Your real family

12

Tubbo laid in one of the posh bushes placed in front of the Watson's house. He watched as the bright, summer sun dimmed out into night. This was the moment he'd planned on striking, why was he hesitating?

The gunshot filled his mind again, he couldn't unhear it, and whenever he came anywhere close to this house, it grew louder. He felt his hands sticky with blood , but ignored them when he realised it was just mud.

As soon as he gathered himself, he creeped out of the bushes and sneaked to the shockingly semi-opened window. He took a deep breath before slipping through the window and into the cold, chilling house. His heart dropped when he saw that exact section of the hallway in the corner of his eye, the one which changed his life forever. He shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself back on the task at hand before creeping through the hallway and into the living room, more specifically, the fireplace.

The fireplace was antique looking, a stoned outer shell arching over the glass which protected the fire. It soared up towards the roof where the chimney supposedly was. Tubbo looked around it, eyeing its details sufficiently. When he couldn't find anything out of the ordinary from his eyes, he sneaked over towards it to take a closer look.

He ran his hand down the rusty and bumped outer skirt before taking a closer look at the tools resting adjacent to the fireplace. Something about them was off. Just like it read his mind, as soon as he pulled the spade, a rumbling sound sounded from the fireplace. It rumbled until it eventually gave way. Dumbfounded, Tubbo found himself crouching down and sneaking through the unprotected entryway. He found it lead to a cramped and claustrophobic tunnel which seemingly stooped upwards at a consistent pace.

Without a hint of reluctance, he crawled arduously through the constricted and sparse tunnel way until he made it to a small, ligneous trapdoor just forth from him. Tubbo huffed a breath before creaking the door open, revealing a furnished, colourful room. But what was inside was what made his heart drop.

Tommy lay on the ground, seemingly asleep, but his leg... one of his legs were gone.

Tubbo almost screamed out of pure fear and frustration at what his family had done to him. He mourned the loss of his best friend whilst grieving the loss of his other best friend. How much more could he take before he met his own violent end? Would there ever even be an end?

"Tommy..." Tubbo neared towards him, hands outstretched towards the rigid, blonde boy. He slept so peacefully that you could hardly tell the trauma which had been brought upon his eyes.

Tommy shuffled in his sleep, but didn't awake. Tubbo knelt down beside him and placed a hand on his shoulder, a tear sliding down his cheek and plummeting to the dusty and frigid flooring. The air was ice cold and the atmosphere was so silent that you could hear a pin drop.

And if you could hear a pin drop, you could hear footsteps pounding the flooring behind him.

Tubbo flipped around to see Techno, Phil and Wilbur standing maliciously over him, their eyes glaring at him in such a disturbing manner.

Tubbo almost flinched once he saw the perfectly sharpened silver blade Techno wielded in his bandaged arm.

Blood was already smeared onto the metallic point. Tubbo did not want to know where it came from.

"Tubbo." Phil muttered through gritted teeth.

Tubbo winced at the rage in his shrill voice.

"What are you doing here?" Wilbur asked, finishing off the elder man's sentence.

Tubbo instinctively backed away and flung himself up onto his two, timid legs, using the crusty wall as a support balancer.

Techno approached Tubbo in a horrifyingly fast pace, knife swinging side to side from hand to hand. His plaited pink hair swung at his side diligently like a rehearsed dancer.

Now Techno was over him, his knife posed in a threatening position; tip down, handle up. Tubbo felt the life drain from his face. He had to think of something to do, anything to buy himself some time.

"W-wait." He stuttered reluctantly, holding his hand out and over his head in a defensive gesture. "I have a question."

Techno looked back at Phil's dull, brown eyes and pallid cheeks. Phil did not do anything over stifling a nod. Hesitatingly, Techno lowered his knife but still kept Tubbo in his near clutches, his hand enclose around his neck and the other around his arms.

"Go ahead," Techno said reluctantly, more out of the will of his father than him himself.

"Well," Tubbo wondered if this would be the last thing he'd say. 'Well', that's a stupid last word; I'd personally rather a saying more intricate than the simple word: 'Well'. He continued nonetheless. "I was wondering out of pure curiosity, what else did you do? How far did you go to get Tommy on your side?"

The family seemed to enjoy that question, it likely made them feel more proud of themselves.

"Well," Phil would answer this question this time. "We started off by murdering his parents. It was a fairly simple task, just had to break in and murder them with a hatchet." The family broke into a fit of manic laughter.

Tubbo looked back at Tommy who was slouched in the background, head propped against the wall and snoring.

Little did they all know, Tommy in fact was not asleep, he was awake. And he heard everything.

(Sorry for the big break. I've lost a lot of motivation in this book, but I'll try to bring it to an end for you guys)