Broken Hands ; mepperfield (historical creepypasta fanfiction)

9- mud fields and rain on her cheeks

Kyle snuck deeply within the soft sheets of his bed. It wasn't even tea time yet he wished his day would just come to an end already. Heck, he wished everything would come to an end. It had been that way all week long. Days after days he laid early within his covers, letting the plates of food his siblings brought him go cold on the floor. He ate a few leftovers each morning , only to gather the strength to walk to the fountain, where a stone bust had been placed in honor of her. It was originally throning proudly in the Finch's dining room along with her stone siblings. Every single time he couldn't even bear to look at her face for longer than a few seconds before to explode in tears. On this day it had seemed as if she was crying as well, rain was showering on her cheeks and pearling into the fountain, doing little clickety sounds. This time only, he wasn't alone. Tim had joined him. However they had not looked at each other nor exchanged a single word. Kyle knew he had been kept in jail for a few days. No one had been harsh with him , Suzanne had explained to Kyle one afternoon, but they obviously had suspicions on him and kept him locked to avoid any complications during the investigation. Twenty stabbing wounds. The one who had killed his childhood friend whom he considered as close as a sister, must have had some sort of deep harsh hatred toward her. Why? She wasn't popular in town to say the least, but nowhere near disliked to the point of being brutally murdered. She had been an adult for less than a day by the time the murder had likely taken place. She had been stripped of her future , of the very essence of life when it had barely just begun.

Kyle did not suspect Tim in the least of course, he was his best friend, her friend. He was the one who carried her in his arm while playing near the windmill, the one who argued with her which cake was the best tasting of all, the one who helped her brush her hairs on school mornings when she had overslept. He was rough around the edges, would never express his affection directly, but he loved Mary as much as Kyle did. They both shared the grief of loosing a sister. 

The one person Kyle couldn't get his mind off , even tough it was heart stabbing, was Lottie. He was ravaged both by an unstoppable blazing anger and an heavy sorrow, drowning him down a cold stream of remorse and guilt. There had been this recurring dream of his, where he would meet his toddler self and a vile stranger , covered from head to toes in purple, face hidden behind a veil. Every single time they would deliver the same message; "He who seeks the flesh has come, and he brings death and sorrow along. Seek for shelter but be warned; Stay hidden in your words and your pairs will suffer his wrath." Kyle had been warned, and now his nightmares where wounding deeper and deeper with their claw, reminding him how he was the one at fault. How he had kept his mouth shut this entire time and how harder it was to speak every passing day. He would've loved for everything to go back to the way they where, but there was no coming back, nothing he could do, no matter how harsh the pain was, he was stuck within what he had done on that wicked day. 

Once the rain had toned down a bit, Kyle had left like the other days, heading home without addressing a single glance to Tim. He was not the least angry but his vocal string were tied together in a thin knot he couldn't begin to unravel. Once again he had cowered into his sheets and fell into a light dreamless sleep. What seemed like a few hours later, he had been awaken by chatter downstairs, which had been followed by what sounded like Suzanne and Oscar both crying, his father talking a few words and Edmund slowly walking his way up the stairs then up Kyle's ladder, and his bedroom's trapdoor opening. Without a sound, Kyle turned to face his eldest brother, quite concerned, tough he didn't see how things could get any worse at the moment. Edmund was avoiding his younger brother's glance, nervously brushing his dark hairs, seemingly trying his best to conceal his emotions, but Kyle could clearly read an unusual sorrow, and maybe even some notion of fear. His voice was low and monotone, taking a few pauses to breathe between his words. "The count is here , he would like to have a word with you. Its about.. mother.." Kyle's heart almost skipped a beat. Then it felt as if his whole body was turning horribly heavy in realization. His vision blurred with tears, but he made his way down his bed, almost falling on the floor before following his brother down the ladder. As he made every step to the kitchen, he couldn't help but make up the worst possible scenarios in his head. His mother was dead, he was convinced of it, he was gonna walk into the room and the count was going to announce him how his colleague had perished, how he was sorry for him and Kyle would have lost his loving mother, he would have lost yet another person so dear to him.