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haro-whumps · 4 years

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Group Whumpees 6: Breaking Point

CW: transphobia, implied/referenced noncon, panic attack, shitty family relations, manipulation (sort of? Just in case), slavery, aftermath of abuse, multiple whumpees, defiant whumpee (but not for long! >:D)

Tag list: @bleeding-demon-teeth @theycomeinthrees @redwingedwhump @whimperwoods @inpainandsuffering @whole-and-apart-and-between @whump-whump-whump-it-up @whumpingupastorm @newandfiguringitout @lonesome--hunter @looptheloup @deluxewhump @whumping-every-day @yeet-me-out-a-window @what-a-whumpy-world @burtlederp @constellationwhump @swordkallya @finder-of-rings @fairybean101

Special thanks to @icannotweave for inspiring some of the events in this chapter and chatting w me about it :3

Masterlist

The moment his phone was turned back on, it rang, and the ensuing conversation with his father pissed him off. His voice was loud, his free hand a fist, his face turned down in a snarl.

Master Galo was nearing his breaking point, Evan knew it. He might not have understood the nice guy act, but this? He knew this. He supposed he should be grateful it hadn’t come out at Lilah, that morning, that the bandages on his thick arm hadn’t been the final push needed to get him to snap, but he was going to snap soon. Evan didn’t know why he hadn’t yet, what about his weird mindgame was so important to him, why he wanted the five of them to believe he was so nice and shit, but it would be soon.

Greyson had provoked Master Galo, that first meeting. As far as Evan knew, he was the only person in their family to confront Greyson about it, wondering why Greyson was suddenly the provocative one. Greyson hadn’t said much in answer, just cleaned his glasses and asked Evan not to do anything foolish, himself, which was infuriating in its own right.

Honestly, almost everything that had happened since Mistress’s death had pissed Evan off. Their Master refused to give them clear rules, but starved them for not following them anyway. He didn’t want Attended, and he didn’t beat them when they fucked up, he hadn’t reminded a damn one of them of their place despite the fact that he obviously could. Did he think the sight of him was enough to make them cower? Did he expect them to take one look at his broad ass chest and heavy fucking arms and fall over themselves to please him?

It made Evan’s teeth grind that, if that were the case, Master would be right. He didn’t need to do shit; they were terrified of him anyway. Was that the game? To be friendly and sugar-sweet and smiley and happy go fucking lucky while his physique and their own hunger kept them weak-kneed and trembling before him? Or did he just like the anticipation of it all? Knowing he could bring the hammer down on them at any moment and laughing at them with every twitch and jump because they all knew it was coming, but only he knew when?

Fuck this guy! Fuck him and his stupid face and his broad hands and how he was able to bring them to their knees without even lifting a finger! Evan’s arms were shaking with his anger, with the unspent tension of multiple days.

He couldn’t take this.

He knew he’d promised Nyla, but he couldn’t take this. He couldn’t take the arrogance of it all and he couldn’t take the waiting and the waiting and the fucking waiting! He’d eaten a few hours ago, so if Master resumed starving him he could take it. Master was strong, but Evan was too. He could take it. And he would, because if it wasn’t Evan that Master Galo finally erupted at, it would be somebody else.

“I’m not having this conversation anymore!” Master Galo shouted, pacing the sunroom, each heavy footstep resounding loudly. “Dad, I don’t care! Okay? I don’t care! I’ve been busting my ass over here and all you’ve done is call me to complain, repeatedly. I’m done. I’m blocking your number. Don’t call me, don’t call the house, do not speak to me until tomorrow.”

Master Galo hung up, jamming his thumb against the flat screen of his phone with unnecessary force, and prowled over to the artisanal table he’d set the wine bottle on (Evan had been the one to bring the table into the house, and Mistress had rapped his knuckles harshly when he’d set the heavy wood down carelessly, too loud). The wine bottle had been mostly full that morning, and was now half empty. Master Galo drank straight from the bottle, and clearly did not know he was being observed.

He was pissed. He was injured. (Lilah had injured him, a fact Master Galo wasn’t likely to forget). If Evan was going to hit that breaking point, now was the time to do it.

Instinctive, animal fear pooled behind his ribs and below his gut, laced through the anger already wiring his teeth against each other and making his clenched fists shake. He knew what he was doing was stupid, but he was done waiting and wondering when Master Galo would hurt one of them.

He didn’t knock (punishable) and didn’t address Master Galo when he was seen (punishable).

“Evan,” Master Galo said with a sigh, setting the bottle back down, and Evan did not go to him to kiss his hand (punishable) and he did not kneel with his forehead to the floor (Sasha and Evan had that as a special rule for them, since neither of them “knew how to behave.” He didn’t know if that was punishable or not, for Master Galo, but still, he did not do it).

“Good, actually, I was gonna go look for you. Help me bring in the flower arrangements Lilah made,” Master ordered, not as much effort going into his nice guy routine, turned away from Evan and doing something on his phone (likely blocking his father’s number, like he’d promised).

Well, they had all agreed that there was one good way to make Master angry, that first morning.

“Yes, Mistress,” Evan said very deliberately, hurling the word at Master Galo’s back, and he heard Master’s phone case crack.

Master looked at him, eyes wide and angry, and Evan felt a rush of fear, of “now you’ve done it” rise in him like bile. But he maintained eye contact, wanting Master to know it was deliberate, that he’d said it intentionally. Summoning his anger, he jerked his chin forward. Do something about it.

Master made a strangled noise and rubbed over his face with a hand, shifted his weight onto one leg and tapped the toes of his shoe against the floor with the other, and ducked his head down while pushing his fingers through his hair. He propped the hand with his phone against his hip and waved his finger at Evan, then lifted his head. “Actually, you know what? Why don’t you go grab Nyla and have her come here?”

Nothing could’ve more effectively dropped the floor out from under Evan’s feet. The anger and tense fear, the readiness, the thought that he could handle whatever was about to come at him was instantly replaced with guilty horror.

“No!” Evan screamed, dropping to the floor, grinding his forehead against it. “No, Master, Master, please! No, sir, Master, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Master Galo made a noise, some sort of annoyed groan, and asked, “Can we not do this?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry sir I’m sorry Master I’m so sorry, I won’t ever do it again I swear, please, please don’t--”

“Yeah, I’m just. I’m just gonna--” Master Galo said, walking past Evan, and he lurched, grabbed Master with both hands, one around his belt and the other in the hem of his shirt.

“No! Please, punish me, punish me!” Evan begged, crying, knowing he was, his voice gone high and panicked. Inciting Master Galo was supposed to mean Evan got hurt, that he got to control the way Master Galo boiled over, not this, never this, not Nyla, “Please Master punish me!”

Master Galo pried at Evan’s fingers, and he knew refusing to let go instantly would just make it worse but he couldn’t! “I”m not going to--”

“Please!”

“Listen--”

“I’m sorry!”

“STAY.” Master successfully shoved Evan’s hands away from him, the order harsh and loud. “Stay here, don’t go anywhere,” Master ordered after, grip harsh but not quite bruising around Evan’s wrists.

Evan sobbed as he left, heavy footsteps audible. He stayed. He couldn’t afford to make this worse than it already was, not when Master was punishing someone else. Mistress Bethany had played many, many mindgames with them, but when she was pissed, she lost control. Evan could always count on that, and no one had ever been punished for his provocations.

But Master Galo was slower. He’d warned them of that day one. He was more methodical, clearly, and although he’d refused to beat them until now, clearly he knew how to hit where it hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Evan moaned into the vacant room, arms wrapped around his belly and forehead once again on the floor. He was shaking, sobbing, all anger gone and replaced only with fear, with shame, with an unbearable guilt.

“Evan?!” Nyla asked, alarmed, as she rushed into the sunroom. She ran in front of him and spun gracefully, sinking to her knees as she did in a flair of skirts, and he looked up at her worried face.

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed, because he was. He’d never been this sorry in his life.

“Master told me to come calm you down,” Nyla informed him in a scared rush, one hand to his shoulder and the other cupping his unworthy cheek. “Evan, what did you do?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated shakily, “I provoked him, I’m sorry--”

“You provoked him!?” Nyla hissed, fingers digging into his shoulder and he choked.

“I’m sorry!”

“Why would you provoke him!?” Nyla scolded, her composure ruined, “He’s been in a bad mood all day this is the worst time to make him angry!”

“I h--” Evan hiccuped on a sob, raising a hand to clench at his vest, fingers digging into his chest. “I couldn’t take the waiting, anymore, I wanted to have it over with.”

“Idiot!” she hissed. “Idiot!” she repeated, louder. But oh, that wasn’t the worst of it.

“He was going to punish you, instead,” Evan confessed, body shuddering and involuntarily casting forwards. “He was--I begged him not to but he didn’t--”

“Where are the others?” Nyla asked, voice hollow, and Evan felt another icy hand of fear grip his heart. If not him, Nyla. If not Nyla, someone else.

Evan struggled to his feet, wiping at his face that wouldn’t stop crying, and was stupidly grateful for the arm Nyla wrapped around his waist to brace him.

Sasha was in the kitchen, thank god, and was alarmed and surprised to see them, thank god.

“I fucked up,” Evan explained, Sasha’s wide eyes darting between them. “I pissed him off, he’s--smart.”

“He’s punishing someone else in Evan’s stead,” Nyla said quietly, and Evan leaned heavily on the counter as Sasha instinctively took a step back, her hands raised over her chest. “Where are Grey and--”

The other kitchen door opened, and Greyson walked in. Which just left one unaccounted for.

“Lilah,” Evan cried, despair seizing him as he collapsed. He sobbed into his hands, distantly aware that Greyson asked a question, and Nyla answered it. Sasha knelt in front of him, but he didn’t deserve her comfort.

Mistress Bethany had never done made him like this. Oh, he’d cried for her. He’d begged. But not like this, only ever out of pain or fear or exhaustion, never this. He could take the cane or boiling water or her nasty over-long fingernails, he could take the exhaustion and the hunger, he could take the words that somehow managed to cut like knives despite how often he told himself he didn’t care what the bitch said. But he couldn’t handle knowing that Lilah, little Lilah, was on the other side of an eruption that he had caused.

Nyla’s skirts entered his field of vision, the hem of her apron stained from an old spill. She stood close with her feet spread, the way she only got when she was angry (he deserved it), and he lifted his heavy head, breath hitching as he cried.

“You promised,” Nyla stated, the words damning.

“I’m sorry,” he squeaked. He’d keep the promise, now. He’d never piss off their Master again, not after learning that he would punish the others for Evan’s mistakes. He’d listen to Nyla, he’d take her advice and obey her as the leader of their family.

“You promised,” Nyla repeated, and the betrayal in her voice hurt worse than anything Mistress Bethany had ever, ever done. Nyla was not a violent person, but Evan almost wished she was. If she hit him for this, it would be no less than he deserved.

She loomed over him, like this, lips pressed thin and fists balled at either hip, but she whirled, braced her hand on a countertop and ordered, “Evan, stay here with Sasha and calm down. Grey, avoid all of Master Galo’s usual haunts until dinner. No one talks to him unless he talks to them first.”

Evan let his head drop back down, biting back tears, his body jerking with each hiccup, and squirreled himself away in front of the pantry. Ideally, there, he wouldn’t be able to get in Sasha’s way, since she was doing her job and apparently the only thing he was good at was fucking things up for the rest of them. Why hadn’t he just behaved himself!? Why was seeing Master Galo break such a priority for him? Stupid fuckup, why wasn’t he the one bleeding and aching right now?

If he had the chance to do it over he’d take it in a heartbeat. He wished he could, he’d give anything, he’d do anything, if it meant his family didn’t get hurt. Hurt because of him.

He was supposed to be trying to calm down, but he couldn’t stop crying. It wasn’t until after Greyson had set the table and taken Master’s plate out to him that Evan finally wound down, accepting the glass of water Sasha gave him.

After Master ate, Sasha plated meals for Nyla and Greyson, then, more hesitantly, herself, and then she stared at Evan.

“Don’t,” he croaked, voice hoarse and raw, “I couldn’t keep it down, if I did.”

“H-he said…” Sasha murmured, gripping her left hand tightly in her right. “O-only if he r-revoked, I, I have to, m-make sure you all eat.”

Was that a subtle punishment, too? If they didn’t eat while nauseous, didn’t keep it down, that was a broken rule?

“But. But,” Sasha continued, voice whining higher, “if he r-revoked perm-mission and didn’t t-tell me, I--”

“Breathe, Sasha,” Greyson said, his hand on her shoulder, the one without the lock of hair she left loose to self-comfort with. “If he didn’t tell you, then be obedient. Even if he gets upset, Nyla and I can beg for you, that you were only following his directions. It’s a hard test for the first day with a new rule, but we’re here for you.”

Sasha took a deep breath and nodded, then looked to Evan again.

“I can’t,” he whispered miserably, “I’m nauseous; it’ll come back up.”

“Bread and water,” Nyla interjected, stabbing her fork into her own dinner. “It counts as eating, Sasha will have followed the rules. It’s light, it won’t come back up.”

Even though she was mad at him, she was still fixing his problems.

“Thank you,” he whispered, heart twisting with fondness even through everything else. He stood and washed his hands, promising Sasha he’d get it himself. She plated Lilah’s dinner, Evan cut off a hunk from the morning’s loaf, and he nibbled at it miserably.

“D-Do… you w-want to come w-with?”

See Lilah. Comfort her, maybe, from the very thing he’d caused. He turned his head away, ashamed.

He ate the bread, slowly, his stomach churning unhappily, when she left.

“She’s okay!” Sasha shouted--well, what counted as Sasha shouting--as she ran through the door on her return. “L-Lilah, she’s n-not hurt. She’s b-b-been Quiet a-all evening! N-nothing’s happened to her s-since lunch! She was c-confused, when I s-said we’d b-been sca-ared.”

Nyla gripped Sasha at the elbows, everyone’s attention on her. “Sh-she’s okay!”

Evan ran.

“Evan?” Lilah startled when he entered, and she was. She was okay. The relief stole his breath from him. “Evan, what’s happening?” Lilah asked as he crossed to her, barely remembering to toe off his shoes before climbing into bed, flinging himself at her and wrapping her in a bear hug. “Why did Sasha think I was hurt?”

“We all did,” he croaked, pressing his nose to her hair. She was alright. Master hadn’t hurt her.

She shook her head against his chest. “I told you earlier, remember? He wasn’t mad I hurt him.”

“No, no I--” Evan had to stop and swallow. It was shameful, to confess to it again. To recount how he’d acted, and how the others had almost gotten hurt because of it. Lilah smacked his head at the end of it, though nowhere near hard enough to hurt.

“Idiot,” she scolded. “Stop doing stupid things because you’re angry.”

“I won’t,” Evan promised with a wet chuckle, so relieved she was okay. “Never again.”

But if Lilah wasn’t hurt, that meant Master hadn’t punished anyone. It meant Evan had kickstarted some new stage to the mindgame; there was something left undone. Sure, maybe it fit into what Evan understood of Master Galo’s ploys that he was simply reminding Evan that he knew how to break him, so easily and so very thoroughly. Maybe this was just another show of power. Maybe Master Galo had realized Evan was trying to claim control, and had denied him even that.

Or maybe, Evan thought, as he lied wide-awake after his family had all fallen into an unsteady sleep, Master Galo was simply biding his time for when it would hurt the worst. The punishment was coming. It had to be.

Evan had one last chance to make sure the person punished was him.

He crept up the stairs, quiet despite the fact that he knew his family couldn’t hear him, here. He went to Mistress Bethany’s old room--largely untouched, just yet--and walked across the perfectly spotless carpet. One of his jobs, as housecleaner, was to come to this room every morning and scrub out the blood from whatever had happened the night before. If even a speck was left, he’d spend the following morning scrubbing without gloves to protect him from the harsh chemicals.

He was very good at cleaning. He wasn’t good at much else, but he could clean. And, he reminded himself as he opened the tool closet and lifted the heaviest wooden cane, he bruised very nicely. Mistress Bethany had beat him with this, him more than any of the others, trying to break him, trying to put out the final shreds of defiance in him, the rebellion he clung to, his anger. He tried to feel for that anger now, and felt nothing.

In less than a week, Master Galo had done what Mistress Bethany had failed to do over the course of a decade.

He gripped the cane below the handle and took a deep breath. Move gracefully. Don’t cry before it starts. Don’t emote with ugly expressions. Evan was no good at pretending to smile, but he could look submissive. He slid one hand down the cane, gripping it lower as he started to walk. The smooth wood raised goosebumps across his skin and bile in his throat, but now wasn’t the time to back down.

He wasn’t angry, this time, he wasn’t impatient or stupid. He’d do as he was meant to.

Don’t stutter. Don’t recoil. Flinching was okay but not too far, or it would look like a recoil. His footsteps, though quiet, seemed to boom inside his ears. As did his pulse, and his breathing. Thank Master Galo properly. Don’t panic, this time around.

That would be the hard one. The looming threat of what would happen if he failed--if he didn’t beg hard enough or right enough that Master Galo would punish him--had him on the brink of terror already, and they hadn’t even started yet. He bit down on that fear, with no anger left to shield him from it, and forcefully reminded himself, Don’t panic.

Knock on the doorframe. He did. Greet Master when acknowledged. “Master Galo.” Kneel. He did.

“Evan, why are you here?”

“I apologize, Master. I reacted poorly, earlier.” Evan lifted the cane in both hands, presenting it to the man that loomed over him like a nightmare. “I intentionally called you the wrong name, I shouted, I touched you without permission, and I was ugly in doing so. For these offenses, Master, please,” he hoped Master Galo hadn’t heard his voice crack on the ‘please,’ “punish me.”

The fear was building, compounding in on itself, too fast, but Evan kept his body rigid, immobile. He’d fucked up, so many times, he wouldn’t fuck up this one, he couldn’t. Even when he heard his Master take slow, thoughtful steps toward him: he kept his head down, his arms up. Even as each step sent him closer to a panic. Even as his breath threatened to break loose of his control, to speed up, ugly and audible.

Even as his Master’s shadow blocked out the moonlight.

Even as Master Galo took the heavy cane from his hands.

Galo needed to be very, very careful. He’d been hasty, earlier, impatient and irritated with this man misgendering him when he was already at the end of his rope thanks to his father. A couple laps around the property line and the familiar burn of lifting heavy objects and moving the floral arrangements inside had helped him cool off--a lot. But the damage was very clearly already done. Evan sounded wrecked.

The cane was solid wood, probably oak or some shit--heavy. If he hit Evan with this, he could kill him. Galo set it down and leaned it up against the chair in the room, overfull with his belongings. Having Evan sit there wasn’t really an option, not unless he wanted to dump the stuff out and he needed to be delicate, here.

Alright, what did Galo know? Evan thought Galo was still pissed at him (not entirely unreasonably). Evan wanted to be punished with a heavy fucking cane, due to #1. Something had spooked this guy--badly. Galo couldn’t carry on not knowing what that thing was, or else they’d wind up right back here again: with a slave kneeling just inside his doorway, ready for him to do terrible things to them.

“Evan, I’m gonna ask you some questions and you’re going to answer them honestly, okay?” Galo said, slowly walking back to his bed and sitting on the end of the mattress, patting next to him. “Will you come over here?”

“Yes Master,” Evan answered instantly, moving to get up but then hesitating. Okay, Galo’s bad, he did just say he’d be asking questions, not necessarily making suggestions via questioning.

“Come here,” Galo ordered gently, and Evan moved faster than Galo had ever seen him move. He didn’t sit on the mattress like Galo had hoped, but knelt at Galo’s side. “Sit on the bed, please,” Galo tried, and Evan moved again, still quick.

“Thank you.” Galo pat him, once, on the back. Evan did not have a history of responding well to touch, for all that Galo had seen him, so he didn’t plan on doing too much of it while they talked. “Now what’s all this about” was probably a redundant question, since Evan had literally listed off his offences when he came into Galo’s room.

Galo, predictably enough, spent too long thinking, because before he could even begin to formulate an intelligent question Evan whispered, “Anything.”

“Hm?”

“Anything, Master,” Evan stated, barely any louder, if at all, “I’ll do anything.” Slowly, deliberately, Evan moved his hand directly towards Galo’s crotch, and Galo was grateful for the speed because he didn’t have to snatch Evan by the wrist, just stop him.

“No, Evan, I’m not fucking you,” Galo said firmly, aware of his mistake too late. He must be tired, if he thought inviting Evan up onto the bed with him was a good idea. “Didn’t meant to imply--”

“Please,” Evan choked out, small.

“Evan?” Galo became aware that Evan was trembling in his grip.

“Please don’t hurt them,” Evan begged, sounding at the end of whatever rope he had, and Galo’s brow furrowed.

“Them?” he asked, “You mean, the others?”

“Please,” Evan repeated, “It was my mistake, I did it. Please, Master Galo, punish me.”

Galo bent to get a better look at Evan’s face, and he saw tears brimming there, inside a thousand yard stare.

“Hey, buddy,” Galo said, waving his hand in front of Evan’s face without even as much as a blink, “I’m losing you there.”

“They didn’t--” Evan choked.

“They didn’t do anything wrong,” Galo finished for him, gently.

“So please, please punish me,” Evan begged, the first tear spilling over, and Galo couldn’t think. He was tired, he was spent, it was late, he wanted to be asleep and not having this conversation but Evan was freaking out, and that was Galo’s responsibility to fix. “I’ll take anything, I’ll be quiet or loud or however you prefer, I deserve it Master, I’ll do anything you tell me to just please, please--!”

“Evan, stop talking,” Galo said, careful not to tell him to be quiet or shush or anything that might imply he wasn’t allowed to cry right now. Evan’s mouth shut, and Galo let go of his wrist in order to sling an arm around Evan’s shoulders, hugging him. He needed time. He needed to think, but thinking was so hard when he was so tired. He let Evan cry against his shoulder, the poor guy’s hands in fists at his sides, and Galo didn’t know how to fix it.

It looked like the only thing that would calm Evan down, at this point, would be to actually punish him. But Galo wasn’t going to hurt him, so, something else? But what would count as a punishment--enough that Evan would accept it as such--but not hurt him? Galo couldn’t think.

Oh! So he’d buy himself some time.

“Evan, tomorrow morning, meet me in the den.” Galo felt bad for even saying it, feeling Evan flinch under his arm, but it was supposed to be a punishment. “I’m tired right now,” not a lie, “so I’ll deal with you then.”

“Thank you Master,” Evan said, and Galo moved his hand to give Evan a little push on the back, mostly to help the man. “Thank you Master, thank you.”

“Go to sleep, Evan.” Galo watched him stagger to his feet, and stumble once on his way to the door.

“Yes, Master, thank you.”

Galo sighed and flopped back on his bed. He was making mistakes and his body felt like lead. He knew he had to climb up and crawl under the covers, but they were so far away.

The longer he lied there the harder it would be. Fuck.

But he did feel better in the morning. Clearer, sharper, better equipped to puzzle out what the fuck was going on with Evan.

At least he could hazard a guess at what had spooked the guy so bad: he thought Galo was going to punish the others for his actions.

...Now that he thought about it, Evan had lost his shit the first time when Galo said he was gonna have Nyla help him with the flowers instead. How had Galo phrased it exactly? He couldn’t remember, it was such a small detail, a harmless sentence said when he was pissed and frustrated. Except it hadn’t been harmless, clearly. Evan had taken it to mean Galo would hurt Nyla, and, he guessed, the other three, also.

“God,” Galo muttered to himself, pulling his notebook out and writing Don’t insinuate you’ll hurt other people when one person “messes up” on the list of suggestions he had for his own behavior.

Flipping back a page, he wrote, Evan will beg to be beaten if you spook him enough. Not as surly as I thought???

Galo ran his fingers through his hair and started getting ready for the day, his old suit tight around the chest and biceps. As he dressed and groomed himself, he tried to think of a good punishment that wouldn’t actually hurt Evan. He was combing his hair when the lightbulb went off, the idea striking him.

He headed on down to the den, where Evan was already waiting, on his knees with his wrists crossed behind his back.

“Morning Evan,” he greeted, approaching him and extending his palm, which Evan kissed.

“Master Galo,” Evan returned, quiet but thankfully not sounding as panicky as the night before. Galo tilted his head up by the chin so he could see his eyes. The usual fire he sometimes thought he saw was beyond absent; Evan looked like a broken man.

“Repeat after me, Evan,” Galo said, hoping that being punished would serve as some small comfort, that he wasn’t entirely off-base. “I will not misgender Master Galo. I will not provoke him and I will show him respect.”

Evan didn’t hesitate to say it back to him, and Galo removed his hand from under Evan’s chin.

"Good, Evan. Now say that out loud 999 more times. You may leave the den after you do; don't lose count."

And so Galo spun on his heel, and left.

He wouldn’t do anything to confirm that Evan had, in fact, said it 1,000 times. He had shit to do and it didn’t matter to him, personally, if Evan did lose count. But if nothing else, even just kneeling there that long would be a punishment in and of itself. And it addressed the issue.

“Morning Sasha,” Galo greeted, offering his hand again and getting started on his morning shake. “Has Evan eaten yet this morning?”

She shook her head. “Cool. After he’s done with his recitations, he can eat, but don’t interrupt him please.”

Sasha nodded and he smiled at her. “Atta girl. I’m gonna go load up the van and head to the church. This everything?” Galo gestured at the foodstuffs, packaged neatly the night before. When she nodded, he gave her a pat to the shoulder. “Thanks, Sasha. I’ll see you all tonight, probably after dinner so don’t wait up.”

When everything was loaded and Galo behind the wheel, he buckled himself in but then took a moment before he actually turned the van on to sigh and rub his hands down his face.

“Alright, Galo,” he said to himself, staring at the car ceiling. “You can do this. It’s gonna suck, but then it’s gonna be over.”

He breathed in, breathed out, and went to go set up for the funeral.

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joachimnapoleon · 4 years

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@histoireettralala, this one’s for you. ;) Papa!Murat in all his fluff-tastic glory.

***

Murat shifts uncomfortably. The tiny pink plastic chair really wasn’t made to hold a brawny, six-foot-plus adult male. But what choice does he have? His attendance at his daughter Letitia’s tea party is mandatory, and his traditional seat has been usurped by a new arrival, one Mr. Bear, who recently came home with Papa from the amusement park to live with them.

Just don’t break the chair, Murat tells himself. Do not. Break. The chair.

“How is your tea, Papa?” Letitia asks.

He glances down into his empty, plastic toy tea cup. Raising it to his lips, he pretends to take a delicate sip, sighing contentedly for good measure.

“Delightful, my dear.”

The seven-year-old beams. Would Papa like some more? Of course he would! Murat places the tea cup in front of Letitia. She obligingly lifts her toy tea kettle and elegantly simulates pouring him another cup.

“Thank you mademoiselle! You should pour some more for Mr. Bear too, he’s looking rather parched.”

Letitia pours Mr. Bear some more tea, observing that her new friend is always very thirsty because of his great size. She then turns to her younger sister, five-year-old Louise.

“More tea, Louise?”

Louise, busy scribbling in her newest coloring book, shakes her curly-haired head, but informs her sister that Bunbun would like some. The gigantic floppy rabbit has been Louise’s constant companion since arriving at the Murat household alongside Mr. Bear, Baldoin (Lucien’s new stuffed dog), and Ajax, an enormous stuffed crocodile now doubling as a body pillow in Achille’s bedroom.

Bunbun soon has a fresh cup of tea. He expresses his gratitude by drooping over even further in his seat. Louise is oblivious, intensely focused on coloring a picture of an octopus that looks, Murat can’t help but notice, a bit like Davout.

Fearful that Bunbun is about to go toppling out of his chair, Murat reaches over and gently nudges him back upright.

“He’s okay,” Louise says reassuringly. “Just sleepy.”

“Ah,” Murat nods understandably. “Didn’t he sleep well last night?”

“He was scared of the thunder,” Louise says.

“I see,” Murat says, giving Bunbun a severe look. “Well we’ll have to work on that, won’t we.” Cowardice had no place in the Murat household.

The sounds of running footsteps over the downstairs hardwood floor, the laughter and dramatic cries of little boys at play, and the familiar clatter of toy swords bring a smile to Murat’s face. Achille and Lucien must be playing “knights” again. Hopefully they’ll behave themselves and not break anything el—

The sound of something large and ceramic hitting the floor and shattering into pieces reverberates through the house. A frozen silence follows.

Murat sighs. If it was another one of Caroline’s vases, she would have his head. The boys just broke one not even a month ago. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on things while she was away enjoying the spa with Pauline and Elisa. Somehow, he doubted that Caroline would find “I was attending Letitia’s tea party” to be an acceptable excuse for the obliteration of another one of her expensive antiques.

“My apologies, mesdemoiselles,” he addresses his daughters. “I need to go check on your brothers. Be good while I’m gone, okay?” Not that he needs to tell his two little girls that anyway. They are perfect angels, whereas the boys are... well, more like him.

Rising awkwardly from the pink plastic chair, he creeps towards the stairway, not wanting the boys to hear him coming. He peers down the stairs. Eight-year-old Achille and six-year-old Lucien are crouched beside a pile of shards which, moments earlier, had formed their mother's favorite vase. Murat rakes a hand over his face.

"Can we fix it?" little Lucien whispers loudly.

"I don't think so," Achille whispers back. "There's too many pieces."

"What are we going to do?" Lucien asks.

"What, indeed?" Murat interjects, suppressing a smile as his sons jump in startlement.

"Papa!" the boys exclaim in unison.

Murat bites his lip as he regards the remnants of the vase, forcing a grim expression. "Well boys," he begins, doing his best to try to be serious, "which one of you broke Mama's favorite vase?"

Lucien cringes. Achille looks downcast. The boys regard each other in silence for a moment. Finally, Achille confesses; it was his sword that knocked down the vase. But only, he adds with a glare at his younger brother, because Lucien ducked instead of blocking it like a real knight would have.

The mess is soon cleaned up and disposed of, and Achille and Lucien are properly lectured on the importance of absolutely not under any circumstances breaking anymore of their mother's possessions or else. The boys grab their swords and run off to play a new game: pirates! Murat is about to go back upstairs to rejoin the tea party when his cellphone rings.

Lannes greets him enthusiastically. How is the babysitting going? The boys broke another vase? Caroline will be SO MAD. You had ONE JOB, Joachim.

"It's not my fault!" Murat protests. "I can't be everywhere at once. We've had a very peaceful day so far up until this!"

"NO EXCUSES. I have more kids than you and I can manage them well enough!"

"Yeah well your kids aren't little versions of me."

"Thank God for that," Lannes laughs.

Murat rubs his temples while his friend launches into a long explanation of yet another practical joke he recently played on the hapless Bessières. Wandering into the kitchen while Lannes rambles, he puts the phone on speaker and places it down on the counter as he pours himself a glass of juice.

A little girl screams from upstairs.

Murat puts the glass down and dashes out of the kitchen. "IS EVERYTHING OKAY? SHOULD I CALL THE DOCTOR?" Lannes' voice shouts through the abandoned phone.

Springing up the steps three at a time, Murat enters the girls' room to find Louise in tears, being consoled by Letitia.

"What happened, sweetheart?" Murat asks, his heart pounding. "Are you hurt?"

"LUCIEN AND ACHILLE TOOK BUNBUN," Louise sobs.

"Where did they take him?"

"They said he was their prisoner," Letitia says, "and they were taking him back to the pirate ship." She looks at her father, mystified. "Do we really have a pirate ship, Papa?"

"Of course not my dear, where would we keep a pirate ship? I know where they went though." Kneeling, he pulls the sobbing Louise against him. "Shhhhh, it'll be okay my love. I'll bring Bunbun home safe and sound, I promise." He kisses her forehead. "Letitia, keep your sister occupied while I go rescue Bunbun, okay?"

"Yes Papa."

He heads back downstairs. Somehow, Lannes is still yelling through the phone.

"JOACHIM?! WHERE ARE YOU? IS EVERYONE OKAY? I'M CALLING DOCTOR LAR--"

"NO," Murat cries, "DO NOT CALL LARREY, for God's sake Jean. Everything is fine."

"But I heard screaming!"

"It's nothing. The kids are playing a game. I'll call you back later, I have to go." He ends the call, pockets the phone, and leaves the house through the back door.

His eyes go across the vast, vibrant gardens, and out to a distant oak tree, from which protrudes an ornate treehouse. The sounds of boyish laughter carry through the summer air.

Murat had taken great pains--quite literally--to build the treehouse years earlier, when Achille was just a toddler, before Louise had been born. Losing his footing while hammering in some boards one afternoon, he had plummeted out of the tree, dislocating his shoulder in the process.

After recuperating, he had stubbornly completed the treehouse (with help).

Now the structure served alternatively as a fortress, castle, fighter jet, spacecraft, and pirate ship, depending on what mood the children were in. Striding towards the would-be pirate ship, Murat sees Lucien peer out at him with a spyglass, before ducking back behind the window.

Achille appears, bedecked in his pirate hat and eyepatch, a wooden cutlass in his belt. Behind him comes Lucien, dressed similarly, holding the captive Bunbun before him. The droopy stuffed rabbit is led out of the treehouse, towards the makeshift plank Murat had added on some months back to accommodate his sons' piratical fantasies.

"ARRRRR!!!" Achille cries.

"YAAAAAARGH!!!" echoes Lucien.

"What has poor Bunbun done to deserve this?" Murat asks in feigned despair.

"He stole our buried treasure!" Achille says.

"YEAH!" says Lucien. "ARRRRGH."

"Now he must walk the plank!"

"We're gonna feed him to the sharks!!"

Murat has an idea.

"I'll be the shark!"

"Do you know how to be a shark, Papa?" Lucien asks.

"Of course!" He's seen all the Jaws movies, at any rate.

Murat pretends to swim back and forth below the treehouse, baring his teeth ferociously up at Bunbun. Lucien giggles, then, remembering his role after a poke on the back from Achille, resumes his pirate scowl, giving one more loud "ARRRR" for good measure.

"FOR STEALING OUR BURIED TREASURE, WE HEREBY SENTENCE YOU TO DEATH," Achille declares.

Lucien shoves Bunbun off the plank. Murat catches the stuffed rabbit and, gnashing his teeth, simulates rending it to pieces. Laughing, the boys celebrate their triumph with whoops and cheers, waving their wooden cutlasses. Murat, pleased with his performance, tucks the liberated Bunbun under his arm and takes a stage bow.

Soon after, Bunbun is back in the arms of a grateful Louise. Hopefully the boys would neglect to tell their little sister that Papa had temporarily transformed into a shark and devoured her beloved rabbit. Murat cringes. Maybe he can make a deal with them...

The front door opens downstairs. He had completely lost track of the time. Is Caroline home already?

"Joachim?" Caroline calls. "Where are you? ...And what happened to my vase?"

***THE END***

#Trifecta AU #Papa!Murat AU #the fluffiest fluff I've ever written #this is what Murat does to me #@histoireettralala

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anxiousstark · 5 years

Text

Sparks fly up | o n e

MASTERLIST ☾ BUY ME A COFFEE

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader.

Summary: 003. She had always been replaced by the same person, Eleven. First, it was Papa who replaced her, then Jim Hopper. Maybe she was replaced because Eleven was younger and had to learn to manage her powers. Or maybe it was because 003 didn’t remember what she could do. Billy Hargrove seems to be the only person who wouldn’t replace her.

Disclaimer: I do not condone Billy’s actions or behaviour on the show nor do I intend to romanticize abuse.

Warning: Swearing, blood, angst, neglection.

A/N: Please support my work if you can. Also, Billy will have more “protagonist” appearances in the following chapters. This chapter IS NOT really good but I need to introduce everything before the real shit starts.

FLASHBACKS ARE IN ITALIC

A small spark of light caused Three to open her eyes, rubbing them first so she could focus her gaze. She was still on the rocking chair, and that was when she thought of the fight that Hopper and Eleven had had. She also recalled the words that Hopper had addressed to her, causing a feeling of discomfort in her chest.

She realized that there were two blankets around her body, that was the way Chief Jim Hopper showed his love. He would never tell you to your face what he really feels, but he would let you know by small gestures and it seemed that Jim had realized that he had screwed up.

After yawning and stretching the extremities of her body, Three-headed for the door. She never imagined what she would find inside. Everything was messy, boxes and papers that she had never seen before decorated the floor and the couch. "Eleven?" She called the young woman.

She walked to Eleven's room trying not to step on any of the documents that were scattered on the floor. Empty. Her room was empty.

Three felt something was wrong and quickly decided to look at the papers. Hopper collected newspaper cuttings that informed on children who had been stolen from their parents. Children like her. Children with something special. A power.

"No..." She dropped the documents to the floor, running her hands through her hair and closing her eyes tightly. She ran to the radio that both used to communicate with Hopper. Three pressed the button. "Hopper, I'm Three. We have a problem. Over." She waited a few seconds but he didn't answer. "Hopper, we have a problem, please answer. Over."

She looked around the house, waiting for Hopper to answer. She was sure that Eleven was gone, looking for her parents and on the one hand, she understood how the little girl felt. Well, she didn't know anything about her parents either. But she never thought that Eleven would leave without saying anything and she knew that Hopper would scold her for not realizing sooner.

"Hopper, I think she’s gone, I think she's trying to find her parents. Please answer. Over." But it seemed that the Chief wasn’t in his car at the time because he didn’t answer.

Frustrated, Three stopped trying to contact Hopper. Looking around she felt so stupid for not being able to do anything. Although, she could do something that Hopper wasn't going to like at all. She quickly changed her clothes and left what she called ‘home’. If she couldn't find Eleven, she would find Hopper.

Three didn't usually go out much, just under Hopper's watch. But she learned about the maps of Hawkins. And even though she had never met Eleven's friends, she knew where each of them lived. Hopper used to sit beside her while looking at that map over and over again, pointing to where each house and building was.

The first person that came to her mind was Mike Wheeler. The boy who helped Eleven.

That’s how she ended up in front of his house.

It was at that moment that she saw a boy with a bouquet of flowers and another boy with curly hair. There was clearly a big age difference between them. She analysed them with her gaze and she concluded that the curly-haired boy was Dustin Henderson. One of Eleven's friends.

The only thing she knew about them was the stories Eleven had told her.

She watched as they began to get in the car and she ran towards them. "Hey. Sorry to bother you, but-" She looked at the curly-haired boy." Are you Dustin Henderson?"

Dustin was shocked that a stranger knew his name and surname, but at the same time, Hawkins was a small town. He looked at Steve for a moment and the older boy simply shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, it's me. And you are?"

"It is a long story." She swallowed. "But I need your help."

"I'm sorry, but right now I'm really busy, it's also a long story but we may be in danger. I know, I know. It’s hard to believe, but I have to go." When he gestured to Steve and got into the car, Dustin smiled for the last time, about to get in the car too.

"My name is Three." She lifted the sleeve of her jacket, showing the number that marked her, shouting loudly that she wasn’t like the others. As those in the laboratory thought, she couldn’t be considered human. “I need to find Jim Hopper, my guardian.” She didn’t like that term.

The curly-haired boy quickly understood that this girl was another "experiment" that Jim had saved, although there were many unanswered questions. Dustin noted the urgency in her voice. "Get in."

She nodded, gratefully and got into the back seat of the car. The other boy looked at her and offered a little smile. Both of them were confused about Dustin’s actions. “I’m Steve Harrington. Nice to meet you.”

She smiled. “I’m...” Three. Her name is Three. She didn’t even have a real name. She remembered that Hopper had told Eleven what her real name was and El decided to keep the number as a name because ‘Jane’ didn’t feel like her. But she didn’t have that option because she was Three, just Three. “I’m Three.”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows, but he didn’t ask and she was grateful.

“Wait. So how big?” Steve asked. It was difficult to believe what Dustin had said. But it wasn't as difficult for Three because she had heard about those things before. She had heard the people in the lab talk about some type of creature that was dangerous for the outside world, but that it could benefit them in some way.

“First it was like that.” He made a gesture with his hands, not too big. “Now he is like this.” He widened the space between his hands and she noticed Steve’s eyes getting wider.

Steve told Dustin that he was sure that was some kind of lizard, which caused Dustin to feel offended and start telling him that he had a lot of knowledge about reptiles. Still, Steve kept saying it could be some new type of lizard.

"It's not a lizard." Three decided to speak. Both boys looked at her. Steve for a shorter time since he had to pay attention to the road. "Surely that thing comes from the lab. Nothing is just something if it left the laboratory."

Dustin smiled. "Thank you, I'm glad to know that I'm not the only one with brains and beauty in this car." He winked, which caused Three to laugh. She liked Dustin.

But things didn’t go as they wanted. Upon arriving at Dustin's house and explaining where that Demogorgon creature was, Dustin told Steve to go down alone and that he would stay to watch and protect Three, which she thought was really sweet. But everyone got more nervous when Steve told them to come down and they found that the creature had changed its skin and had made a hole in the wall. Therefore, they decided to rest in Steve's car and keep looking for it the next day.

Now, the three of them were walking on the rails with buckets full of meat, hoping that the creature would appear and Steve would end it with his bat.

Three wasn't paying much attention to the conversation both boys were having but couldn't help laughing a little when Steve let the younger child know his biggest secret. The secret of how his hair looked so good. And the truth is that Steve had beautiful hair.

They finally arrived.

“This will do just fine. Good call, dude.” He praised Dustin and the boy couldn’t help but smile. Three smiled back, ruffling his curls.

“Good job, Dustin.” She also praised, following Steve.

“I said medium-well!” A scream was heard and the three musketeers turned their heads. Seeing a black guy with a red-haired girl waving at them. Dustin ran to the boy, grabbing his wrist and putting him behind a car and saying that they had to have a meeting.

While the younger boys had their meeting, Steve, Max and Three worked, preparing for the appearance of the Demogorgon.

“Hey!” Both boys got scared. “Dickheads. How come the only one helping me out are these two random girls? Let’s go!” Steve started walking to the girls. “I said let’s go!”

After all the hard work and preparing everything, they wanted until night. Until the Demogorgon would appear. Lucas stayed on the roof of the old bus, making sure no creature was near. Max, Dustin and Steve waited inside the bus and Three kept playing with her hands, hoping to find Hopper.

"Are you like Eleven?" Dustin asked. He had been wanting to ask since last night. Lucas, who was keeping guard, asked them to speak a little louder since he wanted to find out what was happening.

No, she wasn’t like Eleven. Eleven was Eleven and she was Three. Two completely different people who only shared having been taken from their families and powers. However, powers no longer characterized her.

"You mean the lab and all that?" She laughed a little, trying not to show her discomfort at how the question had been suggested. "Yes, you can say that."

The curly-haired boy smiled, completely interested in knowing more about Three. "And what are your powers?"

Before Three could think or say anything, the creature appeared. And she never thought she would be so happy to see something so horrible that it had been the creation of the same bastards who stole her identity and her childhood.

She also didn’t expect to have not only one creature but several. Nor did she expect to yell at Steve to get back on the bus to ensure his safety. Nor did she expect the creatures to leave.

“They are going somewhere.”

“And we are going too.” Three said. “I think Hopper might be there.”

After having gone to the laboratory and being confused by the situation, they took refuge in the Byers house.

The children were sitting around the table while Jonathan and Nancy were next to Will. Steve and Three were leaning on one of the kitchen furniture while Jim Hopper yelled at a yellowish telephone.

Hopper hadn’t had the opportunity to speak with Three, and it was to be understood that his face had transformed when he saw how she had climbed into his car. And Three knew it would be a matter of time until Hopper scolded her.

"Ok, let me see if I understand." Mike decided to speak, his hands banging on the wooden table without strength. "You have been living with Hopper for a couple of years and you are like Eleven?" Dustin kicked him under the table. "I mean you were both in the lab and all that." Three nodded. "Does that mean you knew Eleven? Do you have any idea what happened to her?"

She felt bad for not being able to tell Mike that Eleven was fine, that she was alive and that she missed him just as he missed her. But she knew that Hopper would have another reason to kill her if she gave that information.

A great bang sounded causing everyone to be startled, Hopper had hung up the phone abruptly, baffled at the indifference of his co-workers. His gaze fell on her. “Three, come. Now.”

The Chief went to one of the Byers' rooms, it seemed to be Will's room. His back was facing Three all the time until she closed the door of the bedroom. "What are you doing here?" His hand rubbed his forehead fiercely.

"I tried to contact you through the radio." Sigh. "When I woke up this morning Eleven wasn’t at home." The volume of her voice was decreasing little by little but that didn't stop Hopper from hearing what she had said. "I tried to contact you several times but you didn't answer me. I guess she is trying to search for her parents."

"I was too busy trying not to die." Those words caused confusion in her, who didn't know what Hopper had to go through. "How did you not realize?"

"I woke up in the same place where I fell asleep and upon entering there were boxes and millions of documents scattered on the floor." She observed his reaction. The Chief had sat on Will's bed, trying to calm himself down.

"I didn't know how to find her so I thought it would be a good idea to look for you." Her eyes stopped looking at him.

"So you thought it was a good idea to go outside, you decided to look for Eleven's friends. How were you going to introduce yourself? Were you going to make up a name or just present yourself as 'Three', another experiment."

She bit her lower lip. No, fuck. She felt like the tears were going to come out, that they were going to run down her cheeks. "What did I have to do then?" Her voice was more strident this time. "Did I have to stay at home and wait for you to arrive with the possibility that El wasn't going to be there? You would have been angry at me anyway."

Hopper didn't like the tone of voice that Three had used against him. He got up from the bed approaching her. "I wouldn’t have been angry if-"

"If what?" It was the first time she had interrupted him, putting a hand on her chest when she noticed an unfamiliar ache. "I'm not the one who has left home without permission in search of her parents. Also because I don't know who my parents are but she does. That's another topic to talk about. Why are you trying to hide it from me but not from her? After all this, don’t you think I should know."

“What you don’t know won’t hurt you.” He replied with a softer voice. He explained that they would talk more about what had happened to Eleven at home. For Hopper, it was more important to follow the plan related to Will being a spy. It was also more important when the phone sounded, alarming everyone and making Will notice where he was. It was also more important when they were attacked by a demo-dog -as Dustin has named them- and El coming to the rescue.

She noticed how everyone in that room adored her, except Steve and Max because they didn’t know the young girl. But she couldn’t help being jealous, again. She couldn’t help wishing to be hugged the same way Hopper had hugged Eleven.

"Sweetie." She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned her head to see Joyce. Three had met the woman as she was the only one who knew that Hopper had welcomed her a few years ago. And it seemed that she was the only one who realized how she felt.

She smiled back, trying to make her think that she was okay. However, she wasn’t. "It's late." She stated something obvious. "I assume Max's parents must be worried." The redhead upon hearing her name smiled. Three seemed sweet, and when they were on the bus a couple of hours ago, she gave her company and told incredible stories. "I will take her home. Can someone lend me their car?”

"Do you have a driving license?" Steve asked, surprised since it didn't seem like Three lived her life like a normal teenager. I guess she just didn't live.

"No, but I know how to drive." She let them know while looking at Hopper. "He taught me."

"Oh my god, oh my god." Hopper was clinging to the door of the car. "You don't have to go so fast." He felt nauseous but tried to forget about it because the girl behind the wheel, Three, was smiling.

Hopper had ‘adopted’ the 16-year-old teenager after researching the laboratory and learning that she was an important and dangerous experiment. He had talked to ‘Papa’ as she used to call him and he had explained everything related to the loss of her powers, which was why she was with host families who threw her out. She didn’t last two days with a host family when she was taken to another. It was then that Hopper decided to take care of her by doing a favour to Papa who didn’t have to worry about her trying to escape. In return, he would stop looking for her.

Hopper knew what Three's powers were but that was something he would take to the grave and never tell her. Telling her what her powers were would cause the young woman to discover her true past, affecting her even more.

"Okay, do you see that space? Park there. As I have taught you." He pointed to a white rectangle that he had painted with spray in front of the house where Three lived and that belonged to him. The chief couldn't help smiling when he saw how she parked perfectly. "Amazing, little one." He stroked her hair playfully, dishevelling it. But Three didn't care, she was happy.

“Three?” She snapped back to reality after hearing her name. Max was looking at her dumbfounded and that is when she noticed that they had arrived at Max’s house. “Thank you for driving me.”

She smiled telling her that she didn't have to thank her. When Max was about to get out of the car she realized that Billy was walking quickly towards her. "Oh shit." She didn't mind saying a bad word in front of Three.

"Who is that?" She asked, closing her eyes a little since she couldn't see well from afar.

"My stepbrother. He is a jerk and he is going to yell at me for leaving home without his permission. He doesn't like Lucas." Getting out of the car, closing the door behind her. Three decided to get out of the car as well and realized that Max’s step-brother said nothing to the little one when he saw her.

"Uhm, I'm sorry. I was in charge of bringing Max back home but my car broke down and I had to borrow my friend's." Quickly, she lied.

The boy's gaze swept across her body but she couldn’t tell because she was paying attention to the beautiful colour his eyes had.

For the first time in his life, Billy Hargrove didn't know what to say. Three smiled, about to get in the car. She ran her tongue over her lower lip. "By the way, you should put ice as soon as possible, or tomorrow you will have a swollen lip." She turned to Billy and he was confused. Three pointed to her own lip. "Your lower lip is bleeding, whoever hit you knew where to. Add ice and some ointment." She smiled for the last time. "Hope to see you soon, Max!"

"I hope so too!" The redhead answered back, grinning and waving her hand while watching how the car Jonathan had lent them disappeared. Although, she quickly felt afraid thinking about Billy screaming at her.

"Who is she?"

Max was surprised at Billy's expression. "They call her Three." She said as if a nickname was, going back inside her house while Billy just stayed there.

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