Chapter Text
It had been two years since Abram had entered foster care. The time leading up to this event was burned into his brain. Etched into the very marrow of his bones.
Mary and Chris, Alex then, had been jumping from city to city in Austria, Switzerland, and then Germany. Chris thought it was weird that they were lingering in Germany, but he trusted his mother then.
They had only taken on two aliases in their year and a half in Germany. Occasionally Mary would mention moving to France next, but soon all mentions of that stopped. Chris still decided to pick up learning French in his spare time. He thought it was expected since they would be running soon, but Mary never explicitly told him to learn it. Not like when they practiced German for a few months in the states in preparation for their next location. Chris thought that his mother would appreciate his initiative for once, and he had hoped that she might give him one of her rare smiles or at least avoid her harsh scolding.
Mary had been acting.. Strange for a week or so. More paranoid than usual. She would avoid Chris. Avoid talking to him. Avoid looking him in the eyes. Yet stare with this lost expression on her face when she thought Chris wasn’t looking. Mary was a proud woman. She was stern, and paranoid to a degree. But she always had a plan. Always so sure of what her next step would be. Her lost expression with those hollow eyes that Chris got glimpses of made his stomach churn, like everything he knew about his mother was slowly collapsing. But Mary had always lectured him on being “strong”, so Chris didn’t show how shaken he was with this change.
Another month had passed. Same town. Same names.
But today was different. He was going to the library after school; typically he would have asked his mother for permission to do the littlest thing, but Chris was determined. He had to learn French. He had to get Mary “normal” again. He needed her to go back to be the mother who controlled every part of himself. He craved the security of it all, like a starving spider ready to eat its own leg to survive an inkling longer. He’d welcome her strictness if it meant she would talk to him again.
He sat in class waiting for his teacher to finish blabbering about homework and upcoming assignments, his pencil eraser wedged between his teeth and his leg bouncing up and down. Up, down, up, down. A chiming shrill broke him out of his monotonous rhythm, and with that he left his class room. He had to hold himself back, making sure not to leave too suddenly. Behavior like that might cause his classmates to notice him again. They had given up trying to communicate with Chris after his first week of classes. Don’t speak unless spoken to. Don’t say more than you have to. Those were rules that Mary had made and he was smart enough to not disobey, or maybe less smart and more fearful. Sure, part of him longed to have typical relationships like the average schoolkid, but he had other priorities. Like not dying at the hands of his bastard father.
He pulled up his hood as he walked off his school’s campus, thankful that the school day had ended. No more chittering classmates and boorish teachers. Even his math class today couldn’t hold his attention. Only the prospect of the library could capture that today. He eyed the sky as he walked. It was dark and gloomy. He exhaled, cursing. He’ll be soaked on the way back. Thankfully his cd player was safely tucked away in his bag. He had bought the beat up piece of tech at a thrift store a month back. One missed lunch versus a device to learn languages easier seemed worth it.
He reached the library slightly damp due to a light drizzle. He came to this specific library because he heard they take his school’s ID to borrow media. A pair of well-known studious girls were chatting about this fact a few days ago. Chris thought it was worth testing out. He wandered around the library searching for the CD section. He saw a few familiar uniforms in his search. He didn't let his eyes linger long on the girls, briskly walking past. A few minutes after this encounter, he stumbled upon the CD shelves. There was a decent selection. Mostly German based curriculums. Polish, Japanese, Mandarin, Russian, Spanish. He let his fingers slide from CD to CD, in a slightly crouched position due the the height of the small shelves. He let out a happy, but quiet exclamation when he found what he was looking for. English to French and German to French learning programs. There were two German based CDs and one English one; he took all three from the shelf. As he made his way back to the entrance, he made a detour to pick up a German to French learning book.
He walked through the library already thinking about his lunch plans for the next few weeks, before they moved at least. He would immerse himself in the study material and become proficient quickly if everything went according to his plans. Then his mother would offer him a smile and a pat on the head. He knew he was dreaming, but he craved a warm mother, for connection, like all the other classmates had. Chris’s dreams and lunchtime plans would never truly come into fruition. A great calamity was incoming and he was none the wiser.
Mary looked at her burner phone. Her hands were shaking. She had finally got the resolve to reply to the cryptic messages sent to her months back. She knew who they were from. How couldn't she know? She had been married to that sick fuck, and made a child with him. She knew his games, yet she hoped that this would be the last time Abram would ever have to run. She was right, but not in the way that she hoped for. Soon Abram, her beloved son, would never run again. “I accept.” was all she replied. And with that she sealed Abram’s and her fate forever.
Chris made his way over to the main desk. He wished he could just shove the borrowed media in his bag and make a run for it but that would probably draw too much unwanted attention. Instead he forced himself to put his findings on the counter.
“Oh! A Blütenblatter girl! I love seeing your schoolmates here. It reminds me of my school years”, She gave out a soft chuckle.
Chris finched his eyes snapping up to the library attendant. She was round-faced and plain looking. Chris stared at her for a quick moment, and then he procured his ID. He knew going to an all girls school and his long hair weren’t good indicators of the gender he wished he was, but he had learned to tune it out. At least when he was with his mother he was Abram. Her only son. He placed the ID on the counter, avoiding the attendant’s eyes.
“You’re a shy one..” She paused to look at the ID, “Chistine. What a lovely name.” She gushed as she scanned the ID. “Well..” She paused waiting for Chris to say something. He muttered a thanks just to get the conversation over with. He hated people like this. Always too warm and bright. Maybe he wanted to just finish something quickly and not deal with a million platitudes. “You’re all checked out! Good luck with your studies, and have a good one, sweetie!” Chirs nodded in response. Shoving the items in his backpack, he made for the exit.
The rain had escalated from the light drizzle to a full blown storm. Chris let out a huff of air. It was going to be a long walk back. He pulled up the hood on his hoodie and set off. The rain pattered hard. Cars drove fast, yet the sidewalks were almost desolate save a few passerbyers with their umbrellas. Occasionally they would give Chris sad looks as they passed him. He didn’t need or want their pity. Sure, he probably looked pretty pitiful right now. Soaking wet with his long hair plastered to his face, dripping rainwater. But it was the point of the matter; pity was useless and better used for some street cat, not the butcher’s son. He could feel the water sponge out of his shoes as he stepped onward. The walk to the small apartment that Mary and Chris shared wasn’t far from his school. The library was in the opposite direction, and added quite a bit of distance to his walk home. Chris thought that he probably should have looked at the weather forecast for today… but it was too late now. He was almost to his temporary home.
The apartment complex was in sight. It was a shabby, compact brick building. Something felt off. Chris couldn’t place it, yet, from this distance and with the rainwater obscuring his vision. Despite the chills running down his spine he ventured closer to the complex. The first thing he noticed was a sleek, black car. It was a luxury car too fancy to be seen anywhere near their cheap and rundown building. Shit. Alarm bells were going off in Chris’s head. None of their neighbors would be able to afford this.. His uncle was close to no contact with his mother after they ran, so he wouldn’t be here.. That only left one possibility.
His stomach dropped. His hands started shaking and becoming clammy. Fuck. Holy fuck. He knew he should run. He shouldn’t even be debating going up to the apartment. His mother always told him to just keep running, and that she would find him. But he was stupid and emotional unlike her. He couldn’t just leave her… he couldn’t leave his mom. Not when they were supposed to run to France together. She was supposed to be proud of him that he learned French on his own. She was supposed to smile at him again. He couldn’t leave her. Against everything he had learned from her. Against his better judgment. He ran to her.
He ran towards the complex. He ripped open the lobby door, and raced up the stairs. He tripped forwards, scrambling. The carpet rubbed against his hands when he fell, grasping for footing. It burned, yet he carried on. 310.. Just get to 310.. Save his mother. Maybe it wasn’t his father.. Maybe he was wrong…
He reached the apartment’s door, the crooked “310” metal numbers staring at him as he huffed out puffs of hot breaths. This was the point of no return. He opened the door, his hand slimy against the metal of the knob.
He threw the door open. It hit the wall with a deafening thud.
The world stopped as Abram took in the scene. His blood pulsed in his temples. Their shabby apartment had been tainted with disgusting people who bared knives instead of teeth. Abram felt sick. He could feel the bile coming up his throat. His Father… his men… everything was over.
But then it hit him that his mother was alive… unharmed… which was… unexpected… The last run in both Mary and Abram were shot at… He wanted them dead… right? So why?
His father and mother were sitting across from each other at the dining table. Lola and Romero were behind his mother, each at her sides. Mary’s hands were clenched together resting on the table. And his bastard of a father was twirling a knife in his hand.
“Oh Natalie… You’ve come to join us, how lovely.” And there it was that disgusting name spewed from his father’s smirked mouth.
“Little Nat! How is our precious little girl today?” Lola spoke with a sing-song voice. Abram's full body flinched. Girl. Daughter. Natalie. God he fucking hated it. Everything was just another reminder about being stuck in this damned body, but he couldn’t even care. His father was probably going to kill him here, and he’ll just die as Christine, a private school girl, or maybe he’ll die as Natalie, the pitiful daughter of Balatmore’s Butcher. Mary’s face winced, like she was listening to Abram’s thoughts about his demise.
“Hush, Lola. We need to talk business. Don't we, Mary?” He turned back to his mother. “You see, Natalie, your mother dearest made a deal… with me”
“Nathan Don’t,” Mary’s voice shook but was still poisonous.
“Woah Woah, My dear wife, I’m just trying to have a little familial meeting. Shouldn’t Our daughter know? Hmmm?”
“No! You said you would just take me and leave… Nothing more!”
“Mary, Mary, Mary… Fine. Since you're returning the money and yourself.. I’ll let the brat go… The Moriyama’s are not pleased with you, as you know.”
“Mom… What… What!!!” Abram could feel hot tears down his face. What was happening.. What… She.. gave up..? Was every one of her rules just a big waste? What was it all for? If they were just going to go into his father’s clutches willingly, what was all it fucking for. Before he could go further, Mary’s voice cut through his spiral.
“Natalie, it’ll be okay. I promise.. You’ll be okay, just listen to me" Mary had tears welling in her eyes.. She gave Abram a stern look, but her voice was gentle but firm. It stirred something inside of him that he couldn’t place. But Abram didn't have enough time to respond or react at all.
Nathan Clapped, “Awwww, How heartfelt… That’s Enough. Lola hold Natalie. Romero take Mary,” He barked, “I need to have a little chat with my dearest daughter…” He stood up gripping his knife. A sickening crazed smile on his face showing the whites of his teeth. His lackeys grabbed their separate targets, both of them thrashing.
“NATHAN! YOU BLOODLY BASTARD! You fucking bastard… You said you wouldn’t touch my child.. THAT WAS OUR DEAL!” Mary thrashed violently screaming and crying hysterics.
“Well. Plans change,” Nathan shrugged with a smile,” Little Natalie needs a little gift.. For going along with your little runway stunt.” Mary was howling at Nathan, still thrashing with everything she could. She had to protect her baby… God she was so stupid why did she… She broke her own damn rules for nothing.. Nothing. She was just so tired and.. He claimed to leave Abram alone.. And she just believed…
Nathan moved in a flash. He pinched Abram’s face, “You're going to regret running… That is if you even will be able to run again after I'm through with you,” He laughed so hard that spit flew at Abram’s face.
“You won’t break me, bastard”, Abram then spat at his father’s face.
“Goddanmmit bitch! You’ll regret that.” He wiped his face, “Romero get that squealing
bitch in the car already!” Abram knew that would be the last time he ever saw his mother again. Romero hauled her out of the apartment. There was so much he wanted to say.. Hateful things. Loving things. A goodbye. But he just couldn't bring himself to say anything. Why did she give up.. Why couldn’t they have just gone to France.. The door thudded, and with that Nathan grabbed Abram’s leg pulling him out of his thoughts. Nathan’s hand started to go behind his leg. Abram was trembling. “Ah.. where’d all your fight go, little girl!”
“Don’t!” Abram started thrashing and his face was pale. Not his fucking legs anything but his fucking legs. He couldn’t be useless.. He.. Exy.. No! He couldn't have his pipedream completely shattered. He wouldn’t survive… He wouldn’t survive. He kept thrashing in Lola’s arms but it was no use.
His father’s hand was quick, skilled. He knew torture. He knew the perfect ways to cut a person like a piece of meat. And here Abram was facing that again. The cut was deep, Abram screamed. His vision went white and his leg went limp. It was more of a gapping slice.. To the bone. Blood was pooling down his leg the same time as his father’s laughter echoed. Abram’s screams had turned into a mixture of heavy breaths and whimpers. Nathan gave Abram a smile and looked at his work, ”Natalie, that was just a taste… I’ll be back someday to collect, but take this as a parting gift, so that you’ll always remember your father dearest.” With that Lola Dropped Abram, and followed Nathan out of the apartment.
The fall hurt Abram couldn’t really catch himself, too focused on the pain in his leg. He laid there feeling the blood from his cut pooling underneath him. God… He should just die here.. There was no point… His mom was going to die… He should too.. His leg was throughly fucked.. And so he continued to lay there. He made no effort to move. No effort to reach the burner phone in his pocket. He wanted to die. He wanted everything to just end. The pain. The running. Just everything. And so he waited. Waited until his body felt lighter. Waited until his vision went black. And hoped maybe if there was an afterlife that he would get to see his mom’s smile one more time. Everything went black.