⚠️warning; this story will contain language, gore, and some sensitive topics. ⚠️
Words- 69,681
A family of murders, what could go wrong?
Growing up in New Orleans was fun for the most part. Well except for having to go home to a cruel father. (Y/n)...
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*Hell Nov. 29, 1935*
My body never truly went back to normal after that day. My crown of antlers seem to be a now permanent addition to my look. As are the twisted legs that make me stand two heads taller than I was a year ago. The scar at my neck stands prominent against skin that has paled three shades. I have lost all that resembled the doe I once was.
I am a wendigo now: hungry, full of anger, and never satisfied.
It's hard to believe that one year ago I lost everything that was precious to me. I was broken down and alone when he found me. And I am grateful he did for I am not as alone now.
When I reached out to caress my reflection in the mirror the glass shattered under my fingertips. My reflection now looks just as broken and fractured as I am. No matter how hard you try you can never put a mirror back together.
Across from my desk the broken mirror hangs on my wall. Around it spelt in blood are the names of who I lost: Mom, Dan, Harley, Alastor. The names of those I swear to avenge. I wasn't sent to Hell for nothing.
There's a knock at my door and I barely make a sound before a thin demon of skin and bone enters my office with a tray and glass. The churning red of blood mixing with the alcohol is mesmerizing as I reach for the drink off the tray. The taste it bitter and metallic on my tongue. I deep sigh passes my lips as I feel the nails on my fingertips retract.
"Siren." The demon's voice is barely above a whisper. I am sure the thing has no lungs. "They have found him."
My interests spikes as the demon reveals its information. I stand from my desk swiftly. "Where?" I ask.
The demon holds out a black envelope sealed with red wax. I take the envelope and with a swift swipe of one claw I tear the paper open. I pull the contents out. Three photos and a map. I spread the map on my desk. A building just north is circled with red ink. The photos are of the very building. The last photo is of my father walking into the building. He seems relaxed as he walks around my territory. My fingers tap rhythmically on the desk as hate fills my mind at the thought of my father.
Memories flash in front of my eyes. Destruction. Fire. Blood. Death.
My bruised hands brushed my mother's hair out of her face before closing the eyes that dulled.
I wince and blink the memory away. I need to focus.
"This is recent?" I ask without looking away from the map and pictures.
"Yes, Siren. Stitches is there now. She sent these as soon as she had conformation." The demon explains.
I hum to myself. "Send word to Stitches. I'm heading up now." I turn around to face the demon. It nods and jots the information down on a piece of paper before rolling it up. The paper disappears as it teleports to my spy, Stitches. My feet click against the ground like deadly hooves as I stride over to the door.
