Bad Daughter

[accuscripter]

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[accuscripter]

Vivian clutched her mother's cold, lifeless body, her trembling hands desperately feeling for a pulse. Deep down, she knew there was nothing

Vivian clutched her mother's cold, lifeless body, her trembling hands desperately feeling for a pulse. Deep down, she knew there was nothing. No warmth, no breath, no heartbeat—but still, she checked. Over and over again, her fingers pressing against her mother's neck, trying to prove herself wrong, trying to deny the grim reality that stared back at her.

"Ma… aren't you cold?" Her voice cracked, trembling with disbelief. "Your hands are so cold…" she whispered, forcing a smile onto her tear-streaked face, as if that fragile smile could somehow undo what had already been done.

Her eyes darted around, frantically searching for the source of all the blood. The room blurred around her, but then she saw it, the knife. It was embedded deep in her mother's chest, the handle sticking out grotesquely like a marker of death, a kitchen knife. The blade was buried deep, the wound already beginning to clot, a dark stain spreading across her mother's clothing.

Vivian's breath hitched. She reached for the knife, hesitating as her shaking fingers hovered just above the murder weapon. She couldn't bring herself to touch it. Her hand trembled violently, and she pulled it back, recoiling as though the knife itself was a living thing, dripping with malice. But then, forcing herself, she reached out again, her mind screaming in protest. Her fingers barely grazed the handle before she broke down completely, collapsing into the pool of her mother's blood.

The cold, sticky sensation of the blood seeping into her clothes made her shudder, her sobs uncontrollable now. She was sobbing with bouts of breathlessness.

She bowed in prostration over her mother's blood… "Can you hear me?" she wailed, her voice breaking as she cried out into the deafening silence. "I don't know… I don't know what to do, God! … Help me!!!"

Her cries echoed through the house, loud and pained. These screams did not go unnoticed. Heavy footsteps echoed from the stairs, each step reverberating through the house like the drumbeats of doom. Vivian's heart raced as her father's presence loomed closer, his voice following; filled with venom and rage.

He stormed into the room, and his eyes; bloodshot and wild landed on her crumpled figure, drenched in blood, clutching her mother's body. Without hesitation, he spat curses at her, his voice slashing through the air like a whip.

"What the hell are you doing, you filthy little wretch?!"

Vivian didn't flinch. Her body tensed as he moved closer, but she held her mother tightly, shielding her as though she could somehow still protect her from the monster in front of her.

"Don't you dare come near me," Vivian hissed, her voice low but shaking with barely-contained fury. "You dirty, rotten animal!"

Her father's face twisted into something grotesque, his rage bubbling over. In one swift motion, he lunged at her, his hands grabbing a fistful of her hair. Vivian screamed as he yanked her backwards, dragging her away from her mother's body with brutal force. Her scalp burned as he pulled, her screams blending with the sound of her body scraping against the blood-stained floor.

"No! No! Let me go!" she cried, but he was deaf to her pleas.

He dragged her out of the room, down the stairs, her body bouncing against each step, every painful thud against her back and ribs sending shocks of agony through her. Vivian's back scraped raw, her clothes soaking up the blood from the stairs. Each hit made her body scream in protest, but still, he dragged her, unrelenting.

When they reached the living room, he threw her across the floor like a doll. She hit the ground hard, gasping for breath. Her body ached in every possible way, but she barely had time to register the pain before she heard the rattle of kitchen utensils. Her father had stormed into the kitchen, rummaging around with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine.

She knew what he was looking for.

Her eyes darted to the fruit basket on the dining table. With trembling hands, she reached into it and pulled out a knife, her heart racing in her chest.

Her father emerged from the kitchen, holding a heavy grinder cutter. The vicious gleam in his eyes made her heart pound. He pointed the cutter at her, his voice a low growl.

"Come here. You deserve to see what I did to your mother," he snarled. "I'm the animal, huh?! You said I'm the animal!"

Vivian's pulse raced, fear coursing through her veins. He lunged at her, but she reacted instinctively, shoving him away with every ounce of strength she had. He stumbled, losing his balance, and the grinder cutter fell from his hand, clattering onto the floor.

Vivian scrambled to her feet, her body screaming in pain as she ran towards the staircase. But her father was quick; too quick. He grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back with terrifying strength, lifting her off the ground and slamming her back into the center of the living room.

She hit the floor with a sickening thud, the wind knocked out of her. Before she could react, he was on top of her, straddling her chest, his fists raining down on her like sledgehammers.

Vivian tried to shield herself, curling into a ball as his fists pounded against her arms, her face, her ribs. Every blow felt like it would shatter her bones. Her vision blurred, and she tasted blood in her mouth. She couldn't move, she was trapped under his weight, helpless to stop the relentless assault.

And then, with a sickening calm, he reached for the grinder cutter that had fallen to the floor. With a twisted sneer, he slashed at her arms. Vivian let out a blood-curdling scream as the blade tore through her skin, the pain blinding, searing.

"Stop it… please… I'll call the police…" she gasped, her voice barely a whisper.

"The police?!" He laughed, a harsh, guttural sound. "That bitch said the same thing!"

His hands found her throat, his fingers digging into her skin, choking her. Her world began to fade to black as her vision swam. She gasped for air, but there was none. Her lungs burned, her head pounded. Her mind raced with memories of her life, her miserable, abusive life.

She blinked up at him, her father...a monster...squeezing the life out of her. She hated him. She hated him with every fiber of her being.

"I hate those eyes," he snarled, his voice thick with loathing. With one hand, he reached for her face, his fingers digging into her eye socket.

Vivian screamed. It was the the rawest expression of pain and terror. In desperation, she reached under her, feeling for the knife she had grabbed from the fruit basket. Her fingers wrapped around the handle.

Without thinking, without hesitating, she plunged the knife into her father's chest as hard as she could.

He let out a monstrous howl of pain, his body jerking violently as the blade sank into him. A rush of hot blood gushed from the wound, splattering across Vivian's face. She gasped, her chest heaving, as her father's grip on her loosened.

He collapsed to the side, gasping, choking on his own blood. His eyes were wide with shock, his hands clawing at the knife still embedded in his chest. And then, with one final, gurgling breath, he went still.

Dead.

Vivian lay there, gasping for air, her body trembling uncontrollably. Blood.... his blood... covered her face, her hands, her clothes. And then, as the adrenaline drained from her body, everything went dark.

She collapsed into unconsciousness, the world fading into silence.



(I HATE THIS CHAPTER EVEN WHEN I WAS WRITING THIS CHAPTER I WAS CRYING, DONT KNOW WHY ... I WAS SCARED OF MY OWN CYCLE OF THOUGHTS IN THIS CHAPTER) As always you can support my work by following me on patreon accuscripter and read ahead.

 

[accuscripter]

Her knees buckled under her as she collapsed in Rupert's arms, her sobs growing weaker until the world around her faded to black.

Vivian's senses were fuzzy, the sharp ache in her head clouding reality. A voice, distant yet familiar, kept calling her name. "Vivian… Vivian… wake up!" Someone was stroking her face gently, trying to rouse her. Through her heavy eyelids, she barely made out the face of her brother, Rupert, hovering over her.

"Come on, Viv… get up!" His voice sounded strangely calm, yet the urgency was undeniable.

She groaned as she stirred, her whole body protesting the movement. He helped her sit up. It all felt like a dream; her bloody hands, the chaos, the nightmare she just escaped. Her back throbbed with pain, yet everything around her looked eerily… clean. There were no bloodstains, no bodies. Not even a speck of dust on the polished floor. Everything was pristine and clear.

Confused, she glanced around. Her mother wasn't there. The horror she'd just witnessed, or had she caused it, seemed to have evaporated into nothingness. Only Rupert remained. He looked at her with an unreadable expression.

"Where is Mother?" she asked cautiously, feeling the unease settle into her bones.

Rupert's eyes darkened. "In the room upstairs," he said quietly, a cold edge in his tone.

"And that man?" Her voice quivered. She could barely bring herself to say Father.

Rupert's lips tightened. "Also in the room."

Vivian tried to stand, though her legs wobbled beneath her. She could hardly feel the ground beneath her feet, as if her body was no longer hers. Her bloody back throbbed painfully, but the overwhelming numbness inside made it all feel unreal. She limped toward the staircase, needing to see them, needing to prove to herself this was all just some cruel dream.

But as she neared the stairs, Rupert's hand grabbed her arm tightly, yanking her back. "Where are you going?"

"To see Mother…" she whispered, her voice fragile but hopeful. "She's okay, right?" A strained smile pulled at her lips, as though clinging to some false hope.

Rupert stared at her, the look on his face growing darker. "She's dead, Vivian," he said flatly, his voice cold and unrelenting.

Vivian froze. His words pierced her like the knife she had tried to pull from her mother's chest. "No… no, no, no, that's not possible. It was just a dream," she muttered, shaking her head as if trying to shake off the nightmare.

But Rupert's next words hit her even harder. "It wasn't a dream," he said quietly, the finality of his words weighing down on her.

Her stomach twisted violently. "Then… Father?" she asked, barely able to get the words out. Her heart raced, her throat dry.

Rupert nodded, his face grim. "He's dead too."

Her chest tightened, and tears welled in her eyes. She stared at her brother, a realization dawning on her that she couldn't accept. "I… I killed him," she whispered hoarsely, tears streaming down her face. The weight of her confession hung in the air like a storm cloud about to break.

Rupert's expression didn't change. "No," he said, his voice softer, almost detached. "He killed himself… after he killed Mother."

Vivian's heart pounded in her chest. Her mind spun in a dizzying whirlpool of guilt and horror. She saw flashes of blood, her father's eyes bulging as she thrust the knife into him, her mother's cold, lifeless face. It was all her fault.
"NO!" she screamed, her voice shaking with hysteria. "No, I did it… I killed him! I stabbed him!" Her body trembled uncontrollably, as if trying to shake free from the unbearable truth. "I killed them all!"

Suddenly, Rupert slapped her hard across the face. The force of the blow sent her stumbling back, gasping for air. Her skin stung, but it was the shock that left her breathless.

"YOU DID NOTHING!"

Rupert's voice roared in her ears. His face was inches from hers, his eyes blazing.

"Do you understand? You weren't even here. None of this is on you."

Vivian's mind refused to process the words. It felt like the floor had been ripped out from beneath her. "But I was here… I was here," she cried weakly, struggling against his grasp, her nails digging into his skin. She felt suffocated, the weight of her guilt crushing her.

"It's your fault! You didn't protect her! You let him kill her!" Her voice cracked, filled with accusation and grief. "You let that monster… you let him take her from us!"

Rupert's face twisted in anguish. "Yes, it's my fault," he murmured, pulling her close, his voice breaking as he held her struggling form. "It's all my fault." His grip tightened as she thrashed against him, hitting him with every ounce of her strength remaining in her injured arms, her body convulsing like a dying fish gasping for air.

Vivian was unraveling, her strength slipping away with each sob. She felt the life drain out of her, her limbs growing weak, her mind collapsing into a pit of despair. Her vision blurred, and her knees buckled under her as she collapsed in Rupert's arms, her sobs growing weaker until the world around her faded to black.

"Vivian… Vivian…!" Her brother's desperate voice echoed in her ears as she fell into the abyss.

---

When her eyes finally opened again, the familiar coldness of the jail cell greeted her. She lay on the hard ground, her body curled into itself, her face damp with tears. "Rupert," she whispered, her voice hoarse, calling out into the void.

But Rupert was dead. He had been dead for days now.

And here she was, locked away, accused of murdering the only person she would never harm.

Her body ached with the same unbearable pain she had felt all those years ago. The weight of loss, the horror of betrayal. It all crashed down on her like a tidal wave, drowning her in the relentless agony of her past.

Sobbing uncontrollably, she curled into herself, her mind spiraling into the darkest corners of her memories. And in the shadows, Detective Sarah Blake stood quietly, watching her.



As always you can support my work by following me on patreon accuscripter and read ahead.

 

[accuscripter]

Sarah had been tailing that car since it left the police station. Her eyes were locked on the license plate of the black sedan ahead of her,

Sarah had been tailing that car since it left the police station. Her eyes were locked on the license plate of the black sedan ahead of her, the car she knew all too well. It was John Blake's car; her husband's. Her breath was shallow, her grip on the steering wheel tight, as the reality of what she was doing sank in deeper with every turn of the wheels.

the investigation into John had been… unsettling. On the surface, everything seemed ordinary—his routine, his work, his whereabouts. Yet something wasn't right. There was a nagging feeling in Sarah's gut that wouldn't go away. Every lead she'd followed on the Vivian case, every thread she pulled, somehow led back to John. But why? He wasn't directly involved in the murders, of that much she was sure. But there was something; or someone tugging him into the web.

A Someone else.

Sarah's heart clenched at the thought. The possibility that her husband was cheating on her had slowly started to creep in, poisoning her mind with doubt. As much as she hated to admit it, the signs were there. Late nights, unexplained absences, calls he would avoid in her presence. Now, she was watching his car glide through the streets, not on some official business, but something far more personal.

But still she felt a strange wave of relief wash over her regardless of this cheating scenario and him spying over her for others. If it was just an affair; just infidelity; at least it wasn't murder. At least he wasn't complicit in Vivian's crimes. Maybe he was just… being used.

The car in front of her took a sharp turn into a narrow alley. Sarah's eyes narrowed. This area looked familiar.

Too familiar.

She followed closely, her pulse quickening when John pulled into the parking lot of a towering apartment building. Her mind raced.

"This is where we picked up Vivian", She thought.

The very place where two days ago, she had captured the notorious Vivian Donovan. What were the odds that John would show up here? Her thoughts spiraled.

Why here of all places?
Why now?

Sarah parked her car a few spaces away, careful to keep out of sight. She watched as John stepped out of his vehicle and disappeared into the building. She followed, moving quickly but silently, her heart pounding in her chest. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw him enter the elevator and press the button for the seventh floor.

The seventh floor.

Why here? she thought again, feeling a cold sense of dread wash over her. She waited for the elevator to ascend before following, taking the stairs to stay out of sight. By the time she reached the seventh floor, she could hear the distant sound of John's footsteps echoing down the hallway. Sarah froze when she saw which apartment door he was approaching.

That apartment.

Her blood ran cold. She knew this place. She'd been here before; days ago. What the hell was John doing here?

She ducked into the shadows of the hallway, watching John knock on the door. It swung open, and he stepped inside. She waited. Five minutes passed, then ten. He wasn't coming out. Her fingers trembled as she pulled out her phone. She needed answers, and she needed them now.

Without thinking, Sarah dialed his number. The phone rang once… twice… and then, he picked up.

"Hey, honey," John's voice was light, too light for someone supposedly working a case. "Are you coming home?" Sarah asked, trying to keep her voice steady, casual.

"Ah, no… not yet. I'm on a stakeout," he replied smoothly, but something in his tone sounded rehearsed.

Sarah's eyes flicked toward the door of the apartment. She swallowed, her throat dry. "A stakeout? Really?" She forced a laugh. "It's freezing outside. You must be cold in the car."

"Oh, yeah, it's chilly," John said, his voice slightly tense now. "But, you know, it's the job. Gotta stay out here until something breaks."

Sarah's grip tightened on the phone. "Who's with you? I thought I heard someone in the background."

There was a brief pause. "Oh, no one. Just some drunk stumbling through the alley," John said quickly. "You know how it is. Nothing exciting."

Sarah bit her lip, her mind racing. She glanced back at the apartment door. "Alright… take care, then," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "Stay safe."

"Yeah, you too. Love you." John said, his voice casual again, as if nothing was amiss.

Sarah ended the call and stared at her phone, her hands trembling. Her gaze drifted back to the apartment door. She knew something wasn't right. Her instincts screamed at her that there was more going on than just an affair. But what?

Slowly, she opened her phone's contact list. Her thumb hovered over the search bar, her mind racing as she typed one letter; "L".

Her thoughts spiraled as the name flashed on the screen. Laura had been a name mentioned in passing during a recent investigation. A name that seemed to float on the edges of her consciousness. A name John had mentioned once… or had he? Sarah's mind was too clouded with doubt to recall. But now, as she stared at it on her phone, she knew she couldn't ignore it anymore.

Suddenly, a wave of frustration hit her. She shoved the phone back into her pocket and stormed out of the building. The cold night air stung her face as she climbed into her car, her heart still racing, her mind a storm of emotions. The truth was there, waiting for her to uncover it.

She dialed another number.

"Maya, it's me," Sarah said, her voice low and urgent.

"Sarah? How it's going?" Maya's voice sounded concerned.

"Get me everything you can on someone named Laura Smith," Sarah said, her voice hardening with determination. "I need to know who she is and what she's been up to."

The name felt like a ticking time bomb, and Sarah was done waiting for it to explode.

 

[accuscripter]

Max sat nervously in the small, sterile meeting room of the police station. The harsh fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a cold,

Max sat nervously in the small, sterile meeting room of the police station. The harsh fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a cold, clinical glow on the metal table in front of him. His mind raced, trying to piece together what could possibly come next. He had been waiting for what felt like hours when the door swung open with force, startling him. Detective Sarah Blake strode into the room, followed closely by Maya, her trusted colleague. Both women exuded authority and determination, and Max instantly sensed that this was not just another routine meeting.

"Mr. Max Stilenski?" Sarah asked, her voice firm but not unkind.

Max rose to his feet, extending his hand. "Yes, that's me," he said, shaking her hand with a firm grip.

"I'm Sarah Blake, lead officer in charge of the Vivian Donovan case," she introduced herself, her sharp gaze never leaving his face. There was a subtle intensity in her demeanor, a quiet power that told Max she was not to be underestimated.

Max straightened up, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on him. "How can I help you, Detective?"

Sarah folded her arms across her chest and studied him for a moment before speaking. "This case… it's complicated," she began, her tone measured. "There are a lot of loose ends, a lot of things that don't add up. And I don't believe in punishing the wrong person. That's why I'm here."

Max raised an eyebrow, unsure of where this was going. "Okay…?"

Sarah took a step closer, lowering her voice slightly. "I believe Vivian may not be the person we should be focusing on. There's someone else; someone who's pulling the strings. But I need help getting to the bottom of it, and I believe you might be able to assist me."

Max felt a flicker of hope. "What exactly are you asking me to do?"
"Well… I want to gamble with my career as the stake"… would you play with me? She said.

I don't really like to gamble… but for Vivian I can do anything… she is mother of my child… I can not risk my child her mother… before he completed, Maya cut in.

"You are married ???? Vivian is your wife??? Why I didn't found this information??"
Sarah was also astounded with this new information…

"well… no … not yet… married... I want her to be mother of my adopted daughter…" he clarified, with a shy smile across his face that suddenly turned to a serious expression.

"If you are willing to gamble then I am ready to play the game." He responded.

Sarah smiled a little and said, "Well, I want you to work with me to capture the real culprit. I'm willing to share sensitive information with you about the case, under one condition," Sarah said, her voice hardening. "If any of that information leaks, if you compromise this investigation in any way; both you and Vivian will face the consequences. Are you prepared to accept that risk?"

Max's mind raced. This was a chance, possibly the only chance, to help Vivian and clear her name. But the stakes were high. One wrong move, and everything could fall apart. He looked Sarah directly in the eyes, steeling his resolve. "I'm willing to do whatever it takes to help Vivian."

Sarah nodded, satisfied with his response. "Good. Maya, bring the contract."

Maya, who had been quietly observing the exchange, stepped forward and placed a thick folder on the table. She opened it to reveal a detailed document, outlining the legal parameters of Max's involvement. Sarah gestured to it. "This is a formal cooperation agreement. It ensures that you understand the gravity of your involvement in this case, and that you'll adhere to the confidentiality terms. If you break those terms, you'll be held accountable. Understand?"

Max nodded, feeling the weight of the decision. But he was ready.

Maya slid the contract toward him, pointing to the section where he needed to sign. "You'll need to read through this carefully. It outlines the responsibilities and protections for both parties. By signing, you agree to assist in the investigation without compromising the integrity of the case."

Max quickly skimmed the document. It was thorough, almost overwhelming in its legal jargon, but he understood the basics. If he betrayed Sarah's trust or leaked any information, he and Vivian would be in deeper trouble than they already were. But there was also something in the contract that caught his attention: a clause that stated he would be allowed access to certain key information and investigative findings, giving him a degree of leverage to influence the direction of the investigation.

"Before I sign," Max began, looking up at Sarah, "I need to know something. Will this agreement allow me to access any evidence you've already collected on Vivian's case? I want to make sure I can contribute meaningfully to the investigation."

Sarah exchanged a glance with Maya, and after a brief pause, she nodded. "Yes. You'll be given access to some of the case files, but only what I deem necessary for you to assist effectively. This isn't a free pass into everything. But you'll have enough to work with."

Max nodded, feeling a sense of relief. "I'm in."

He took the pen Maya offered and signed his name on the dotted line, followed by his thumbprint stamp; a formality, but an important one. Sarah and Maya did the same, officially sealing the deal.

After the paperwork was completed, Sarah extended her hand again. "Welcome aboard, Mr. Stilenski. We're going to need all the help we can get."

Max shook her hand, feeling the tension lift just slightly. "I won't let you down," he said with determination.

Maya, ever efficient, gathered up the signed documents and stood, motioning for Max to follow her. "We'll need to discuss the process from here," she said, her tone professional but with a hint of urgency.

As they exited the meeting room, Sarah stayed behind for a moment, watching them go. Her mind was already racing ahead to the next steps. This was a calculated risk, but one she was willing to take. Max's involvement could either break this case wide open, or send everything spiraling out of control.

---

In the hallway, Maya briefed Max on the next steps. "You'll be working closely with us from now on, but we need to establish boundaries," she said firmly. "understand that if you step out of line, this could turn very bad for both you and Vivian."

"I understand," Max said, his voice steady. "But if I'm going to help, I need to know exactly what we're dealing with. I need to understand who we're really after."

Maya nodded. "You'll be brought up to speed. There's someone else involved in this, someone we suspect has been pulling the strings behind the scenes. We're piecing it together, but we're not there yet. That's where you come in."

Max's brow furrowed. "And what about Vivian? What's her current status?"

"She's still in custody," Maya said, her voice dropping slightly. "But if we can prove what we suspect, that she's not the mastermind behind all of this, there's a chance we can turn things around for her."

Max exhaled slowly, his mind racing. "Then let's get to work."

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