Chapter Text
A demon. Every day Susie looked into the mirror hanging on her door, that’s what she saw; a monster. A brute. A villain. Those eyes weren’t hers. At least, not what they used to be. She remembered, but didn’t, a time when she was happy and cheerful. Those memories had faded from god knows how long in this god-forsaken place.
She looked the same. Time didn’t exist here. But that was even worse, reminding her that she changed. She wasn’t herself anymore, and that mirror whispered it to her every day she woke up.
Evil.
Hideous.
Murderer.
She still hadn’t learned to turn off the voice in her head. That’s what the rest of her friends told her.
‘Just turn the voice off,’ Joey said, patting her on the shoulder. ‘You know, turn your brain off, the whole thing. It’s super easy!’
‘Yeah, easy to turn off something that was never on to begin with,’ Julie remarked from the couch, lifting her gaze from the fire roaring in the hearth.
‘Oh, shut it! You know what I mean.’
Maybe they didn’t have a conscience. Or were desensitized to it, or something? It couldn’t be something wrong with her, could it? Of course, almost every person on this side of the Fog was just what they were titled; Killer. And played it well. Most of them liked killing or were too animalistic to notice or care. Except Legion, except her. She wasn’t a murderer. They were just stupid teens, trying to save their asses.
But it didn’t matter. They were stuck here. And why blame her friends, if they were stuck there together? Holding grudges wasn’t going to help.
She turned away from the mirror, rousing her hair and grabbing a sweatshirt from a pile that sat next to the mirror. Old reliable, her teal one. She tugged it on over her head, adjusting the hemline. Raising her hood, she debated on bringing her mask. The Entity would give it to her anyway if she was brought to a trial, so it wasn’t needed. But it brought her some comfort…
She picked it up and shoved it in the pocket on the front of her hoodie. She could feel the edge poking into her stomach. One of the stitches must’ve popped. Oh well , she thought, and opened the door to head downstairs.
It was quiet, nobody else seemed to be home. She sighed and headed for the fridge, swinging it open and grabbing a bottle of liquor. Unbranded, no unique taste, but got the job done. She was surprised that the Entity let them have stuff like this, but if that damn old man could have cigarettes, then she could have her alcohol. Well, originally it was Frank’s, but he got her onto it, and damn did it help her forget about the shithole she was in.
She popped the cap and tilted her head back, letting the bitter liquid hit the back of her throat. She took a swig and sighed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Another sip and she felt the skin on her face get flush. Another sip, and another. It was a small euphoria, but not happy. Definitely not happy.
Once she was nicely buzzed, she looked down at the bottle, and holy shit she drank almost a fourth. She scowled. And not even noon yet. They only got these when they did well at killing in the trials. Three or four minimum. And they hadn’t had a trial in god knows how long. Maybe it’s because they didn’t instill as much fear as other killers, so it wasn’t as much of an emotion-fest to feed on. But if they didn’t have a trial, where were the others? She could usually tell when someone was being taken, whether by a small pull or something. Not as strong as when it was her turn, but still there. They were a Legion, after all. They were one.
That’s what Frank always used to say. They were one. But it didn’t feel like that now. For Susie, at least. Maybe she was distancing herself, or maybe they were avoiding her, but something was off. If she recalled, she hadn’t seen any of them in a few days. Then again, she only left her room to grab a drink and to piss. Weird that they still had to do that, but maybe that was proof she was alive and not in some fever dream.
It’s what she was hoping when this all started. But once she saw the first survivor’s blood leaking from their shoulder as the hook gouged them, she knew.
This was real.
Another chug. Fuck it, she needed to forget. About this, about everything. Failing to put the cap back on the bottle, she put it back in the fridge topless and went back upstairs. A door downstairs creaked. Maybe they are avoiding me.
And could she blame them? No, not really.
Tomorrow , she thought. I’ll do better tomorrow.
She wasn’t better. She woke up with a pounding head and enough vomit spewing out to leave her incapacitated on the toilet. More puke than Adiris , she bitterly thought.
When she felt a tug on the back of her head, she thought it was just another sign to lean back over the bowl, but when a black fog slowly materialized underneath her, she knew it was time for a trial.
She was still in Ormond. Ah, this was their map. What a coincidence. Every time she walked past the different areas, ones she knew so well, she wished she could leave. Walk out the exit gates with the survivors and be back home.
Home.
What was that? Not with her parents, definitely. They were always so dismissive, never talking with her or doing things together. She spent so much of her childhood alone, with nothing but her dolls to keep her company. They stopped caring when she found her friends. Didn’t care when she showed up home with bruises and cuts from fights. ‘It’s your own fault and doing,’ they’d say. And it was true, but the lack of empathy surprised her. It was what made her so loyal in the first place. What made her stick with Julie, even when Frank was having them do worse and worse things. What made her rob stores, and flee from the cops. Kill a man. Because they were all she had. And now, they were her everything. But they seemed to want nothing to do with her anymore.
It’s what made her so merciless, perhaps. The need to please the only people she cared about. It’s what made her do all those things, the things in her past she regretted, she hated, the things that brought her here. Because she was too clingy, too needy, needing attention from someone, anyone who would give it.
She activated her power and ran. She neared one survivor, not noticing who they were, and slashed them against the leg, spewing blood. Two ahead, on further and to the right. She hit the second, and third. The last one was near the gates. She hit them, and they fled, backing themselves into a corner. It was Dwight, a man who had been here longer than almost everyone.
She hit him again, stabbing him in the stomach. He fell, grabbing his chest as tears streamed down his face, the cold biting air fogging up his glasses.
She was heartless. This is what the Entity had made her into. Someone who was forced to wield an iron fist or be punished herself. So many times, at the beginning, she had wanted to show mercy, but then there was no mercy for her. The amount of times the Entity had tortured her for letting survivors go purposefully was innumerable. The pain they experienced, she would. But the Entity didn’t only torture physically. It was something that fed on emotions, after all.
As the others had told her, grace was a weakness here. Pity a crime.
She looked down at Dwight, who looked up at her, pleading. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t deal with any more pain.
No one survived that trial.
A monster. That’s why she saw it in the mirror. It’s what she had become. She sat on her bedroom floor, staring at it. It stared back. No, she stared back. That demon was her.
Go on, smash the mirror , it said. You know you want to. Don’t want to see your true self anymore.
“Shut up!’ Susie grunted.
The thing in the mirror smiled. Why? Because you’re too much of a weakling to deal with your emotions? Why don’t you just turn your brain off? It mocked.
“I need to get out of here,” she mumbled, tugging her hair. Pink used to be her favorite color. Now it reminded her too much of blood.
Then you know what you need to do! It drew a finger across its neck.
Susie grabbed the mask that was in her hoodie pocket and chucked it at the mirror, cracking it.
A thousand smiles gleamed at her from each crack. You’ll never escape . Each one said. She punched the glass, sending shards flying. She didn’t notice the blood on her face or the cuts that sliced her hands open. But even if she did, she wouldn’t have cared. She deserved it anyhow.
A walk was what she needed. Bracing herself against the cool wind, she headed down the twisting path that led to the other areas in the fog. There was a very nice mountain she could visit near the Estate. She couldn’t bring herself to do it from Ormond. Not near her friends.
She felt whispers and tugging as she neared the edge of Ormond. As she walked, the scenery changed and a dense forest took the place of the snow and ice. She continued, the trail disappearing behind her. She was near the storehouse, which was good. She was already close.
She walked until finally, she found a small trail that led to the top of a mountain. It overlooked all of the estate, which must’ve been useful for overseeing workers and productivity. She walked to the edge, breathing in the air. Heavy and full of smog, even though operations no longer took place there. Maybe the Entity kept it as a reminder of home to the person who lived in this realm.
Looking over the edge, she sighed. She wished she had said goodbye, now that she thought.
Apologized.
To the people whom she had ignored when she was back home, always too shy even though she knew they were just trying to be friendly. To help.
To the survivors. They were so innocent. They didn’t deserve what the Entity sentenced them to and would have to live forever.
For the sparks she stomped out, the hope that she crushed as she killed them, day in and day out.
For the perfect things in her life. For her friends. For the laughter they had that she didn’t appreciate. That she wouldn’t hear again.
Tears streamed down her face as she took a step forward. This was it.
“Hey!” A voice called out. She whipped around to find the Trapper, unmasked. Of course, this was his realm. She should’ve guessed. “What are you doing?!” He stepped forward reaching out his arm.
She stepped back, holding up her hands. “P-please go away.” Another step.
Concern creased his normally stoic face. “What are you…?”
Then, the rocks beneath her feet gave way under her weight, giving out. As she fell, she felt fingers brush her hand. She watched as Trapper stared over the edge, hand outstretched in a failed attempt to grab her, shock lining his face, as she fell.
She didn’t remember hitting the ground.