishes he could remember more. He doesn’t know why his memory is so foggy… He needs to remember, but he just can’t.

So, for a while… He gives up. He gets a stable job as a mechanic, and continues seeing his therapist. That should be the end of his story, right? Well, not quite… It’s not over yet.