Chapter Text
That night, Violet was cooking dinner, while the twins were watching TV–it seemed like for the first time.
“I wonder what will happen next.”
“Most likely the woman will admit that the child is not her husband’s.”
“But she’s stuck between telling him and telling her child.”
“Stuck between a rock and a hard place.”
Both the twins talked to each other as they watched the opera on the television. Trager rolled his eyes, while Eddie watched vigorously while sewing a new project he was working on. Chris also watched, but he was bored out of his mind from watching.
He looked over his shoulder at Violet cooking, seeing her fidget and swat at her ear, seemingly at nothing. Once she finished, she made a tick with her head. It looked like she muttered to herself, quiet enough so he couldn’t hear.
“She’s getting worse,” he thought, growing concerned ever since they left that place.
He looked back at the TV, contemplating.
“Dinner’s ready!” Violet called.
“Finally! What did ya make this time, kid?” Trager said, clapping his hands together as he walked to the kitchen.
“Just a chicken spaghetti casserole, that’s all,” she replied, washing her hands in the sink.
She seemed absent, only going through the motions of cleaning up, not bothering to look up from what she was doing. Trager seemed to notice this.
“You okay? You don’t seem to be acting normal,” he asked, putting a hand on her shoulder.
She tensed, bracing herself. He backed off, just looking at her. She looked back at him, trying to pull a smile.
“I’m fine,” she answered firmly.
Trager nodded in response, but didn’t say much more.
That night, while the others ate, Violet cleaned up the dishes in the kitchen. The topic of the leaked camera footage was on everyone’s minds.
“So Park managed to get out, post this said footage, and still isn’t caught by Murkoff,” Trager said as he ate.
“It appears so. I remember him,” Eddie added. “I remember him being fearful for his life, dressed in a patient’s outfit.”
“So he was interned as a patient, to cover up what Murkoff did,” Chris stated.
“But he escaped.”
“And is somewhere out there in the world.”
They were quiet for a moment, save for the sound of clinking silverware, running water, and banging of pots and pans in the sink.
“Why can’t we release our own footage?” Trager asked. “Maybe make people really see what happened, adding fuel to the fire.”
“If we do that, Murkoff will be able to trace it back to this location, find us, and take us back in without question,” Chris argued.
“Then maybe Marion could help us with that,” Violet piped up.
“But he’s been silent for weeks now,” Trager added.
“He said not to call unless absolutely necessary. I think this counts as necessary,” she replied.
“And he's still undercover?” Eddie asked. “What if he gets caught?”
“He's litigation, he should be pretty good about covering his tracks,” Chris answered for him.
“I don't know. Glick was always one for being better at sniffing things out than Marion was,” Trager replied.
“Well how dangerous could she be? Besides working for a company that basically uses human test subjects?” Violet asked.
“You see my hair, right?” He asked, pointing to his hair now growing unevenly in several spots. “The bitch put my hair through a paper shredder . Tore my whole scalp apart.”
Violet grimaced, turning away to put up the leftovers from dinner.
“The point is, we have to be careful with Glick still here somewhere. They already sniffed around the asylum, and they think Upshur is dead. They're looking for Park, who's still on the run, and not much more. So what else do we have to lose?”
“Besides our lives? And what about her? Do you want her and her mother to get caught up in this?” Chris retorted.
“They were already involved when Upshur sent that email to her. She was already involved the moment she stepped foot in that place.”
There was an uneasy silence between Trager and Walker, staring down each other from the kitchen table.
“We could use a public wifi service,” Violet piped up, breaking the silence. “Either at my school, or the mall. The mall would probably be a better option.”
“No. We need Marion; he knows his way around these types of things,” Chris said firmly.
Violet quickly picked up the phone, dialing the number.
She hesitated before dialing the number, looking back at the others before she clicked the button, and waited until it rang.
~
Marion was at home, finally, after what seemed like a few grueling weeks of trying to figure out what Peacock had in store. That and also having to discredit Park for his footage from the asylum, painting him as the mentally ill man hellbent on exposing Murkoff for nothing.
He sat on the couch, watching TV. Alice was already asleep. Leaving him by himself.
And then his phone rang. He dug through his pocket, picking it out and opening it to answer.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Marion?”
He sat straight up on the couch.
“Ms. Gonzalez?”
“Yes, I know I shouldn’t be calling, but I wanted to let you know that we saw Waylon Park’s–”
“Park’s video, yes I know. I had to discredit that before I left for Arizona.”
“What if I told you I have Miles’ camcorder? And all the footage taken from the asylum?”
He thought about it, tossing his head one way and the other.
“What did you want to do with it?” He asked.
“I was hoping you’d maybe come over some time when you’re free. Take a look at it, and maybe help us figure out how to upload it without the company tracing it back to us.”
Marion felt uneasy. It was one thing to go off course, and Glick being on his ass about leaving and going to Arizona. And this would spell things out for him horribly if Murkoff ever found out.
“Can you do that?”
He snapped out of his thoughts.
“I’ll do it. I’ll come by maybe, Friday, Saturday, somewhere in that time period.”
“Okay, great. Is there anything you want me to do beforehand?”
“No, no. I should be able to handle it, transferring it shouldn’t be a problem. But we would have to go to a place with a public wifi service, just to be sure.”
“Alright.”
“Okay. I’ll see ya around, kid.”
“See ya.”
And he hung up the phone.
“What have I gotten myself into?”
~
Violet breathed a sigh of relief as she hung up the phone, placing it back on the stand.
“So now what?” Eddie asked.
“We wait. He said he’d be here Friday or Saturday, but I don’t know which,” Violet replied.
“So he really is going behind Murkoff’s back, huh?” Trager muttered.
“Seems like it,” Chris commented.
Later that night, both the twins had decided to help out in the kitchen, which was odd to see. But it seemed like that had grown a liking to Violet and her mother, even if Amber was strict and hesitant of them. Violet was finishing a last minute homework assignment at the kitchen table. She tapped her foot as she figured out how to do linear equations, but her mind was somewhere else.
“Divide…and conquer…”
She flinched her head away in one direction, opening her eyes to focus on the math problems. She scribbled on the paper, writing down the process to solve the problem.
“Over your shoulder…”
“...Not gone…forever…”
She sighed as she finished her homework for the night, taking the paper and putting it back in her backpack.
“Something troubling you?”
“Or perhaps a difficult problem?”
Both the twins asked as they dried off their hands.
“Cannibals…monsters…”
Violet shrugged, trying to act normal.
“Yeah, but that’s really the least of my problems now. It’s done, anyways.”
“So this…school you speak of…”
“It is a place of learning?”
“Yeah. You learn history, science, math, English–course English class includes like…learning literature and Shakespeare,” she explained.
“Could you teach us then?”
“So that we are more educated?”
“Me? Being your teacher?”
They both nodded, a hint of surprise on their faces.
“Guys, I’m only a kid. I can’t be your teacher. I already struggle with math enough as it is.”
“But it doesn’t hurt.”
“Especially if we are to go out into public someday.”
She nodded her head, pursing her lip.
“That’s true, but, uh…you two have a lot to learn.”
Chris strolled into the room, having finished up the laundry.
“Did you finish your homework?” He asked, peering over her shoulder.
His presence used to feel like a death sentence, but now it slowly grew into a comfort.
“I finished it,” she replied, slightly annoyed.
“Good,” he replied, patting her shoulder before he made his way to the fridge.
Both of the twins looked confused, looking back at Walker before turning to Violet. She just smiled to herself, setting her backpack up for tomorrow.
“Your roots are growing in.”
“Yes, and the hair dye is washing out.”
She perked at this, looking at them both.
“Oh, I haven’t noticed,” she replied. “I might just leave it this way. I don’t mind being blonde for a little while.”
“It makes for a better disguise.”
“In case someone recognizes you in public.”
She nodded back in response. Her gaze immediately went to Chris, who had a small smile on his face. He made a gesture like he was trying to get her to say something.
“Does he want me to tell them?” She thought.
She shook her head.
Both of the twins glanced back at Walker, who looked away and stalked off back to the guest bedroom. He gave a small ruffle of Violet’s hair before he left.
“Something going on?”
“Or perhaps a secret we don’t know about?”
She felt her heart thump in her chest.
“Um, no. Just, uh, something that happened earlier…last night,” she said slowly.
“Oh?”
“Tell us then.”
“Yes, tell us.”
They hunched over the kitchen table, curious and eager.
“Okay, well…jeez, I feel a little embarrassed even saying anything, but um…”
They both watched, and listened as they waited.
She pulled her hands up, folding them together over the table.
“I found…my dad. The one I told you two about.”
“Yes, you said he walked out.”
“Left your mother when she was pregnant.”
She nodded along with their words.
“Yeah, well, turns out he was right here all along,” she replied.
“What do you mean?” Eddie’s voice rang out behind her.
He made his way to the table, leaning over it as he listened intently.
“W-Well, I mean…”
She shook her head.
“Chris…is my dad. He’s my father,” she replied finally.
Eddie looked taken aback. The twins looked surprised. They both shared a moment of silence, contemplating this.
“So…he's your father?” Eddie asked finally, taking a chair from the table.
She pursed her lip, nodding her head.
“Yep, sure is,” she replied.
“It explains why you two look so much…”
“Alike.”
“It explains so much that I was missing. He talks so fondly of you now,” Eddie replied with a scoff.
“I feel a little awkward talking about it, but that’s the whole thing he wanted me to say.”
“So that’s why he was asking about the homework.”
“And his expression.”
Both the twins shared a cunning smile.
“HOLY SHIT!”
Trager’s voice rang out in the house, with a laughing fit.
“I think Richard knows now too,” Eddie said with a chuckle.
The twins laughed as well, joining in. Violet smiled.
“So how do you feel?”
“Knowing you have a father?”
She turned the thought over. On one hand she was angry, mad at him that he left, not even knowing. But he didn’t know, so on the other hand, she couldn’t blame him, even after he went to be interned as a patient.
“It feels good. I feel like I missed out on a lot, but I’m sure that can be fixed,” she said.
“Holy shit, you’re not going to believe what Walker just told me,” Trager said entering the living room kitchenette.
He came up behind Violet, shaking her shoulders.
“This kid is related to Walker! This is his kid!” He said, in disbelief.
“Yes, we know.”
“She told us.”
“And I was the last to know?!” He objected. “I’m hurt, and you didn’t have the heart to tell me?”
“Dad already told you!” Violet pointed out.
“Oh, well forgive me, I was busy trying to figure out if there was any dirt on Murkoff,” he replied, feigning innocence.
That night, the others went to bed. Violet was getting ready for bed herself, looking over at her father’s old photo, from before he went into the asylum. There was a sudden knock at her door.
“Just wanted to say goodnight,” Chris replied.
She smiled, still looking back at the photo.
“Whatcha got there, kiddo?” He asked, looming over her shoulder.
He looked down at the photo, his own face staring back at him.
“My old picture,” he muttered, taking it from her.
He looked at it further, turning it over to see the writing on the back. He snorted in response.
“I guess Upshur pieced together the relation before I did,” he said, handing the photo back to her.
She chuckled, putting it away in her drawer.
“He did. He even said I looked like you…before he died,” she said, her smile faltering.
He nodded, thinking before he spoke.
“You know, you can still talk to me about what happened inside that place. If you need to. You don’t seem to be…affected by what that… thing did to you,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.
What could she say to him? In a way that wouldn’t hurt him? Or make him angry? She looked up at him, seeing her same green eyes looking back at her.
“I’m still trying to figure out this whole parenting thing, so if you want to talk to me about it, you can,” he reassured.
She nodded her head.
“Hey, hey, look at me.”
He proceeded to crouch to her height, tilting her head up to look at him.
“It's okay if you don't want to talk, I understand. But I'm just worried about you,” he said, his tone gentle but his voice like gravel. “I'm not going anywhere.”
She felt herself wanting to cry. To say she missed him. Hated him for leaving. Asking why over and over for not answering her mother’s calls.
“I'm okay,” she said quietly. “I promise.”
He seemed satisfied by the answer, pulling her in suddenly as he hugged her. It felt foreign, but she reciprocated, hearing his heartbeat in his chest. He pulled back, patting her on the shoulders.
“Goodnight, kiddo,” he muttered quietly before he walked out of the room.
“Goodnight, Dad.”
~
Dreams of the asylum.
Except it felt real this time.
She could smell, see, hear everything.
People passed her without paying any mind.
Acts of murder were in the process, and she saw the familiar faces from before.
Trager, cutting off fingers, hands, and tongues. Eddie, not only decapitating victims, but taking a saw table and cutting off their genitalia. Her father, front and center, pulling guards up by their necks. Ripping their heads clean off.
She couldn't pull her eyes away from it, no matter how tight she shut them.
“Stop…”
Sounds of blood-curdling screams.
“Stop.”
Yelling. Screaming in pain. Father Martin’s screams as he burns on the cross.
“Stop!”
The silhouette of Miles, a smile on his face as the Walrider loomed over his shoulder. It looked like he muttered something, barely audible over the noise.
“STOP!”
And it all ceased. Quiet, once more.
She stood in the asylum, in the hall where it all started.
Bloody footprints and puddles lined the floor, an empty wheelchair flipped over with the wheel still spinning.
She breathed a sigh, hearing it echo off the walls.
“Little pig.”
Her skin felt cold, her throat tight. She turned, looked, seeing the large man looming over her like a predator with its prey.
“Dad–”
Before she could finish, he grabbed her by the neck. She struggled to breathe, looking down at him, seeing his face shift into the one she knew better. And then it changed back.
She screwed her eyes shut, hearing what was once the whispers in her head.
“I'll make the pain stop.”
His words were distant.
Replaced by a different voice.
“Violet?”
“Miles?”
She sat straight up in bed, gasping for air. She looked around her, before switching on the lamp beside her.
“Just a dream…just a dream,” she whispered to herself.
She had a cold sweat at the back of her neck, chills running down her skin in goosebumps. She groaned, rubbing at her face.
“How am I gonna get rid of this thing?”
Miles had said it lived with you, acting as a host. And the only way to get rid of it was to die, or be killed. So there didn’t seem like there was any other notion that it would die.
She just had to learn to live with it.