RWBY: The Stepmother

Chapter 15: Jacques Confesses

Whitley didn't show up for breakfast the next morning. Weiss, Winter, and Mother were the only ones at the table. Jacques never showed up for these meals anymore. He stayed in his office everyday and never came out, not even for meals. As a result, the Schnee Dust Company was quickly losing its profits, no longer the powerful monopoly it once was. The board members tried everything they could to keep the company afloat, even without the CEO, but it eventually became clear that the SDC would soon go bankrupt if nothing was done about it.

As of now, however, not one person in the Schnee family gave a damn about the future of the company. After Whitley didn't appear for lunch or dinner that day, Weiss and Winter knew that he had gone missing. It didn't take a genius to figure out who was responsible.

After three whole days of not seeing hide nor hair of Whitley, Weiss finally mustered up the courage to walk up to Mother and ask her where her brother was. Mother only smiled down at her and patted her on the head. "Your brother has been a naughty boy, my Snow Angel," she said. "Don't worry, he is in safe hands. But you will never see him again."

Shaken by what she had heard, Weiss went to find Winter and told her what Mother had said about Whitley. Needless to say, neither of them had a good night's rest that night.

More time went by. The sisters had come to accept that Mother was forever going to be a part of their lives, so they might as well get used to it. They did what Mother said without any resistance or rebellion. They bent over backwards for her. They forced smiles on their faces and pretended to be happy around her. They let her sing to them, kiss them, and tuck them in every night. They did everything they could to make sure she would never have a reason to hurt them ever again, even at the cost of their own freedom. And of course, their own dreams.

Winter had always wanted to join the Atlesian Army, and Weiss had always wanted to leave Atlas and become a Huntress. But now, with Mother in the picture, neither of their dreams were going to come true. Escaping the iron grip of their father was one thing, but Mother was on an entirely different level. She was never going to let them go. She could call them her children all she wanted, but they knew the truth. They were her prisoners, not her children.

To them, it really seemed like this was going to be their lives from now on...

...Until one day, when Jacques called them into his office for the first time in months.

Weiss and Winter entered their father's study, not really knowing what to expect. What they saw was more disturbing than they could've imagined. His room was a mess. Books were strewn all over the place, some of them with their pages ripped out. Some of the furniture were knocked over or torn to shreds. The walls were covered in nonsensical scribbles that neither of the sisters could make heads or tails of. And sitting at his desk was Jacques.

Upon seeing him, the sisters thought he was dead. He was malnourished and emaciated beyond recognition, looking more like a skeleton than a man. His suit was in tatters and covered in stains, and it didn't even fit him anymore, hanging around him like a cloak. Tufts of hair were all that remained on his head, and his eyes were sunken deep in his skull. Jacques slowly lifted his head up at them. He barely had the energy to make the slightest movements.

"Close the door," he spoke, his voice barely beyond a hoarse whisper. "Hurry. Close the door. Mother cannot hear this." Weiss quickly went to shut the door and locked it.

The sisters stood and waited. Jacques was taking deep breaths of air. It was clear he was having trouble breathing. He may not have even had much longer to live. "I have to tell you two something," he whispered. "About Mother. I know her. We've met before, a long time ago. I was only a child back then, around Whitley's age. I was born in a rich and prestigious family, but not impressively so. We owned quite a few dust stores, but that was all. I had a father, a mother, and an infant sister. Her name was Annabelle. We had a good life. Until my mother died. In the same way as your mother. She died in her sleep. We called in our family doctor. He could not explain what happened. Only that all of her internal organs had shut down at once.

We did what any other family would do. We mourned. We grieved. We moved on. Then, Mother arrived at our doorstep. She looked different back then. Not as tall, had blond hair, dark skin... but it was her, all right. You could tell by the permanent smile on her face, and the eyes that stared into your soul, hiding a terrible evil behind them... She forced herself into our lives, made us her toys. We were powerless to stop her. That doesn't mean we tried. Dear Oum, did we try. My father and I tried everything. We poisoned her food. Ran her over. Burned her alive. Chopped her up into pieces and buried her remains. And yet, no matter what we did, she never stayed dead. She would always arrive back at our door the next day, good as new.

Finally, Mother had had enough. She went up to Annabelle's room and took her from her crib. She held her by the leg, and... s-s-she killed her. She bashed my sister's head against the wall right in front of us. She kept on bashing her head in, over and over, until... Annabelle was nothing but mush. I think... that was the day when my father stopped fighting her.

For years, we were her prisoners. We couldn't call the police. We couldn't tell anyone. Then, after all that time had passed... I think she grew tired of us. Even now, I am not entirely sure. One day, she was just... gone. Gone from our house. Gone from our lives.

My father and I checked the house for her. We checked in every nook and cranny. We wanted to be absolutely sure that she was gone. Afterwards, we hugged each other and wept. We celebrated by going to the beach that day. But my father was never the same. He became depressed after that. He started taking heavy drugs. He lost his businesses. Not long after, he put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. In the end... I was the only survivor."

Weiss and Winter stared at him with wide eyes as they let it all sink in. But Jacques was not finished. "The reason why I am telling you this now... is because I'm most likely going to die soon. I can feel it. I wanted to get it off my chest before that happens." Suddenly, he seemed to gain a new burst of energy, sitting up in his chair with wide eyes. "But listen!," he gasped. "There may still be a way to save yourselves! Here..." He reached in his suit pocket and took out a slip of paper, then held it out with a shaking hand. "One of you... hurry and take it..."

Winter quickly took the slip of paper from Jacques' hand and saw that there was writing on it. "It's... a scroll number," she said. Jacques slowly nodded. "Keep that on you at all times, or commit it to memory if you have to," he whispered. "And when the time is right, call that number! It just might save your lives." The once proud CEO of the Schnee Dust Company began crying. "Winter, Weiss... I am sorry for how I've treated you both. You and Whitley. I was a terrible man, a terrible husband, and a terrible father. I hope... that this will... make up for it..."

Jacques slumped in his chair. His arms went limp. His eyes went out. He was dead.