Everytime (American Horror AU 5)

Chapter 8

NOTE: This chapter is written in the form of a flashback—it is still in the third-person. However, the flashback reverts to normal third-person at the line.

Britta had not remembered much about her resurrection—everything was just a vague memory. She had only remembered being on the Other Side beyond time and memory and details about her life before death.

Born on June 3, 1935 on the island of Gotland in the Baltic Sea, Britta's early life up until young adulthood was filled with tragedy, abuse, and strife. She was orphaned at age four after a fire tore through her family farm with their house included; at the age of five, she was adopted by a family from the northern part of Sweden. They were distant at first, but their treatment of Britta only got worse as they discovered she had powers—they beat her, neglected her, isolated her by locking her in closets or the freezing-cold cellar, and subjected to harsh verbal and mental abuse. Olaf, her foster father, had been an alcoholic, yet the family as a whole was devoutly religious even to a fanatical degree. Olaf and his wife, Marta, had a grown son named Lars, who was clearly mentally unstable. Her life of self-blame and shame would only get worse after one fateful night.

Starting at age thirteen, Lars had sexually abused Britta. His height was a staggering six-foot-five and his large-boned build and strength gave him an even more frightening aura. He had platinum blonde hair cut close to his head, and his eyes were as icy as his stone cold heart. They radiated a pale, blue-gray color; his gaze was intense enough to frighten his mother. Britta had always known there was something wrong with him mentally, but he was simply deviant. He had ripped her flower of innocence away from her as she tried to sleep one peaceful night, nearly crushing her windpipe in an effort to keep her silent. Lars had his way with the girl four times within the following two years—at least until she found out she was pregnant with his child. She had secretly gone to the doctor after school one day after experiencing a high fever and vomiting, but she did not know they were signs of being with child—she just thought she was ill.

Yet when she found out the truth, she rushed home and hid in the cellar after grabbing a kitchen knife. Britta has planned to kill herself, not being able to take life as she knew it anymore. She hid underneath the empty stairwell, rolled up the sleeve of her thick sweater and took the knife to her left wrist, applying a lot of pressure as the blade sliced across veins and tissue. It was excruciating, but she knew she had to die in order to find happiness at last. With her wrist bleeding uncontrollably, she took the knife in that hand and sliced open the other one in the same fashion, if not deeper, than the other.

"Father," she had whispered. "Please forgive me."

Marta, her foster mother, had come downstairs after hearing noises, and when the girl cried for help, she backed away and held out her cross pendant as though she were a vampire or some other lower, 'unholy' form of life. Leaving her there to die from blood loss or infection, she had run upstairs to dial the phone to find a place to put Britta once and for all—Konradsberg.

It had been a dark chapter in Britta's life during the time she was confined in the Stockholm mental institution in 1950—she was categorized as delusional, especially since she fiercely stood behind her claims that she had powers. The main reason at first was being suicidal, and the first month or so had been devoted to psychoanalysis. It wasn't until after that the doctors found out she was pregnant, so an abortion was performed. After the operation, Britta was in excruciating pain, begging to leave the institution.

"Are you causing trouble again?" the doctor asked. Britta shook her head, her gaze piercing up at him.

"No," she replied. "I don't belong here. I know that for a fact."