Kiss me, kill me

Chapter 1

Father had raised them for as long as they could remember. And they were grateful. Father taught them how to write, and read, and speak. And they were grateful. Father taught them right from wrong. And they were grateful. Father taught them manners. And they were grateful. Father taught them not to talk back to adults. And they were grateful. Father taught them that children were to be seen and not heard...And they were grateful. Father taught them how to know their place...and they were grateful. Father taught them how to stay in line. And they were grateful...Father taught them about rules and discipline...and they...were grateful. Father had taught them everything they'd ever known...and they...were...grateful...

He cared for them...loved them...more than anyone else ever could. He had loved them ever since...well...forever. He had given them everything they ever needed. He was...constantly...giving...and giving...and giving. Probably more than they deserved. That was how much he loved them. He always had. And he always would. Even if nobody else could...

He was the only person who had ever given them love...and they loved him back...as best they could.

He could be...rough around the edges at times...but that was no fault of his own. He was a very busy man...constantly stressed out by work on top of the added burden of raising them, and fighting back against the Kids Next Door. So really...they didn't mind...if he used them as his personal pincushion, every once in a while...it was the least they could provide in exchange for all the love and care he had given them over the years...

Besides they probably deserved the rough treatment...provided all the terrible things they'd done all their lives...they knew that they were hated by most people, and they honestly could not blame them...they knew they weren't really good children...they never had been...and perhaps they never would be.

But it was alright. They didn't mind that most of the world hated them. None of that mattered...because they had Father and they knew he loved them. And as long as they had that love, they couldn't ask for anything more.

They hardly remembered anything before the day Father had taken them in.

Though they did get tiny recollections once in a while...bits and pieces of memories they weren't quite sure belonged to them.

Every once in a while, they would hear familiar voices in their heads, though they weren't quite sure who those voices belonged to. Occasionally they would converse with them in their sleep. They didn't quite grasp what was happening but it made them feel a tad less lonely.

Sometimes they would remember exactly who they were and where they came from, but they would seem to fall into an amnesia-induced sleep shortly afterwards and only recall bits and pieces of their past lives.

It was troubling and filled them with anxiety. One day they decided to get a journal. There they could record any recollections of strange memories and conversations they shared between the strange voices in their heads. And maybe eventually they could decipher what the heck was going on. As they recorded the different scenarios they experienced, the pieces of the puzzle started to fit into place.

These bodies they were using...to do terrible terrible things...didn't even belong to them...who were they...where had they come from...and why were they using innocent peoples' bodies to commit awful awful crimes against other innocent children...it wasn't right...it only made them feel more guilty...they were awful dirty disgusting creatures who only served to commit vile acts of injustice...and for what...to be loved? To be recognized by Father? He wasn't even their real dad...He was just some rotten evil man who used innocent children to do his bidding...

They'd been trapped in this situation for so long that they had practically forgotten what life was like before they became delightful. And they felt like it had had a permanent effect on their personalities, as well as their lifestyle. So they just decided to accept that this was the way things were and that it wouldn't be changing. They were terrible people and they could never make up for the atrocious acts of malice they'd carried out. They could never take back any of the things they'd already done. And that was the cross they had to bear.

Sure, Father was an abusive jerk...but they felt like they deserved it. This was their punishment for agreeing to carry out such horrible acts in the first place. They knew that they could never go back to the simple, loving, carefree, and happy days they once had. They knew they could never go back to being the people they once were. And they knew that they could never be forgiven for some of the more extreme crimes they'd committed. And that...all of that...terrified them more than anything else.

They felt awful about everything. And they were scared of how they'd be treated if they ever dared to try to enter society as normal people.

They had terrible nightmares about the things they'd done and they felt eternally haunted by them. It made them want to throw up...some of the things they'd done. No matter what they did, they were doomed to an eternity of misery and shame. On top of all the trauma caused by Father, it was just too much.

They held each other tightly as they cried out in their sleep. There was no escape. They were in this terrible lifestyle and they could never change.

The Delightful Children couldn't concentrate on anything anymore. They were too distracted, too depressed. They had started letting their grades slip, because they couldn't concentrate during class. And they stopped showing up at their afterschool activities. They knew they'd get in trouble with Father but what did it even matter...what did anything matter anymore...

They were going to get punished no matter what they did, so what was even the point in trying? They might as well just get used to it and start numbing out the pain.

Their popularity started to decline once they stopped caring about their grades and social activities. They were kicked out of their private lunch table and forced to sit with the normals kids and dorks. It didn't really matter though. Those popular kids were never their real friends anyway. They only cared about power, and social standing.

They stopped spending extra time to groom their hair, get dressed up, and apply makeup to their "perfect" faces. They just didn't have the energy, and didn't frankly care. They ditched their fancy school uniforms and started wearing baggy jeans and big sweaters with plain sneakers. They didn't really care how they looked. As long as it didn't take them an hour to get dressed. Ashley started wearing her hair in a ponytail, because it was long and got in the way. And Constance stopped styling her hair altogether. She just didn't feel like it. Her hair was usually straightened to go along with her "proper" aesthetic, but it was naturally curly and bouncy. Lenny stopped wearing his football helmet. He didn't need it anymore now that he'd stopped showing up to football practice. He started combing his hair so that his bangs hung in his face and covered his right eye. David started parting his hair with barettes and tied it back so that he could see properly. And Bruce just slathered his in hair gel and made it stick up in every direction so that he wasn't the only one with "perfect" hair.

Father was not happy about their behavior, but they just shrugged and said "Who cares?"

Even when he threatened them with punishment, they didn't flinch. They only stood by and waited for Father to act on his promises. They might as well get it over with. It wasn't as if they had anywhere to be anyway.

Once Father realized he no longer held power over them, he held up his fist and shouted "You have gotten on my last nerve!" But even that couldn't phase them.

And he stormed out of the room in a rage.

At school they had essentially sunken to the bottom of the food chain. Bigger kids used this as an opportunity to take advantage of their vulnerability. But anytime someone threatened them with bullying they only responded with, "Okay. Go right ahead."

"Huh? Aren't you going to run away?"

"What's the point?"

How lame. It wasn't fun if they didn't struggle.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Oh I dunno...lots of things," they responded as nonchalantly as ever.

"You're weird!" the bully shoved them against a wall and left.

The Children sunk down to the floor and watched as he left.

They bitterly laughed to themselves. How pathetic they'd become. Not that anyone cared, either way.

At lunch they tried to find a place to sit, but even the nerds were saving their seats for other people.

The Delightful Children gave up and decided to sit on the floor. People either wouldn't give up their seats because they knew who they were and despised them, or because they had lost their popularity status and the unpopular kids could use that as an excuse to ostracize them. So they'd finally gotten their just desserts had they? That was fine. It was what they deserved anyway. They had earned their way to the bottom of the food chain and they weren't planning on making their way back up anytime soon.

But no. It wasn't enough. It was never enough. No matter how low they had sunken they couldn't repay all they wrongs they'd done and they knew that.

Were they even worthy of their title anymore? The Delightful Children from Down the Lane? Who were they? There weren't any delightful children here. Only a few depressed kids trying to make their way through their daily lives. No they were the delightful children, no more. They went by a different title now. A more fitting one. The Depressed Kids from Down the Street. Yes, that was more accurate.