Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Introduction

Well, a while back I mentioned that I wanted to write a story a week based on my longer works, but… Last year I came across a list of topics that I really loved. The problem was that I found it in mid-October, so I didn't participate. My plan was to do it this October 2025, but once again… hehe, things happened (mostly my laziness). So I decided to start writing some chapters and will try to complete the challenge this year: 31 stories (because I'm really lazy) by this October 2025. I hope you enjoy them.

This list was created by Cait/Mika @tsukiiyomi

Link to the list: https://x.com/tsukiiiyomi/status/1841206771630948745

List of indications:

TCOALTOBER

Prompted by @tsukiiiyomi on Twitter:

1.Favorite Sibling

2.Vices

3.When We Were Young

4.Coffins

5.Role Reversal

6.Julia

7.With Weapon

8.Shared Delusion

9.Dear Mom & Dad,

10.Jealousy

11.Ritual

12.Little Rabbit

13.[BAD END]

14.Obsession

15.Breaking and Entering

16.Future

17.Red Thread of Fate

18.Bouquet/Flowers

19.Cannibalism

20.Dream World

21.Regrets

22.Seeing Ghosts

23.Intoxicated

24.(Holding onto) Hope

25.Panic Attack

26.Demons

27.Backstabber

28."Goodnight"

29.Fear and Loathing

30.Safe Place

31.Dealer's Choice! (Do whatever you want, you've earned it!)

Chapter Text

Andrew collapsed, exhausted, onto the old couch in his small living room. It had been another hard day at school: the teasing and jokes never failed, wearing him down as always. And to make things worse, the rumors that once were whispered were now almost shouted in his face…

Always alone, just him and his sister in that tiny apartment, with Ashley following him everywhere. He hated when people spoke badly about him, but he hated even more when they talked about her.

Why was it strange to be with his sister?

Why was it wrong to have a good relationship with her?

Why was it wrong to give her a long hug?

He hated them because, in a way, they were right. It was strange how she clung to his arm, how she gave him those long looks with her big eyes… damn.

Ashley acted far too affectionate with him. Their arguments often sounded more like a couple’s than siblings’. The lunches together, all those little details that—now that people pointed them out—Andrew could clearly see.

He stopped at the park before heading home. He needed to relax. He was angry, furious, and he knew he could be volatile. He didn’t want to take it out on the wrong person.

He pulled out his pack of Slowsuicide cigarettes and lit one. It was a habit he should quit, but it was the only way he knew how to calm down. The smoke burned his throat, but in a strange way, it comforted and soothed him.

The laughter of two children pulled him out of his thoughts. They were playing on the swings, the older sister pushing the little one. Their laughter and play made him think of Ashley again.

So many times he had left behind friends and acquaintances just to stay with her… and it wasn’t fair to suffer the contempt of others simply because she was his sister. Well, he admitted that many times Ashley brought that solitude upon herself with the way she was.

Cruel and spiteful, with fits of rage that often ended in violence. But even in that, he would say it was all their parents’ fault.

He had told them many times that she needed help. That it wasn’t normal for her to have those outbursts, that behavior, that self-imposed loneliness. But, as always, their parents—especially their mother—dismissed his concerns, telling him Ashley was fine.

He finished his cigarette and put out the butt on the bench before heading home. But first, he stopped by the store to buy her a pack of lemon muffins.

There was no one else around, as if the world had pity on him and gave him a moment of solitude. He arrived at the small apartment and found Ashley on the couch, watching American Psycho for the hundredth time. When she noticed him, she jumped up, excited:

—Where were you? —she asked, frowning.

—Here, take this —Andrew replied, handing her the box of muffins.

Ashley smiled and instantly forgot her anger. She collapsed back onto the couch while opening the box with excitement. Andrew couldn’t help but smile slightly as he watched her devour the little cakes.

—Andrew, you’re my favorite brother —Ashley said with her mouth full.

Andrew smiled back:
—Don’t talk with your mouth full, dummy. Besides, I’m your only brother. Of course I’m your favorite.

—Who knows —Ashley replied—. Mom might have a lover. You know what she’s like, a slut. We might have a half-brother out there somewhere.

Andrew sighed and shook his head. It was things like this that left Ashley so alone. But he was determined to stay by her side, because… that’s why he was the favorite brother.

Chapter Text

The unholy marriage of the Graves siblings came with its vices. While Andrew was addicted to SlowSuicide cigarettes, Ashley had become obsessed with ToxiSoda soft drinks.

Before they fled the city and its crimes, Andrew smoked a pack of cigarettes a day, though he had somehow managed to cut down to half a pack daily.
Ashley, on the other hand, ever since living at the motel, had developed a small… or rather, a huge addiction to ToxiSoda. She started with one can a day, then two, then three, until she was simply buying the giant three-liter bottles, which they went through almost every two days.

One day, while restocking supplies, they both noticed how much money the other was wasting on their respective vices.

—Ash, you don’t need to bring so much soda —Andrew said as they loaded the groceries into the trunk of their small car.
Ashley, unfazed, flipped him off while taking a sip from one of her freshly bought cans.

—Don’t mess with me, Andrew —she shot back after another gulp from a can in the six-pack she had just bought—. You’ve got two cartons of cigarettes! And you’re opening one right now! —she pointed at the cartons in his bag and the pack Andrew was tearing open with his teeth.

—And you’re just the same, Ashley —Andrew retorted.

They both got into the car, glaring at each other, each turning back to their vices as the trip continued in tense silence.

Andrew drove, puffing smoke out the window without caring that ashes were falling inside the car. Ashley kept drinking longer and longer gulps, finishing her can and tossing it into the back seat.

Andrew frowned. He wanted to say something, but knew if he did, she would throw his cigarette ash and smoke back in his face. Then an idea struck him.

When they finally arrived home, Ashley let out a loud, unladylike burp just to annoy him. But before she could get out, Andrew grabbed her ankle and squeezed hard, making her yelp in pain. He quickly apologized, pulled her closer, and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. His plan was simple: use negative reinforcement followed by positive reinforcement to break her habit.

But instead, Ashley bit him. Completely taken off guard, Andrew soon felt her teeth sinking into his cheek. He pinched her leg in response, then bolted from the car, chased by a furious Ashley.

He had completely forgotten about the “Ashley factor.” And now she was on top of him, the two locked in a scuffle in their living room.

—Ashley, you crazy bitch, get off me! —Andrew shouted, struggling to hold back from hitting her.
—Fuck you, you started it first! —Ashley yelled, biting him again.

After several minutes of biting and pinching, Andrew and Ashley lay on the floor, exhausted, panting, sore, and covered in bruises and bite marks, glaring furiously at each other.

Andrew could only think about getting the groceries inside before the meat and milk spoiled. Luckily, Ashley had finally calmed down and didn’t want to keep fighting.

So Andrew wrapped an arm around her in a gentle embrace. Ashley simply returned the hug, and they stayed like that for a minute before he stood up and helped her to her feet.

At last, they brought the groceries in and put them away in the kitchen. Andrew sat on the couch with a ToxiSoda in hand, cracked it open, and took a sip.

—Damn, Ash… this tastes horrible —he said, grimacing.

Ashley, in response, lit up a cigarette, took a drag, and immediately began coughing.

—Cough, cough, cough! This tastes and smells like shit —she muttered, her throat burning.

They both burst into laughter. When it finally subsided, Ashley climbed on top of Andrew with a mischievous grin, took another drag, and passed the smoke from her mouth into his. Andrew held it for a moment before letting it drift into the air.

In return, Andrew took a sip from his can and gently passed it to Ashley, who drank it down with delight.

Chapter Text

Andrew sat on the couch with his little grandson in his arms. It was so pleasant to watch him grow up healthy and strong. Little Ethan was drinking from his formula bottle, while Ashley was outside in the yard with their other granddaughter, Willow, who had broken the family legacy of black hair with a chestnut shade identical to her father’s.

Lilith, the eldest of their children, was the first to get married. Her then-boyfriend—now husband—Collin was a nice guy: an IT specialist she had met in her foreign language classes. They developed a good relationship that eventually gave Ashley and Andrew two grandchildren they were more than happy to care for.

When Ethan finished the bottle, Andrew placed him on his shoulder and gently patted his back until he heard the awaited burp. Then he shifted him to the other shoulder, where the baby soon fell asleep.

Andrew cherished the calm rhythm of his breathing. He loved being a grandfather. This was the peaceful life he had fought so hard for. “It was all crap” —in his own words— having to grow old alongside his wife/sister just to finally enjoy this peace.

He heard Ashley coming back into the house, carrying a sleeping Willow in her arms. She carefully laid her down on the large couch in the living room.

—She helped me a lot in the garden —Ashley said with a smile, stroking her granddaughter’s hair.

—Yes. Collin already finished eating —Andrew replied with a smile of his own, looking at his wife.

Andrew took in the sight. This was his life now. His last years would be about this: peace, watching his grandchildren grow, seeing his children start their own families, and enjoying an unusual tranquility.

It was strange. He had to admit he never expected his children to be… normal. Lilith had become a philosophy teacher, married and with two kids. The twins, despite their closeness, had chosen different paths: Daniel became an environmentalist and a zoologist, while David went into IT. And the youngest, Abigail, was about to finish her degree in art.

All of them had —or had had— what Andrew would describe as “typical” relationships. The idea that any of his children might repeat what he and Ashley had was terrifying to him. He didn’t even know how he would react. At some point, he even thought his twin sons might develop that kind of incestuous bond. But no, it seemed they were the only “wayward” ones.

—Andrew… —Ashley’s voice pulled him from his thoughts—. I used to think Daniel and David would end up together.

Andrew stared at her. She gave him a mischievous smile in return. He knew she was only trying to get under his skin… and she was succeeding.

—Ashley, for God’s sake, don’t say that. Especially not in front of the kids —Andrew scolded, placing the baby gently in his padded crib.

—You’re still as uptight as ever —Ashley teased, rolling her eyes as she got up to wash her hands.

—I know you thought Daniel and David would end up together too. I thought the same thing —she added from the bathroom downstairs.

Andrew sighed, thankful the children were asleep. Ashley always managed to drive him crazy. That had never changed, no matter how much time passed.

And yet… he had to admit that the thought had crossed his mind more than once. Secretly, he even feared the twins might develop something between them. After all, they were strangely close. But that fear faded as they grew older.

Ashley came out of the bathroom and found Andrew sitting there, staring at the ceiling. It was a habit he had picked up with age: sitting still, lost in thought, as if he were speaking to God.

—Hey, old man, want to help me make dinner? —she asked, trying to pull him back from his thoughts.

Andrew blinked, got up from the floor, looked at his grandchildren, sighed, and went over to the kitchen. Ashley was chopping vegetables to throw into a pot of water warming on the stove.

—You want to make soup for dinner? —Andrew asked, pulling out a package of meat.

—Yes, I’m in the mood for some “Simple Soup” —she answered with a smile.

Unconsciously, Andrew did what he always used to do as a teenager: hooked her finger into his pants while they went on discussing some trivial matter.

Chapter Text

Ashley felt tired. The years of sneaking into other people’s houses and offering souls to The Entity had ended many springs ago. Now her days consisted of waking up early to make fluffy pancakes —the ones Andrew had taught her to cook— and brewing coffee.

Andrew, who had always been an early riser, now woke up much later. After retiring, he handed over control of the antique shop to his youngest daughter, Abigail, who ran it with an iron fist and had even modernized it —something that bothered Andrew a little.
He had wanted to keep the shop exactly as Mr. Wilhelmina had given it to him so long ago, but he couldn’t fight against technology. Things used to be simpler… or so he liked to think.

He would get up when the smell of pancakes reached his nose. With some effort, he grabbed his cane and went downstairs to meet his beloved sister/wife.

“Do you think they’ll bury us together?” Ashley asked as she heard Andrew sit down at the table.

Andrew, who had traded cigarettes for a pipe, was cleaning his faithful companion of the past few years. After a lifetime with his small, spoiled, capricious, and mean-spirited nightmare of a wife, there was little left that could surprise him —yet she somehow kept finding ways to do so.

“I think so…” he replied after a moment, opening a small tin of loose SlowSuicide tobacco. He packed a bit into his pipe and lit it. “They could cremate us and put our ashes in an urn,” he added, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

“I wouldn’t like to be cremated,” Ashley said, setting a stack of pancakes in front of him. “I want our bodies to be buried and become fertilizer —so that something dark and wicked can sprout from the earth.”

Andrew chuckled.
“What would you like to grow over our eternal resting place?” he asked, setting down his pipe and pouring a generous drizzle of honey over his tower of pancakes.

Ashley smiled.
“Something big and full of thorns. Maybe a giant man-eating vine…”

Andrew rolled his eyes. No matter how many decades passed, she was still the same girl with a wild imagination.
“How about a rose bush?” he suggested. “They’re beautiful and full of thorns. And I think they’d actually let us have one over the grave,” he added, taking a sip of coffee.

Ashley closed her eyes, breathing in the sweet scent of the tobacco her husband/brother was smoking.
“I don’t want a cemetery… I’d rather be buried in a forest, under the shade of a great tree. We’ve had enough coffins in our lives —I’d like something freer,” she said wistfully, taking his hand.

Andrew thought about it… It was illegal to leave a body in the woods, but… at this point in life, did he really care?
No, not really. Though they’d have to convince their children to leave them out in the middle of nowhere, where wild animals might devour them and they’d become part of the ecosystem. Or maybe some hikers would find them, and their children would get in trouble.

“We’d have to talk to the kids, see what they think,” Andrew said, taking another puff from his pipe.

Ashley smiled and began eating her own stack of pancakes.

Chapter Text

The walk home was quiet. It had been another monotonous and boring day at the university. Her father and mother had left two days ago, leaving enough money for her and Andrew to get by for the week.

"Damn it, I don't know why I have to give you money," Douglas said with disgust and his typical look of frustration and annoyance, as he handed her a few dollars. "You're adults now. You and that lazy, useless brother of yours should get out already." He added the last part while throwing a hard look at Andrew, who was watching TV.

In response, Andrew gave him the middle finger, which only annoyed Douglas more.
"You disrespectful little shit!" he shouted, but stopped when Renee took him by the arm, calming him down. He sighed and continued talking to his daughter: "We'll be back in a week." He finished speaking before leaving with his mother, Renee, who gave her one last strange look.

They waited three minutes, then five, then seven. Then, Andrew grabbed her by the arm and pinned her against the wall of their small living room. In response, Ashley raised her hand and slapped him hard, making him step back, annoyed.

"I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but I thought I made it clear you weren't to touch me again," Ashley warned, but when she tried to leave, Andrew quickly trapped her against the wall.

"You choose, Leyley. We can do this the hard way," he added, sliding his leg between hers and pressing right on that spot that made her moan involuntarily. "Or the easy way. In that case, I'll be gentle and make you writhe in pleasure like last time," he said with a smile, giving her a small bite on the neck.

Ashley said nothing… at first. He could rape her if he wanted… but she cursed herself, cursed deeply the desire to feel him inside her again. Faced with her silence, Andrew took the button of her pants and unfastened them.

"I gave you… a choice, Leyley," he said as he pulled them down, along with her underwear, and threw her onto the sofa. Andrew did exactly the same with his own pants. He spat into his hand, lubricating his member. Ashley turned to look at him, trying to project all the hatred she possibly could towards him.

"Don't look at me like that, you little bitch. You want this as much as I do, or more," he aligned himself as he said that and entered her violently.

He hated that Julio had stolen her first time, her first kiss, her first everything… That, and more, was why she had to suffer. Leyley had to be punished for breaking their oath… even if he had broken it too. But that didn't matter. It didn't matter now, because he was going to do a multitude of things to her, he would do all sorts of things to her body and give free rein to the libido he had kept locked inside for so long.

…

Hours later, Ashley got up from her place on the bed. Andrew had an arm possessively around her, snoring peacefully as if he hadn't abused her for hours. Her back and lower region hurt; the bruises, bites, and scratches marked her body. She carefully separated herself from him so as not to wake him; she didn't want to deal with him anymore. She put on one of his shirts that was lying on the floor and left the room.

From the kitchen countertop, she took a knife. She hated, hated, hated deeply what she was… but she couldn't. He had sacrificed himself for her. He had always been there, had always put her first. And she loved him, more than a sister should love her brother, and she hated to admit it, even in her mind. She hated what she was, but it was the truth. She hated how much she needed him, how much she liked him, how much she loved him.

She noticed for a moment that the television was still on. It was on the news channel; they were talking about something with the water, but she didn't care. She put the knife back where she had taken it from and returned to the room to lie down next to him. She would allow herself (at least for this time) to be loved by his twisted affection.

Chapter Text

It was late, very late at night. Julia had stayed a little after closing time at her job, saving some extra money to buy a new cell phone. She was heading to the parking lot, to her small used car. Adulthood was difficult, but she had learned to cope. Suddenly, in the middle of the darkness, a mysterious shadow loomed over her. But before Julia could react or say anything, she was hit with something hard and fast on the head, knocking her out immediately.

She slowly began to wake up. Her head hurt and she couldn't move. She didn't know where she was. It took her a moment to realize what had happened... and then she suddenly knew: Ashley. The last time she had seen her, or rather, heard of her, was during the "quarantine" and then that mysterious fire that wiped everything out.

"Shit," she thought, struggling against the bindings on her hands and feet, which was why she couldn't move. She was in the trunk of a car and could feel they were moving, besides hearing music playing at high volume. She didn't know where they were headed, how long she had been unconscious, or how long she had been in the car. But, remembering Ashley and what she was like, she couldn't help but feel panic. The idea that she might not get out of this terrified her. She immediately panicked, though she tried to calm down, feeling tears beginning to form in her eyes.

Suddenly, the car stopped abruptly, and so did the music. A few seconds passed until, finally, the trunk door opened, and there she saw her: those large magenta eyes, which to Julia were nothing more than a disturbing abyss of madness.

"Hello, Julia," said Ashley with a big smile. "It's been some time since we last saw each other..." she added, lowering her voice a bit more.

Ashley soon grabbed her and unceremoniously threw her to the ground, making Julia groan and writhe in pain.

"Sorry, Julia. It's just that I'm not as strong as Andy," she said, letting out a malicious laugh.

Julia writhed on the ground; the blow had knocked the wind out of her. "Shit, shit, shit," she thought desperately, trying to escape her bonds.

She could remember the threats, the harassment, the constant stalking she suffered from Ashley just for dating her brother, Andrew. So many times she had been warned not to get involved with the Graves, that they would only bring her trouble. Jane, her friends, her parents... everyone said there was something wrong, and she had wanted to see beyond it.

"Julia... I can still remember when you started dating Andrew," Ashley added, sitting down next to her on the ground.

She let the silence grow between them, so she could contemplate the dark and polluted city sky that had hurt her so much in her youth.

"You stole him from me... for a while," she said suddenly, breaking the silence and getting Julia's attention. "Not just that... you stole many other things from me... his attention, his prom... his nights, his first time..." she said the last part with obvious contained anger, getting up from the ground again to go to the car and take out a survival knife. It wasn't the butcher's blade they had used in the past, but a special one, used for gutting and skinning animals.

"So, I'm here to steal something from you too and call it even."

Then, mercilessly, she proceeded to make a long cut on her back, earning a new series of moans and whimpers from Julia. Ashley proceeded to soak a cloth with her blood and began creating the pentagrams and runes. Finally, she took out the candles, placed them in order, and lit them.

Once completed, Ashley took one last look at Julia: "This fat, suicidal bitch." She took out her "trinket," which was now a necklace. The atmosphere began to change and soon the Entity manifested itself before the two of them. Julia completely ignored the pain from the cut on her back and now writhed frantically in a vain attempt to escape the creature in front of her.

"Soul of Tar... it's good to see you again. It's been some time," said the demon, which was now larger. They had used the "Trinket" for a long time on their journey, until they could finally settle in one place.

"I know, 'Three-Eyes'. Sorry, but here is a young soul from this woman," she said, pointing at Julia, whose last sight was the abyssal eyes of Ashley and her twisted smile.

With the empty shell of what was Julia, Ashley went back to the rear seat of the rented car and pulled out a handsaw and an axe. Julia's body would be a lot of work, especially being alone, but she was more than happy to finally get this thorn out of her side.

...

Andrew was at his job in Mr. Wilhelmina's antique shop. He heard on the news about the disappearance of a girl in his old city, but before he could hear more, he quickly changed the channel. He was tired of the sad, obscene, and morbid news all day, and above all, he didn't want to hear anything about that city. It had been one stupid thing after another, and he wasn't in the mood for more pessimistic news, especially from that shitty place.

Then the shop phone rang.

"Wilhelmina's Shop, how can we help you?" Andrew said as he answered.

"My beloved Andy, I'm on my way back," replied Ashley, stopped at a rest stop.

"First, I've told you a million times not to call me that; and second, is the meeting over?" he asked, remembering that Ashley had told him there was a witches' meeting and she wanted to go to get some grimoire or spell.

"You were right, it was just a damn scam about investing a small amount of money," Ashley replied, finishing her ToxiSoda drink and throwing it into a bag.

Ashley had taken two small detours on her way back home: a river that seemed deep, where she dropped two large black bags and only left after she saw both bags disappear into the darkness of the river; the other was on a stretch of road, where she left the clothes she had worn that night, the axe and the saw, which she had cleaned very well, and proceeded to burn them and then bury them.

"I told you it was a scam, dammit, Ashley. Well, at least you didn't buy anything," Andrew added with a smile.

Ashley smiled too.

Chapter Text

Ashley wasn’t strong; she was small and light. She knew it, which is why she preferred firearms. Although it was hard at first to learn how to use them, she mastered them and, over time, built a small collection she loved. She missed the guard’s revolver—it had been the first gun she owned, the first she’d used. She still remembered the fight with Andrew when he decided to throw it into the lake along with her butcher’s knife.

“Andrew, you son of a bitch! Don’t you dare!” she shouted as she watched him put the pistol and the knife into a bag.

“Ashley, for the last time, we can’t keep carrying these. That encounter with that cop on the road was too dangerous,” Andrew answered, moving to the edge of the bridge to toss the bag with the weapons.

“I’ll hide it properly. You don’t have to do this!” Ashley shouted again, but she could only watch as Andrew threw the bag and it sank into the dark depths of the lake.

“It’s not fair,” she said, melancholy in her voice as she stared at the spot where her precious revolver had disappeared. Andrew lit a cigarette and they stood a while, watching the black water.

She didn’t want to give up her “tools” of defense, but carrying them felt like tempting fate. Cops, guards—everything made her paranoid. More than once she’d gripped the handle of her butcher’s knife, nearly lunging at someone. She knew that keeping them meant sooner or later someone would get attacked.

They traveled in silence. Ashley was angry; she didn’t want to part with her firearm, and neither did Andrew. But it was wiser not to carry them while they moved across the country. When they stopped for gas, irony struck: two guys on a motorcycle pulled up and tried to rob them.

“Don’t move! Hand over your wallet and anything valuable!” one shouted, drawing a knife.

The other stayed on the bike, but they didn’t notice Andrew wasn’t alone. Ashley saw everything. She feared for her brother’s safety, but if he hadn’t been stupid enough to throw their guns in a lake, they wouldn’t be in this mess. Without warning she floored the accelerator and ran over the man on the bike. When the other saw his companion fly off, he panicked and ran into the woods behind the gas station, discarding the knife as he fled.

Andrew grabbed the knife quickly. The gas station owner rushed out with a shotgun in hand. He looked at Andrew, at Ashley, and then at the man on the ground.

“Get out of here! I’ll take care of these rats,” he said.

They left the gas money and drove off without looking back.

“Why did he just let us go like that?” Ashley asked, watching the station recede.

Andrew’s heart hammered. He tried to light a cigarette but failed; with a grunt of frustration he tossed it into the cup holder.

“Maybe the owner didn’t have all his permits in order and didn’t want the cops asking questions,” Andrew suggested.

Ashley grabbed the cigarette and lighter, put the butt in her mouth, and lit it. Andrew took a drag and exhaled a plume of smoke.

“Well… if I’d had my gun we could have handled them better,” she said, annoyed.

“If you’d had your gun, we’d have had bigger problems. I know you would’ve shot the thieves—and maybe the attendant too,” Andrew shot back, irritated, while turning on the radio to check whether anyone had called the police.

Suddenly Ashley shouted, “Hey, why the hell do you have that?” pointing at the hunting knife in Andrew’s lap.

“I panicked and I didn’t want to leave it there,” he replied, looking at the knife that, for some reason, made him feel safer.

“It’s not fair—I want a pistol!” Ashley exclaimed, furious.

Andrew rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, but he couldn’t deny that a firearm would make her feel safer too.

Chapter Text

The plan was to reach the beach—to draw a clear line between themselves, their city, their friends (at least Andrew’s), Julia, and above all, their crimes, cults, and the police.
That was the plan… but reluctantly, Andrew had learned that his plans never turned out the way he wanted. And once again, he couldn’t entirely blame Ashley, since he often benefited from it too.

When they hit the road, with the long highway ahead and limited funds, they had to save every bit they could. Andrew explained this clearly and simply so Ashley would understand—but one thing led to another, much to his growing frustration.

The first madness struck when the “cleaner’s” car finally broke down. A kind elderly couple stopped to help, and Ashley quickly sent them to the other side. Andrew was furious at first, but at least they had a new vehicle—and with a few fixes, it was theirs now.

The next act of madness came when a store clerk recognized them, and Andrew had to “take care” of him.

While the store burned, Andrew swore to himself that it would be the last time… until they ran out of money again.

He had faith they could sell a few things, but the little money they earned all went into fuel. So when they stumbled upon that rich guy heading off for a weekend of fishing, with his fancy car, his wallet full of credit cards, and that wad of cash he bragged about…

Their journey toward the sea continued, leaving a trail of death behind them. They kept using the amulet, which eventually needed to be recharged. They agreed to use it on vagrants, bikers, and gang members. They rarely killed directly—maybe one or two—but usually left them behind as victims of some strange illness.

One day, they stopped in front of an old abandoned church. Andrew and Ashley got out—not for anything special, not to get married—just to rest.

The cross, half-collapsed and eaten away by moisture and termites, greeted them. He lit a cigarette and blew a puff of smoke toward the ceiling, full of holes that revealed the vastness of the night sky.

He watched Ashley set fire to a Bible in one corner, throwing in scraps of wood and fabric to feed the small flame. At another time, that would have angered him—but now… he couldn’t care less. His only plan was to reach the ocean, to put as much distance as possible between them and everyone who knew them, between them and their crimes.

He felt the heat as the flames slowly grew. With frustration, he crushed the cigarette on the sole of his shoe, pocketed the butt, and walked out of the building, now slowly being devoured by fire.

What surprised him most was how little he cared anymore… about anything at all.

Maybe madness had consumed him.

No—he’d always been insane. He was just finally accepting it.

Just as he had accepted the love he felt for his sister.

—“Andrew, what the hell is wrong with you?! Let’s get out of here!”—Ashley shouted, pulling him by the arm.

Andrew turned, grabbed her by the face, and kissed her—his tongue slipping into her mouth.

They climbed into their RV and drove off, leaving behind the old building, now completely engulfed in flames.

Chapter Text

Andrew and Ashley made the trip without really knowing why. They had a plan—they had to follow it—but when they saw the news that their parents’ neighbors were holding a funeral to honor the memory of the missing Mr. and Mrs. Graves, they couldn’t resist going.

They looked at the gravestone with disgust. It was unbelievable that the neighbors had built a memorial for the “missing” Graves couple. Andrew spat on the gravestone in disgust before taking a cigarette from his pack and lighting it. Ashley did the same, but kept her arms crossed over her chest.

—It’s unbelievable that those stupid neighbors did this for them, —Ashley said bitterly, staring at the monument.— They barely knew them—just a few months—and that was enough for them to waste money on this stupid monument. And for us… nothing.

Andrew blew out a puff of smoke.

—You know, Mom…

But Ashley quickly interrupted him.

—You don’t mean the bitch, do you?

Andrew took another drag from his cigarette, trying to calm down, and went on:

—The bitch always wanted everyone to like her. You know—parties, barbecues, and all that crap we couldn’t do in our little dump.

He then tossed the cigarette butt onto the grave and crushed it with his foot, a clear sign of disrespect.

—Yeah, you must’ve been happy, huh? —Andrew sneered at the gravestone.— I bet after you sold us off, you cried tears of joy! Finally, your damn dream, that stupid dream you could never reach because you were just a slut with easy legs!

His voice rose with uncontrollable rage, startling Ashley.

Andrew had found out about the “disappearance” of Mr. and Mrs. Graves one night while watching the news. Their neighbors had reported them missing a week after they left. A month later, the search was called off. Though traces of blood were found, there was nothing else to go on. It was theorized to be a robbery gone wrong, but there were no leads. A few suspects were mentioned, but none of the neighbors could give a proper description—just that it was a man and a woman.

That news had made Andrew paranoid for a while, but eventually, things went back to “normal.”

Until curiosity—the same itch that always got him into trouble—started to creep back in. Andrew began to investigate. Sometimes he would pass by the house his parents had bought with their life insurance; it was now abandoned, wrapped in police tape. On the door, there were flowers, candles, and envelopes—little dedications.

“Idiots,” he thought as he looked at them. If only they knew where those came from, and not the elaborate lie Renee must’ve told and Douglas had confirmed… it made his blood boil.

For a moment, Andrew reached for another cigarette, but then anger consumed him. He tried to stay calm, but the more he thought about everything they’d done, all the harm they caused, the more furious he became. The last straw was this—that there were still people who believed they were good people.

Then Andrew grabbed the pregnancy test from Ashley’s bag and threw it onto the grave.

—You know what, dear Mom and Dad?! I’m fulfilling my dream too! I’m going to build a real family with Ashley! We’re going to have lots of kids! I’ll be a better father than the sorry excuse for a man you ever were, old bastard! And she’ll be the best mother in the world—not the filthy, whoring pig you were!

Bitter tears fell from Andrew’s eyes. Ashley instinctively wrapped her arms around him. She knew he carried so much inside until it overflowed. They held each other tightly; Andrew sobbed loudly, and Ashley did too, just holding him close.

They stayed like that for a while. When they finally calmed down, Andrew’s eyes were red. Ashley gently wiped the last tears from his face with her sleeves. They stood in silence for a few more moments before leaving the place.

The next morning, when another couple arrived to leave their condolences, they were met with a strange sight: a cigarette butt and a positive pregnancy test resting atop the grave of the couple who had once been their neighbors.

Chapter Text

Ashley and Andrew sat on opposite ends of the couch, both stubbornly ignoring each other. Neither wanted to give in—not after what had happened earlier that day.

It all started when they stopped at a small store to buy a few things. The cashier blushed the moment she saw them walk in, and Ashley noticed right away — that shameless woman had set her eyes on her man.

While they picked out things for dinner, the cashier’s gaze kept following Andrew. When they finally went to pay, the woman spoke directly to him.

“Good afternoon. Did you find everything you needed?” she asked with a sweet little smile aimed only at Andrew.

Ashley clenched her teeth in irritation. How dare that hussy?

“Yes, we found everything, thank you,” Andrew replied, returning the smile.

To him, it was harmless — just small talk with a friendly employee, who he had to admit was rather cute. But it took him barely two minutes to realize that what seemed like a normal exchange could —and did— get horribly misinterpreted by Ashley. She was still learning to handle normal human interactions, but she didn’t quite understand the boundaries of certain conversations yet.

By the time he noticed, it was already too late. One glance at her face told him she was angry — and knowing full well she was about to throw a fit, Andrew, in a moment of pure stupidity, decided to flirt back with the cashier.

What followed was a short exchange of smiles and compliments that made Ashley’s blood boil. Without saying a word, she stormed out of the store, leaving Andrew alone with his “prostitute,” as she bitterly called her in her mind. She’d deal with that woman later, but first, she had to teach her dear boyfriend —and older brother— a lesson.

She marched toward the car, furious, about to scream, but stopped when she saw a man sitting on the hood, smoking. She stared at him for a moment, and an idea crossed her mind. If Andrew could play that game, then so could she.

Andrew came out a few minutes later with the bags, already bracing himself for the argument he knew was coming. But then he saw her — leaning into the car window, laughing at something the stranger had said. Something inside him snapped. He quickened his pace, his steps loud enough to draw their attention.

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” Andrew said sharply, getting into the car, tossing the bags into the back seat, and slamming the door shut.

The man stepped back, raising his hands.

“Oh, sorry, man. Didn’t know the lady had a boyfriend.”

“Don’t worry,” Ashley replied smoothly. “He’s my brother.”

The guy smirked, lowering his sunglasses.

“Really? So that means you’re single, right?”

Andrew started the engine and sped off, leaving the man behind. His knuckles turned white on the steering wheel as he held himself back from shouting. How dare she call him her brother? And flirt with that jerk on top of it?

He eased up on the gas when he realized he was driving over the speed limit.

Now, back on the couch, the tension between them was still thick enough to choke on. The grocery bags remained by the door, untouched. Both sat there, just one word away from lunging at each other — whether to fight or something else was anyone’s guess.

“You’re such an asshole,” Ashley spat.

“And you’re a bitch,” Andrew growled back.

The silence that followed was heavy and suffocating — as if the entire room was holding its breath.

Chapter Text

"—Ashley, are you sure about this?" Andrew asked as he finished drawing the pentagram.

"Yes, the grimoire says it clearly: draw the pentagram during the third full moon of the year, that way we can contact her and ask for her favor," Ashley replied, reading from the book —not mentioning that the version she held was her own translation.

The ritual, in theory, was simple.

They needed five sacrifices: done.

They captured a family that had gone camping in the forest —their usual hunting ground: done.

The next step was to bring them up the hill. Andrew had to put in a lot of effort; carrying the two men was hard work, while the woman and her children were relatively easy, though Ashley kept insisting he was touching her too much.

The police were another problem. While they were parked on the side of the road, a patrol car pulled up. The officer asked if they were okay or needed help. For a moment, Andrew considered killing him, but Ashley’s quick acting skills saved them —the officer laughed, told them a story about his wife, and left.

Then came the real preparation: marking the runes with chalk, drawing the strange symbols Ashley had copied, and finally waiting until midnight.

Damn it, Andrew thought. I have to work tomorrow, and now he’d be sleep-deprived again because of one of Ashley’s stupid adventures. But he understood her fear; he was just as nervous himself.

When the time came, they got ready.

Ashley took the grimoire —with the translation page tucked inside— and began to recite the spell, calling and invoking the creature that was supposed to bless them under the moonlight.

And then… nothing.

She recited the words again. Nothing. She flipped through the book, muttered the incantation a third time… still nothing.

Desperation crept in as she turned the pages faster. Andrew sighed, snatched the grimoire from her hands, and frowned as he read it.

The text was in German. And with his limited knowledge of the language, he managed to understand that the ritual was meant to be performed during a change of season, inside a temple.

Andrew clenched his jaw. Everything they had gone through —capturing the family, hauling them up here, dodging the police, staying up all night— all for nothing.
He exhaled sharply. Too tired to argue, he closed the book and tossed it into the fire.

Ashley screamed, but went silent when she saw the fury in his eyes.

"Call the ‘Entity,’" Andrew ordered, pointing at the terrified captives. "Tell it to send us straight home… in exchange for their souls."

"But… we could ask it to protect the baby," Ashley said softly, pulling out the trinket that now hung around her neck on a makeshift chain.

"We’re not bringing demons near our child," Andrew replied firmly, his tone drawing everyone’s attention.

"Listen, Ash… I know you’re scared for him."

He gently placed his hands over Ashley’s small but growing belly.

"But have faith. Nothing bad will happen. He’ll be born healthy and strong."

Ashley smiled at his words.

"You’re the best husband-brother I could ever ask for," she whispered before leaning in to kiss him. Andrew returned the kiss without hesitation.

A muffled whimper broke the moment.

They pulled apart and turned toward the five captives —their faces frozen in disbelief and horror.

"Seriously?" Andrew said, raising an eyebrow. "You’re shocked that we’re siblings… but not by the fact that you’re about to be sacrificed?"

Chapter Text

"Life in the wild is very hard even for the best-adapted wild rabbits, and they usually live very briefly: just long enough to reproduce a few times. The vast majority of wild rabbits die before reaching adulthood due to predators, diseases, or parasites. This is why rabbits are very prolific."
Source: https://www.madrigueraweb.org/

The green rabbit dug the burrow under the large stump meticulously, he dug and dug, until he made a deep hole in the earth. It took him another three days to widen the hole. Satisfied with his work, the little rabbit proceeded to gather leaves, fur from larger animals, and wild cotton to arrange the small nest.

Then, the little green rabbit returned to the warren. There he witnessed the other rabbits jumping and eating flowers. His parents—the superior rabbits, one dark green and the other purple—were together, warming themselves with a stone in the sun. The yellow doe was jumping along with the purple doe, getting lost in the grass. The little green rabbit moved among the others, receiving disapproving looks. He advanced through them until he reached the little doe he was looking for, sitting in the shade of a tree, eating a few blackberries.

Once in front of her, the little green rabbit began his dance, which automatically caught the little doe's attention. As the little green rabbit danced, the pink doe responded with the same dance. Soon they began the ritual chase: the pink doe moved away from the warren, being playfully pursued far from the watchful eyes of the group, away from the yellow doe, away from the purple doe... away from everyone. Unknowingly, the pink doe was guided by the little green rabbit right to that place where he had built the burrow. They stood in front of the hole before the little green rabbit approached and semi-sprayed her with his urine, which annoyed the pink doe, even though she knew it was part of the ritual.

They both entered. The hole had been dug meticulously and the nest was arranged in such a way as to receive them. The pink doe settled on the ground and felt the little green rabbit on top of her; holding her with his front paws, he kept her in place. The green rabbit moved with agility and, with rapid movements of his hips, copulated with her: the right doe, the one meant to bear his progeny.

After a few moments, the little green rabbit freed himself, having ensured she was impregnated. He collapsed beside her, tired. They groomed each other before falling exhausted into a deep sleep.

A few weeks later, the first litter of bunnies was born. A mix of green and pink colors clung to the pink doe's teats, seeking nourishment, while the little green rabbit went out to search for food.

Chapter Text

Andrew collapsed beside Ashley.

The wound on his side was serious. He didn’t want to admit it… he wouldn’t —not out loud— but he knew this was the end.

Their wave of crimes and sins had finally caught up to them.

They had run through the forest, leaning on each other —though Andrew leaned more on Ashley— until they found an abandoned cabin deep in the woods. That’s where they took refuge.

Ashley, unlike Andrew, only had a wound on her left arm. It wasn’t from a bullet; it was simply that the police had grown tired of their so-called “peaceful negotiations” and decided there would be no prisoners this time.

The checkpoint had taken them by surprise, leaving them no time to use the amulet. They barely managed to escape as the officers opened fire. Andrew was shot in the side, Ashley in the shoulder.

They ran through the dark forest, hearing the shouts and barking dogs closing in. Shit… Andrew thought. They even brought dogs.

He had always known this would happen sooner or later, but still, it surprised him. Ashley clung to him in desperation. They both knew this time, there would be no escape.

“Andrew, what are we gonna do?! The amulet’s still in the car!” Ashley screamed, clutching her gun and peering out the window.

Andrew sighed. He had always told her to be more careful, to keep her things in order.

But somehow, the thought brought him a strange peace.

He was tired —of running, of hiding, of living off robberies and murder. He couldn’t even remember how long it had been since it all began.

Maybe this was a good ending after all.

He walked over to Ashley, took her hand, and gently pulled the gun from her grip.

“What are you doing?” she asked, trying to take it back.

“Listen, Ashley… I can’t move anymore. But if you can distract them for a few seconds, I might take down two—maybe three—if I’m lucky. You’re faster than me.”

Ashley nodded. If this was the plan, they’d get through it together, like always. She stood, ready to run. Then she heard a click. And after that… darkness.

Andrew felt a sharp pain in his chest. He knew it was the right thing to do. This was the end of everything. He walked toward Ashley’s body —the world eerily silent now.

Damn it, he thought, I hate seeing her like this.

Her eyes were frozen in confusion, her head shattered by the bullet. But at least she hadn’t suffered. At least she hadn’t felt fear at the end.

He cradled her in his arms and kissed her lips —a deep, lingering kiss, still warm with life. The pain in his chest faded. Soon, he would be with her again.

No fear, no running, no more hiding.

Nothing but the two of them.

“Over here! The shot came from this way! We’ve got them!” The voices and the barking grew louder, closer.

Andrew smiled.

He raised the gun beneath his chin, took a deep breath… and pulled the trigger.

The next morning, the news reported the suicide of the ‘cannibal couple,’ marking the end of their bloody rampage.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Andrew and Ashley’s journey, running from their crimes and from those who wanted them dead, was expensive—very expensive. Gasoline, food, clothes, fake IDs in every city, medicine… damn, whatever money they managed to get disappeared fast.

At least at the beginning, theft became their main source of income. They would sneak into houses and take small valuables: appliances like TVs, toasters, blenders, clothes, money if there was any, and the occasional piece of jewelry.

Then they’d sell everything at pawn shops where no one asked too many questions.

Over time, they also started collecting small personal items—things they couldn’t afford back when they lived in that cramped apartment. But now… now they could.

Andrew had gathered a small library of Edgar Allan Poe, H.P. Lovecraft, and Shirley Jackson, sometimes even special editions, which he read every night before bed.

Ashley, on the other hand, had a pink Discman still marked with its previous owner’s name, and a proud collection of CDs: My Chemical Romance, Evanescence, and Paramore—though Andrew preferred Linkin Park and Green Day.

Their path, as always, led them to another robbery. Andrew had noticed a lovely two-story house, slightly away from the neighborhood—isolated, silent… an open invitation.

Under the cover of night, from a safe distance, they decided to break in. Thanks to their experience, they knew how to check the windows—there was always one left open. And sure enough, Ashley slipped inside and unlocked the front door for Andrew.

They grabbed the usual: things they could sell to keep traveling. But when Ashley went upstairs, hoping to find something valuable, she stumbled upon something unexpected—the biggest ToxiSoda collection imaginable. Limited-edition cans, promotional items, flyers, banners, T-shirts… it was insane.

Andrew was ready to leave, but Ashley hadn’t come back down. When he went looking for her, he found every room untouched—except one. There she was, sitting on the floor, completely absorbed, surrounded by mountains of ToxiSoda memorabilia.

She was wearing a black festival T-shirt—apparently from an event where ToxiSoda had been a main sponsor. The whole room gave Andrew the creeps. It was… strange. And the fact he thought that said a lot.

—Ash… we have to go —he said, trying to get her attention.

Ashley lifted her gaze from a Japanese soda can she’d been reading. God knows how long she’d been at it.

—Oh, sorry. It’s just… this is incredible —she said, still amazed.

Andrew knew that look immediately. That spark in her eyes, that childlike wonder. And before she could even say anything, he cut her off: —No, Ashley. We’re not taking any of this. The car’s packed already, and it’s not exactly smart to try selling a can of ToxiSoda flavored… Stuffed Turkey!

Ashley pouted. Andrew sighed, glanced around the room, and picked up a “book”—a collector’s guide. It was old, but a good place to start.

He also grabbed two cans: one pink, melon-flavored, and one green, jalapeño-flavored.

Back in the car, with their small haul and the crime scene far behind them, Ashley flipped through the book with genuine fascination. The two cans rested in her lap as she read aloud: —Listen to this! “The Jalapeño Edition was released in Mexico to celebrate International Jalapeño Day, but it was discontinued because it caused stomach ulcers.”

She kept reading, sharing curious facts with Andrew—without realizing that, at that very moment, her obsession with ToxiSoda had just begun.

Chapter Text

Ashley drove slowly, just as Andrew had taught her during their small driving lessons. She moved carefully along the road while he slept, insisting that learning to drive would be useful for her future.

Future...

Her gaze drifted from the road to the starry sky. “Future…” The word sounded complicated to her. She didn’t like making plans, because plans meant hope. Maybe she acted indifferent toward Andrew, but deep down, the idea scared her. In a way, she was grateful for the quarantine; she never would have imagined herself in this situation—traveling across the country, just her and Andrew, as it should be, living one adventure after another.

Well… if you could call adventures nearly starving to death, having a hitman sent after them, killing people, and having their souls tied up in some strange deal with one or two demons. But, hell, who could blame them? They were young adults, broke, half-starved, with no friends or family to turn to, and a giant corporation breathing down their necks. Still, she couldn’t really complain.

Ashley drove into a tunnel. She didn’t like tunnels, but she couldn’t go too fast—Andrew had been clear: minimum 20 km, maximum 40 km. She kept a steady speed, and in the darkness of the tunnel, she allowed herself, just for a moment, to think about the future that awaited them.

Andrew’s plan was simple: put as much distance as possible between them and their hometown. That’s why, at first, they dedicated themselves to robbing houses, gathering and saving as much money as they could to fund their escape. They sold the “Cleaner’s” car at a junkyard and bought a second-hand van—simpler and, technically, cleaner.

Then they started a different kind of theft—things that were harder to trace. Andrew knew that if they stole jewelry, it could be tracked easily, so he preferred small, valuable items that sold fast: appliances, clothes, sneakers, video games, books, CDs, and food. That way, they could keep moving without having to stop at supermarkets or stores.

With their new van full of goods and a reasonable amount of cash, they passed as a couple moving to start a new life. That was the story Andrew and Ashley told anyone who asked—especially the police officers who stopped them. They were “Mr. and Mrs. Doe,” moving north to begin again.

Once they had put a safe distance between themselves and their past, they would find a place to settle down, to truly start over.
It was then that Ashley wondered if starting over included her.
Yes, sometimes they slept together… and other times she would ride him until he was out of breath—but what did that mean? Were they lovers? Siblings? Father and daughter? Just… something else?

As she exited the tunnel, she was greeted by a vast, starry sky—the kind you could never see under the polluted skies of the city. The stars watched her like hundreds of shining eyes, and she took it as a sign that, no matter what the future held, she and Andrew would remain together—like constellations frozen in time.

Andrew woke up when the car stopped moving.
—“What’s wrong, Ashley?”—he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

His voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She hadn’t realized she had come to a complete stop.
—“Oh, nothing… my leg just fell asleep,”—she said with a small smile.

Andrew stretched in his seat, reached over, and gently rubbed her thigh, trying to wake it up. She smiled at the gesture, warmly.
—“Do you want me to drive now?”—he asked.

Ashley shook her head.
—“It’s fine. Just a little cramp. You rest, my dear Andrew.”

He settled back into his seat and soon fell asleep again. Ashley looked up at the sky one last time before driving off. For the first time in a long while, the future didn’t seem so bad.

Chapter Text

“The Asian legend says there exists an invisible red thread, tied by the gods to the pinky finger or ankle of two people, binding them by destiny for life, regardless of time, place, or circumstances. This thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break—symbolizing the special connection and shared fate between two souls.”

The journey to this point had been… long, to say the least. Andrew had asked one of the few friends that Ashley tolerated to watch over their two children while they made this small trip.

Andrew knew the legend—of course he did. He had read about it while trying to fix his hair to look presentable. From his bag, he took out a small spool of red thread he had gotten just for this moment. With a sigh, he stepped out of the bathroom. The wedding venue wasn’t exactly glamorous—“Express Weddings for $50!”—and the priest looked like he was either recovering from or heading into a hangover.

A secretary at the door made them fill out a short form to make the license valid. Ashley didn’t really understand why they needed that; they could live together freely, no problem. Yes… they already had two kids and were expecting a third. So, why now?

Andrew wore shorts, an open button-up shirt with a blue T-shirt underneath, and sandals. Ashley, on the other hand, wore a long dark green skirt, an Evanescence shirt, a trinket hanging from her necklace, and short brown boots. They looked like a vacationing couple—except now she wore a veil that Andrew had insisted she use for the occasion.

But before walking together, Andrew knelt down and tied one end of the thread around Ashley’s ankle.
“Hey—what are you doing now?” she asked, intrigued.

Andrew just smiled and then asked her to tie the other end around his pinky finger. Ashley, not quite understanding, tied a simple knot and walked toward Father Frank, who looked about ready to faint. His suit was wrinkled and his shirt buttoned wrong.

“Dear… brothers: We are gathered here before this altar…” the priest began, but Ashley interrupted:

“Hey, there’s no one here.”

Ignoring her completely, the priest wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“So that God may bless you with His grace—”

Ashley interrupted again. “We’re atheists.”

Andrew smiled under the veil of his face, losing himself in her large magenta eyes.

This time, the priest took longer to recover.

“Christ… your conjugal love… enriches you today and gives you the strength… to remain mutually and perpetually…” He seemed to lose the words mid-sentence.

“To be faithful and fulfill the duties of marriage,” said Andrew, not taking his eyes off Ashley.

“Therefore, before this assembly—” (which made Ashley roll her eyes) “—I ask about your intentions.”

Andrew cleared his throat.

“I, Andrew Graves, take you, Ashley Graves, as my wife.”

Ashley’s eyes widened like saucers. For years, they had gone by Mr. and Mrs. Doe, but neither the priest nor the secretary seemed to notice, so he continued:

“I give myself to you, and I promise to be faithful to you in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, and to love and respect you all the days of my life.”

Ashley felt a sting of emotion in her chest—she loved when Andrew did that, used big eloquent words to say how much he loved her.

“Your turn,” said Andrew with a smile.

Ashley looked at him, confused, making him shake his head.

“Just repeat after me,” he said, and she nodded.

“I, Ashley Graves, take you, Andrew Graves, as my husband,” she repeated,

“I give myself to you and promise to be faithful in good times and bad, in sickness and in health, and to love and respect you all the days of my life.”

Her voice cracked slightly at the end.

Andrew wiped away a small tear from his eye and continued:

“Ashley, do you want to be my wife?”

Ashley smiled brightly, nodding with joy. “Yes, I do.”

Encouraged by her response, she asked, “Do you want to be my husband?”

Andrew, smiling through his own tears, said, “Yes, I do.”

Andrew cleared his throat, his voice trembling slightly.

“I receive you as my wife, and I promise to love you faithfully all my life.”

Ashley, guided by Andrew, repeated:

“I receive you as my husband, and I promise to love you faithfully all my life.”

The priest barely held back a burp, cleared his throat, and continued:

“May the Lord confirm with His goodness the consent you have expressed before the Church, and grant you His abundant blessing. What God has joined together, let no man separate.”

Then Andrew and Ashley kissed—slowly at first, then deeper. The priest slumped into his chair, overwhelmed by what was clearly a hangover. The secretary clapped sarcastically.

“Congratulations to the couple. Here you go, Mr. and Mrs. Doe,” she said, handing them a piece of cardboard that was their marriage license.

They both ran outside. The red thread didn’t break until they reached the car—when Ashley, full of excitement, snapped it herself.
Andrew sighed and smiled.

“Jane Doe and John Doe,” the marriage certificate read.

But in the eyes of God and the Devil, they would always be Andrew Graves and Ashley Graves.

He got in the car with her, started the engine, and drove off—

toward wherever destiny would take them, together forever.

Chapter Text

There were three kinds of flowers that marked Andrew: the pink lilies, which for him symbolized Ashley; the large yellow sunflowers, which represented Julia; and the red petals of the carnations.

Andrew hated every one of those flowers. They meant something bad… yet, at the same time, something good—no matter how hard that was to admit.

Julia had been his anchor for a time. Clinging to her was his way of escaping, at least for a while, from the guilt of what they had done to Nina. He hated Julia… no, he loved her. No—that wasn’t quite it. The way Andrew saw it, she was like a prostitute who paid him with “love” so he could vent his frustrations, so he wouldn’t throw himself at Ashley and abuse her. That feeling was constant, and at least Julia could quiet it.

Her smile and that radiant, freckled face reminded him of sunflowers—bright and yellow—and that was precisely why Andrew despised them. Every time he saw a pink lily, he wanted to burn it… but he always ended up leaning in to smell them, because they reminded him of Ashley. In his mind, he sometimes imagined a normal life with Julia: a house far away from that rotten city, where he could bury his darkest desires and crimes. He pictured himself coming home from work in a relatively new car, with a stupid mortgage, and beautiful pink lilies growing in the yard—being greeted by Ashley, lovely, glowing, her belly round with their second child.

That thought infuriated him, horrified him, and—above all—he loved it.

When the red petals of carnations came into his life, Andrew felt a piece of his soul tear apart, because now he had to share his Ashley with… that “thing.” She was his—his and no one else’s. No one else should see her, desire her, or touch her. She belonged to him. Only him.

He hated flowers for what they represented. That’s why, on his wedding day—many years later—when he stood at the altar with Ashley, her bouquet held sunflowers, carnations, and lilies. Even though they had settled far from everyone who once knew them, Andrew could still see, in the colors of the petals, two of the greatest ghosts of his past haunting her… and the unopened flower he himself would make bloom.
He stared at the bouquet for a long time and smiled. When Ashley approached, he smiled back: he wanted to hurt her and love her all at once. The bouquet in his hand made him smile—and at the same time, it made him want to scream.

Chapter Text

He could feel her ribs. He could feel her ribs when he ran his hand along her body. He could feel her collarbone when he pressed his lips to it as she slept. When his arms wrapped around her shrunken stomach, he could feel how small she had become—she had folded in on herself.

They needed food. They needed to eat. They couldn’t survive on water alone. They had used and eaten every last thing in the kitchen. They started filling themselves with water until it became dangerous.

One day, as they sat and looked around, Andrew noticed a pigeon perched on their balcony. He grabbed Ashley’s arm and gestured for her to stay still. Both of them fixed their eyes on the bird as it slowly stepped into the room. When it was far enough inside, they ran to the door and slammed it shut. The pigeon was trapped with them—but not for long. With a shoe, Ashley struck it, killing it instantly.

They stared at each other for a moment before turning their gaze back to the lifeless, half-crushed bird.

Remembering an old survival documentary, Andrew was the one who gutted the pigeon. He ripped out its entrails and threw them off the balcony—almost hitting a woman and her child—plucked its feathers, and chopped it into pieces before tossing it into a pot of water.

They both watched their “soup” simmer slowly, drooling in anticipation. That day, their stomachs finally sighed in relief… but soon, hunger returned.

Ashley didn’t know why, even after so many years, the taste of human flesh still lingered on her tongue. The cultist, her parents, and several other victims had left behind a flavor she could never forget.

As they spent the night in a small motel room, Ashley woke up. She left Andrew asleep, walked to the sofa, and sat in the darkness with a cereal bar. She would never tell Andrew that she was always hungry—that her stomach constantly growled for more.

Andrew made sure they ate a balanced diet: vegetables, fruit, grains, pasta, dairy, and above all, meat.

But it was strange… beef, pork, or chicken only worked for a while before the hunger came back. She missed the taste. She wanted to eat flesh again. She wanted human meat…

She found a strange kind of peace—or balance—when she made love to Andrew. When they got “playful” in their games, she would scratch or bite him until he bled, and then lick the wound, tasting his blood. It hurt when Andrew did the same to her, but damn, it was something she needed.

She finished her bar, drank some juice, and went back to bed with Andrew. The movement woke him.

“What’s wrong, Ashley?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his face.

“Nothing,” she said softly. “I just got up for a snack.”

Before lying down again, she gave him a small kiss on his stomach… then another, and another. Andrew tried to grunt, to show annoyance, to push her away—but when Ashley pulled down his pajama pants, she smiled. He felt her mouth kissing, tasting his skin, his length… and then, a sudden sting of pain.

Andrew barely stopped the scream from escaping his throat. He looked down and saw her smiling, a thin thread of blood glistening at the corner of her lips. She lowered her head again, licking where she had bitten him.

Andrew clenched his teeth; the sleep was gone, replaced by the thrilling mix of pain and arousal, as Ashley’s head moved slowly, up and down.

Chapter Text

Both siblings—or rather, lovers now—rested in their small rented hotel room. That night, Andrew hadn’t wanted any “affection”; he was far too tired after seven hours of nonstop driving. One of his paranoid fits had kept him awake the entire way, and his back, after so many nights sleeping in the back seat, now felt like it was turning to dust.

So, when they finally collapsed onto the bed, Andrew practically sank into a deep sleep, while Ashley lay beside him, quietly watching.
She lifted her gaze to study the face of her sleeping “Andy.”

Even though he hated being called that, he would always be her Andy. His head rested heavily on the pillow like a brick; his breathing was calm, slow—inhale and exhale in a rhythm that spoke of a dream free from nightmares.

She had always found it strange that he was the only one haunted by bad dreams. She wondered what he dreamed about… though, really, it wasn’t hard to imagine. Maybe that hussy Nina, or perhaps Julia. She bit her lip and stayed there, silent.

Her mind drifted through everything they had lived so far—everything they had seen, everything they had done. She expected nightmares, strange dreams, something… but there was never anything. It was as if her brain had flipped a switch, refusing to let her remember her dreams.

Andrew, on the other hand, had described his nightmares to her a few times: dark wastelands where there was nothing but emptiness, and before him, the physical manifestations of his greatest regrets and guilt.

Ashley never really understood that.

Although, if she had to admit it—she did have a dream.

No, not just a dream… a world of dreams.

In that dream, they lived in a large two-story house with a front and back garden. There would be a huge swimming pool, and she would have her own witchcraft room, where she would brew potions, craft amulets, and cast spells—then go out to collect souls. Her demon would be like a pet, guarding their home.

Andrew, meanwhile, would have a small study where he could write whatever he pleased. Yes, he would be a famous horror writer, and he’d write a beautiful horror story about two siblings trapped in an old tower who, rather than die of hunger, chose to leap into the void.

Yes… that sounded poetic enough.

If she remembered it, she’d tell Andrew about it.

Chapter Text

The end was near, and with it came a wave of regrets that washed over his final moments.

The black manes, once the most distinctive trait of the Graves clan —or rather, as they had been known in recent years, the Does— had now turned a silvery gray, with small dark strands stubbornly refusing to disappear.

Andrew lay resting, his second grandson asleep on his chest. Ethan had drifted off after crying. Lilith and her husband, Collin, had already arrived. Daniel and David had abandoned all their projects the moment Ashley called them. Abigail was the last to appear. One by one, each had come to say goodbye to the patriarch of the Doe family… or rather, the patriarch of the Graves.

When Lilith took Ethan in her arms, she leaned down and placed a kiss on her father’s forehead. He smiled at her, and she quietly left the room, leaving only her parents behind.
Ashley sat by his side, a faint smile on her lips.

“Do you regret anything… you big idiot, dickhead?” she asked with a teasing smile, wrapping her hand around his while holding her trinket in the other.
Andrew looked at her, smiled, and nodded.

“Yes… one thing,” he replied, closing his eyes. “Taking so long to admit that I love you.”

Ashley smiled and leaned in to kiss him.

“I hope I can find you again,” she whispered, feeling a sharp ache in her chest. This time, it wasn’t a hussy trying to steal him away —it was something she could never kill, dismember, or offer to the Entity.

With gentle patience, Andrew brushed away a tear that slid down her cheek.

“I will… my little nightmare,” he murmured with a sigh. “You must find me… and if you can’t, I’ll find you. Understood?”

Ashley nodded and adjusted her hair. Beneath the bed, she had already prepared the ritual. With a small invocation, she summoned it. The Entity appeared before them.

“It seems your time has come… ‘filthy soul,’” it said with disdain.

“Haha… rot in hell,” Andrew replied with a laugh.

“Are you sure about this?” Ashley asked, combing her hair softly.

Andrew nodded. He knew his soul was destined for hell after all the crimes he had committed in his long life. The best he could do was wait for her in the afterlife… along with that thing.

“Don’t do anything foolish, alright? I’ll be waiting,” Andrew said with a smile.

Ashley smiled back. With her final tears falling, she whispered: “I offer you this soul.”

Andrew’s soul floated toward the Entity before vanishing completely.

His body remained there, a faint smile frozen on his lips. Ashley sighed; tears rolled down her cheeks as, little by little, the body of her beloved husband-brother faded away.

Chapter Text

Andrew woke to the gritty sensation beneath him. It was uncomfortable, irritating… strange.

When he finally opened his eyes, he found himself in a desolate wasteland—nothing but dirt and sand as far as he could see. Strangely, it wasn’t terrifying. Horror was a luxury he no longer possessed. After so many years of murder and pacts with demons, fear was something long forgotten.

Still, this “wasteland” unsettled him in a different way. He began to walk, drawn by a supernatural force toward nothing… or perhaps toward something. He moved slowly, feeling his feet sink into the sand. Walking didn’t tire him, climbing dunes didn’t tire him, and descending them only made him worry about falling.

After a while, Andrew came upon a small oasis. Though he felt no thirst, hunger, or exhaustion, its sight stirred in him an odd need to approach, to examine it. He moved forward with strange determination until the sand hardened beneath his feet and he felt grass.

There were plants, trees, and flowers—but he couldn’t smell them. Everything felt artificial, like plastic. He knelt before the flowers and touched them; up close, they looked unmistakably fake.

Then he heard laughter. He moved closer—and saw her on a swing.

Nina was swinging back and forth, laughing, while a younger Julia pushed her, giggling as well. They both stopped when they saw him.

“Jul, would you mind leaving us alone?” Nina said softly. Julia nodded and vanished into the bushes behind them. Then Nina gestured for Andrew to come closer. He sighed and sat beside her. The sky turned a supernatural shade of violet, but he didn’t care. Somehow, it felt like this wasn’t the first time.

“How’s Ashley?” she asked, catching him off guard.

“She’s… she’s fine,” Andrew answered without looking at her. He didn’t have the courage to meet her eyes—not after everything.

“I’m glad… And how have you been?” she asked again.

“As good as I can be,” he replied.

Andrew felt uneasy. He wanted to scream, to cry, but he held it in. He knew that if he looked into her eyes, he would break. So he stayed there, staring at the ground.

“You know,” Nina said after a pause, “I still visit Ashley sometimes. She’s still the same crazy bitch as ever.” Andrew wanted to stand up and hit her, but he had no right. Deep down, he knew she wasn’t entirely wrong. Sometimes, Ashley really was a deranged bitch.

Silence fell again. Andrew wanted to ask something, but no words came. He tried to summon the courage to speak—but couldn’t.

“Don’t worry, Andrew,” Nina finally said, standing up. “We’ll see each other again tomorrow. Maybe by then, you’ll find the courage to look me in the eyes, you pathetic coward.”
Her words dripped with contempt. He heard her footsteps fade, and when he finally looked up, she was gone—disappeared down the same path Julia had taken.

He stayed there for a moment, motionless. Then he closed his eyes—and when he opened them again, he was in his bedroom. He sat up slowly, making sure Ashley was still sound asleep. The sky outside was tinted pale blue, signaling the coming dawn. He ran a hand over his face… and felt it—tears streaming down his cheeks.

He cursed softly. How much longer would he have to carry that ghost on his conscience?

The same dream had haunted him for years.

But he never found his voice… nor the courage to say anything.