Massively unedited. 3k of this mess, darlings. 3k.

#TW | mentions of abduction, creepy sonofabitch, mature themes all around, etc.

Hard hats, all around kids.

'Lyssian, Aron, and Benjamin'

Saturday

"You disappeared?"

The detective had asked. His voice- a remnant of a not so distant past - punctures the small four cornered room like a knife to a plush skin. It's startling in the eerie silence, but the second recording starts without attention to the staunch silence in the room, rolling readily and with a clear clarity of every word, breath, and stilted sentence.

Kit Pouliot was right; his recording app was a worthy investment.

Detective Moore's eyes flicker- briefly - to the one-way mirror. He wonders how she's faring, watching all of this unfold. The ending.

"She's there, isn't she?"

The detective looks back at Aron who is now staring at the same mirror with a renewed look of particular interest. There's a settled calm in him, a still lake of emotions.

"Would that change anything?"

Would that change the ending?

Aron smiles. "No. No, I guess not."

"Shall we?" The detective motions for the phone again. The cracked screen phone, cased in a half opaque, white plastic casing. If you turn it over, you'll see two pressed polaroid prints and a dried flower.

One polaroid shows a family- a mother with a beaming smile, sun-kissed skin with her arms around a lanky boy hunched slightly from the weight, his smirk askew and his eyes too wide, showing surprise. And a father, his smile not as bright, but just as soft and loving, with his arms around the woman, his wife. The background is dark, fragments barely visible as the focus is very clearly on the family.

Another polaroid shows the same boy, this time older by a few years, arm and arm with a girl of full, long hair. Their grins are wide; almost as if they're mid laughter, faces sheened with a clear shine. The background is a little more visible in this one- the ocean muddled but present in the background.

The flower is a dried sunflower, its previous youthful yellow had darkened to a brown.

Kit Pouliot's most precious item.

And the answer to everything.

Almost everything.

". . . Maybe this will help," Detective Moore murmurs, rummaging from the box of evidence a little bit until he finds the photo. It's a little blurry- and darker than anything, but the three people in the shot are as clear as they can get. Enough to understand the features, enough to look through a database.

The photograph is new, something scrambled this morning. Found at the hospital lost and found after it had apparently fallen from Kit Pouliot's tightly clenched fist when he had been brought in, bleeding and unmoving.

Aron's eyes flicker downward- and there is shock. An inhale. Then he exhales. When his eyes meet the detective once again, they're darker, shadowed. His smile remains, but it has lost its sustenance. Flat, like its printed on a ceramic doll.

"Ah," Aron says, voice clear and indiscernible. "I understand."

The detective smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes. "You understand."

That is isn't an investigation. Nor a trial.

No.

This is an execution.

Detective Moore presses play once more.

"I followed a clue, I think. I-" Sunny rubbed her eyes with her free hand, frown deepening. Her skin was pale, almost sickly green, with beads of sweat forming all across her face.

Detective Moore squirmed in his seat, fingers fluttering over the button to call for the nurse, but she had been resolute to give all of the facts. Shaking her head every time he tried to call for one.

" It's okay, take it one step at a time." This was all he could do for her. Patiently wait and offer encouragement.

Sunny exhaled, languid and deep. "We- the three of us. Me, Kit, and. . . and Lorcan. We were walking together to go to Kit's dad's flower shop. And. . . the boys were talking amongst themselves, discussing. . . some things, I don't remember. I think. . . I think Marigold came up to them. I saw her walking fast. She- what did she look like? She wore a black dress. Her expression was troubled. Wrong. Pale. Oh, oh. Her fists were shaking and she looked like how I felt when I eat fish. I don't like fish. The texture bothers me. . . Their voices kind of. . . faded in my head. Because- oh, right, you're not from here, yes? You're. . . from America. So you don't know. The cemetery doesn't really have a parking lot. And it's nestled over a hill. So there's this section. . . a side of the hill that's been mowed down enough for cars to get parked.

And it felt like, more than anything, he wanted me to see it." Her voice quieted; softening into breathlessness. ". . . Like a mouse trap. You see the trap itself very clearly. But there's also the cheese. The red rose in a sea of thorns."

"Who was it, Sunny? Who did you see?"

"Aron Kiurtsch. Sasha's brother. And Lorcan's brother. Lyssian."

The detective can clearly remember how much his heart pounded then. This entire case- these people, its victims, its murders, its murderers - and not once had he ever connected Lyssian Delos Reyes into it.

"Lyssian Delos Reyes?" because yes, yes. He had to ask. And the confusion in his name had Sunny nodding, a small smile on her face that's not really one of mirth. It was painful to look at. Her eyes were so glassy.

"It was him. I was sure. His built, his hair. His back was to me, and he was talking- saying something. Lyssian doesn't really gesticulate. Pollux is the one who- flings his hands around. He's a little accident prone. I remember one time he was making coffee and a customer came in. He tried say hi and got steaming milk all over his arm. He had to go to the ER.

Lyssian keeps everything to himself. Every little movement, little twitch. He's very contained. I liked that about him. Made him more interesting. Made it harder to read him.

And I think I heard about it before. . . how Lyssian was friends with Aron. But I really started thinking- how were they friends after seeing them together like that. Because I suddenly couldn't connect it very well, too muddled. Lyssian's family moved here from a different state. Aron dropped out of high school. It could've been a multitude of things- knowing the same people, jogging the same route. There were so many factors, it is a small town after all.

But none of them added up precisely. All very. . . murky. It's so awful when it's all murky.

They were by his car, Aron's. And I couldn't really hear them, but I hid it near a bush. Just in case. Futile that was."

Sunny's bitter laugh rings around the room. It is so obvious that the interrogation room is barely used; apart from the floating dust motes under harsh light, you could smell the disuse. The faint smell of cleaning products underneath it.

Detective Moore watches Aron's face as he suddenly stares at the phone with barely hinted amusement.

Aron's eyes flicker upward, meeting the man's eyes in front of him. He smiles brighter at his expression, though his eyes remain blank. "You look angry."

The detective doesn't have to hide it anymore. The loathing he has for this man. This boy. Days, he had kept his face cool as they untangled everything. And after finishing Sunny's interview today- there is nothing but strong hatred for this person thrumming in his veins.

"There's not a lot of amusement for a monster."

Aron's face twitches. And he pouts. "That's horrible of you to say, detective. And here I thought we were going to be good friends."

I'd rather die. Moore stretches his mouth to what is passable for a smile. "No, thank you."

"Shame." Aron leans forward and the detective's brain does everything in its power not to flinch and lean back. He settles his elbows on the metal table, eyes gleaming as he rests his chin on top of his cupped hands.

This time, the detective couldn't stop his body from at least, making a face that he quickly smoothes out.

"Lyssian liked that I was a little monstrous, you know. He found it. . . fascinating."

It was hard. Hard to keep the detective's jaw from clenching.

"Are you going to confess?" The detective ignores this- this game of some sort. "Are you finally going to tell the truth?"

"Whatever Sunny says is the absolute truth. That is my confession."

". . . Are you prepared for that?"

"I've been prepared for a long time," Aron murmurs. "I know what I am. I know what I like. People are wonderful toys when you're careful, but. . . more enjoyable when they're a little. . . more broken."

Moore swallowed. He couldn't do it anymore. His stomach is twisting. "You're sick."

"Who should judge what's sick or not?" Aron leans back on his chair, eyes back to the two-way. "For all we know, the people who call themselves 'healthy' are the sick ones. After all, I only follow the animalistic pretext of the food chain. Predator and prey, swallowing the weak. Humans are damned because they have the power of choice. They choose to this, to do that, all hoping it grants them a special spot to the next life.

All I do, really, is to submit to the pretext. It is not my fault the weak are as weak as they are."

Aron laughs lightly. "Play the recording, detective. I can see your vein. . . pulsing."

Detective Moore closes his eyes, exhaling roughly. He plays it again.

"- he wanted me to see them, I didn't realised until it was too late. When I peeked again, they were gone but the car was there. His car. And I remembered- Sasha Kiurtsch was gunned down on the road. She had managed to escape, but she was too weak. But there was a car she had managed to get out from. A car.

My heart was throbbing loudly, and I looked back, but I couldn't see Kit or Lorcan or Marigold anymore, they must've left to find the clue Isla left. At the pot. I don't know where it is, or who has it. You'll have to check with Kit when. . . when he wakes up."

The choked sob that came out of her at the last words rattled the detective's heart. Her glassy eyes had burned fresh tears, but she was quick to brush them away, frowning as she steeled herself.

"I-I'm fine. Fine. Oh, where was I? Yes. It was dumb, probably, very dumb to go, but I went after the car. There were no one else on sight, and I was very quiet.

One of the tail lights was broken, just cracked, nothing much. But looked old. The other one looked new. Too new. It was an old car though, and I did not want to be right. The trunk was loose, so I looked around again, made sure, and I opened it.

You don't really smell blood when it's dried and old. My heart was pounding so very loud. I could still be wrong, I thought. Lang-Air road was near a forest, it could just be dried blood from some kind of animal. But then I looked further, because I wanted to be sure. And there was. . . there was hair. Blonde hair. Too long to be a man's. And there was teeth. Three. Human.

And then he was there. He had been watching me. Lured Lyssian away. I couldn't turn away because he was already there. Hold on. Kit's phone- I had been recording everything. As soon as I had ducked behind the bush I put it on. Kit taught me that. He said if I'm ever alone and I found a clue or a trail or anything fascinating. Always have something to record it. Hold on."

Shuffling again and soon, a crackled recording comes to life.

"- little kitty."

The distinct voice of Aron Kiurtsch comes to life through the muffle of wherever Sunny had kept the phone.

"Bad to touch things not yours."

"I could feel something on the back of my spine. It was a knife, I could feel the point. He didn't dig in enough to hurt, just enough for me to understand the contours of it," Sunny said matter-of-factly, almost deadpan in her description. " His other hand held onto my elbow. . . Calluses. Long fingers. He towered over me. People think I'm short because I'm always around Kit. . . but I'm pretty. . . tall myself. But he was still tall. And he smelled. . . like wet earth."

"Sunny?"

Sunny shook her head, eyes blinking as it became unfocused. "I think they gave me. . . too much. Morphine. My mouth's. . . dry."

"Hold on, I'm ca-"

"No, please." She closed her eyes as she had found the detective's wrist, stopping him through a weak hold. Her hands felt cold. "I can get through this. I need. . . to do this today, yes?"

"Yes, but-"

"That's enough. It's okay."

The recording continued as she took massive gulps of air, steeling herself.

"I could scream," Sunny said, voice even.

"You could," Aron agreed, voice smooth. Sounded almost as if he was good-natured humouring her. "But you'd never know where Isla is. And if I'm caught now, I'll never tell them where she is so you'd live, knowing she stayed hungry, desperate, and dying."

"I don't believe you have her. She texted Lorcan."

"I only got her today. Slippery little thing. Fast too. Do you want to see her? She's not far." His voice pitches lower, friendly as ever, but his tone has darkened. "Let's make this fun. I'll let you go, you don't have any evidence on me. Even if you babbled to the police now, it'll be your word against mine. And my sister just died, so I'm pretty sure they'll give me some slack.

You seem nosy and I know Isla had something up her sleeve, so I know I'm on the clock. But I want to make this interesting. It'll become boring otherwise, and I'm sure you'd like me to confess, figure out some. . . little holes in your little theories."

"He stepped back," Sunny said.

Aron's voice comes back a little more muffled, a little more far away. Sunny raised the app's volume up several times.

"For every hour that you leave me alone with her, I'll send you parts of little Isla. First, locks of hair. She has very nice hair, very silky. Then maybe a finger or two- or shall I start with toes? No one really cares about toes, she can hide them. They're painted white too, you can stort a limited edition collection. But after that. . . I'll have to find more. . . substantial pieces. And there's just so much more inside than there is outside.

Her life will be in your hands, sunshine. I can leave you a clue, here and now, on where we 'might' be hiding, and then you'll truly have to rely on the skills your family has. And every hour you don't figure it out, is every new little Isla shaved off of the original.

But! If you get in the car now, that won't even have to happen. You just need to be a good little girl and get in. That's all.

Dealer's choice, sunshine."

"He stepped back, smiled, eyes so kind and bland, proving it was really my choice. He got in the car, started it-" Sunny narrated as the sound of an engine came to abrupt life through the speaker. "- and I didn't know what to do. I know now that I should've gone to the police, gone to find Kit, but I'm not very good at making decisions. And I didn't like having the life of someone in my hands like that. Because then, all I could think about is them. All the little facts and stuff that I knew.

Isla with her big smile, her carefree nature. She liked hugs- whether or not you liked them back, she loved giving them. She smells like coconut and blood oranges, and one time, she had sneaked her niece out from daycare and took her to school, and I had never seen her look so enamoured with another, tinier human being.

And I couldn't do that. Be the reason that she'd lose her hair, or her toes. . . so I got in the car. And he said-"

"Good choice, sunshine. Now, shall we?" Aron's voice crackles through the speakers, the delight and triumph in his voice is louder than anything. "First, I'd like for you to give me your phone. Thank you." There is shuffling. Then the car door opens, and faintly, something dropping on the ground and being crushed. Repeatedly.

The sound of shuffling. "Now, isn't that better?"

"Sure," replies Sunny shortly.

Aron laughs. "Docile. I like that very much. You're a sweet one, sunshine."

Sunny doesn't reply. Squeals of tires and soon, the sounds of a car moving.

"Now, for being such a good girl, I'll reward you with three answers to three questions. About anything. And I don't like lying, so be assured I will tell you the honest to God truth."

". . . Is Isla really alive?"

"Yes. I didn't really plan on taking her- I don't really like the brats, you know? Attempting to tame them tests my patience. I'm not like fucking Benjamin. Breaking them is one thing, knowing they're docile and nice and still have some sort of light in their fucking eyes is another. I mean, I don't want no goddamn puppet. If you want, you can replace her. I'd like you much better. I feel like you'd be a great improvement."

". . . Son of a bitch," the detective was unable to stop himself then. The disgust that ran down his spine, across his skin.

"I'm hurt, detective," Aron says now, tone choking with mirth.

"Shut up."

"I. . . I'll think about it," past Sunny murmured, her voice going softer. "Who's. . . Who is Benjamin?"

"Mhm. How much do you wanna know, sunshine?"

"Everything."

"Brave girl. Mhmh. Well, he's new in town. Was new in town. You know him better, I think, as the new professor at the college. He's a little. . . well, fucked in the head. Met him a few years back. Same way I met Lys, actually. We were buddies for a while. You see Benjamin. . . I picked up on it very quickly that he. . . oh, what's the word? He treated other humans as. . . experiments. He was brilliant you see, but. Shy. Well-" A rough laugh punctured through the hallowed car. "Not really shy. Just quiet. His head is a little messed up you know, he doesn't like to talk about it but I'm pretty sure he was touched as a child."

The car pulled to a stop, the break high and whiny.

"We're here."

"I still have one question."

"Shoot."

". . . Lys."

"That's not a question, little girl."

The reminder of the recording brought a scrunch to Sunny's face then, despite her pale pallor.

"I don't like all the nicknames, but I needed to keep him talking. If. . . if only to keep give Kit and Lorcan time. If only to make sure it'd be a while before we reach Isla. We hadn't gone far- the cemetery is close to Major Hill, and we were just at the bottom of the forest, away from where people usually parked when they went to climb.

My head was while running a mile a minute. I tried to remember every route and marker I knew of Major Hill. But. . . Lyssian. I needed to know, if only to have it on record."

The recording's sound against Sunny's clothes is harsh with the volume up.

"You. Lyssian. Be-Bejamin."

"He smiled," Sunny remarked. "It disturbed me. Adrenaline. . . adrenaline was one thing, but the fear had settled and I couldn't. . . I couldn't feel my legs. His eyes. . . they were assured. A predator who knew he had won without a doubt. There was just no fear there."

"Me, Lyssian, and Bejamin. Yeah. Hmm. It's a good story actually. Let's start with Lyssian because he's the most familiar to you. I'm not sure if you know this of him, but Lyssian is a genius. When he went to Toronto for university, he said it was the first time he could ever breathe. Their family has a tight noose on everyone of them, especially, he said, with a brother like Pollux. And his parents had been kept in fear of the next worst thing.

And when he got away, finally, finally, he wanted to do everything. He wanted to flex his intellect. He wanted to be the best at anything he did. He still liked his family of course, but with the noose a little. . . loose, ha, it was easier to breathe.

And ah, a man with so much to prove, so much pride. . . it was too easy to play with him.

I was in Toronto after a stint, Sasha's mother pissed at me at something, I don't really remember, and I was staying with my grand-mère. I was bored, met with Lyssian, and then found Benjamin. Odd, quiet Benjamin who stared too hard at people and Lyssian who put his nose at them.

God it was too easy. All they needed were words of encouragement, really. Benjamin was easy to break, just give him the nudge. Make his fascination with theorising how much torture and fear you can instill in a human being perfectly rationale, and man was ready to do anything.

Lyssian was a little harder. Asshole had morals. But his pride and ego are high. And he was depraved, for a long time, of being who he is.

It was so easy. Too easy."

"W-what do you mean?"

"Oh, but sunshine I think you already used your three questions. And since we're here, I think it's time to go. But here, since you've been wonderful, I'll give you a little preview.

I had managed to convince the two idiots to find a girl, keep her, do anything they wanted with a fresh piece of human being in the hands of academics, and to make her disappear as if she had never existed. It was a game for Benji and a puzzle for Lys.

Her name was Madelyn Cote."