Broken Hands (Evan Peters x Reader)

Prologue: No Touch

Your parents had told you multiple times that having you , meant the world to them. You had believed that those words were a lie. You didn't mean the world the world to them. You were a monster, and abomination. Something that shouldn't be set out on the world. You had been normal in the beginning but as you grew, things around you began to change

You were only three years old then. You did everyday things toddlers did. Begged for attention, cried when you didn't get what you wanted and of course dedicated many hours of your time to playing.

That was one of many things you enjoyed doing, until one day as you picked up one of your favorite dolls, it seemed to disintegrate in your hands. Pale ash fell through your fingers, tumbling to the floor.

Your only reaction was you bursting into tears. And just at that sound your mother came tearing into the room.

"(y/n), what's wrong, sweetheart?" She asked you.

You only continued to cry, even when she pulled you into her arms.

""Oh, (y/n) don't cry. I'm sure whatever it is, it's going to be fine sweetie, It's just- Ah!" Your mother let out a piercing shriek, seconds after you had wrapped your arms around her neck. She lost your grip on you and you fell from her arms, you hit the floor which was only luckily to be just a few inches.

She was holding her neck, red welts in the shape of your hands appeared against her light skin. Your father came running along into the room, clearly alarmed by your mothers yell.

"Honey, what's wrong?" He asked, before his eyes landed on the red marks against your mother's skin. "What happened?"

She shook her head. She was fazed and had no idea as to what exactly happened. "I don't know, it just felt as if someone was burning my skin."

Your father's eyes then went to you, sitting on the ground still wailing at the top of your lungs. "Sweetheart, everything's fine." He held his hand out which you took so reluctantly, but then immediately afterwards he pulled his hand back letting out a loud yelp.

He held his hand up to see and just like your mother's neck, his hand began to break out in red lumps. He looked at you in awe and then back at your mother.

"No way..." He muttered, blinking a few number of times. "She couldn't have caused this..."

You smacked your hands against the ground, still sobbing and just as your palms hit the floor, it began to wither and crack from underneath you. "Daddy!"

"S-Sweetheart...." Your mom began to say, her face still twisted into an expression of pain. "Why are you crying?"

You pointed towards the ash sifted around on the ground. "My doll it broke!"

"Honey..." Your father started, there was fear in his voice. "This isn't..."

"Don't you dare say anything!" Your mother snapped, she got to her feet. "Come here honey. Stop crying."

You threw yourself into her arms, and once more as your hands laid across her skin, the blisters began to form.

That only seemed to be your father's last straw as he pulled you away from your mother, setting you back down onto the floor. He gripped her hand and yanked her up. "This...this isn't normal."

"Mommy!" You started to cry coming towards them.

"No...no sweetheart...stay there." Your father persuaded with a large amount of sympathy in his voice. He didn't want to admit it, but he was scared. He was in fear that one more touch would send either him or your mother to their death.

"Daddy! Mommy!" You screamed as the door was slammed shut. You darted over to it and began to pound your tiny fists against the door. The door didn't stay whole for long and it began to crumble to the floor in pieces. Your father brought your mother back.

"This isn't natural." He began to say.

"You can't just treat her like this!" Your mother screamed. "She's our little girl."

"She's not our little girl! She's not even human!"

You didn't understand, you were so young. The only thing you wanted now was the embrace of your mother and your favorite doll. You didn't want anything else.

All over again, you began to cry.

"Mark!" Your mother screamed. "Stop this right now!" Finally, she broke from his grip rushing over to you with a smile on her face. "Honey, don't cry..." She mumbled, her hands stroking your hair. She held you tight, tight enough where you couldn't move your arms.

"Cheri...she's dangerous. What are you doing?"

"I'm hugging our daughter." Your mother hissed back before going back to whispering in your ear. "I love you sweetheart, and I'll get you a new doll okay?"

You cried into her shoulder, all while your father only seemed to stare you down. He knew, he knew something wasn't right, but your loving mother wasn't going to be able to see right through it. Your mother had been too much through the pregnancy. She had wanted to have a child so bad and after many times of trying, her and your father had given up.

You had came out of nowhere, that is why you had meant so much to them. You were their miracle child, their only child, and you were special.

Now in other words you were special. Your father was processing that, and he knew what you would be able to do, but you were his daughter and he couldn't look at you in this light.

You were a monster and that was all he would ever see.