Grooming

“So,” you ask, “why am I still alive?” She’s sitting at the little table outside your cell doing paperwork again. The Liberation has more paperwork than you ever suspected. “We disabled your mech’s countermeasures,” she says, not looking up. “About an hour before you spotted us, in fact.” “That’s not what I meant—WAIT, an hour!? But I spotted you barely an hour into the patrol!” “Yes,” she finally looks at you, smiling, “your command/control system is full of holes, dear.” ...

Originally posted to Twitter on August 13, 2022, and a week earlier on Patreon. content notes: child viewpoint, cults, grooming, gaslighting, vague body horror, self-harm as worship. “Mommy!” You cry as she’s just about to walk out the door, “I want to go worship with you!” Her scarred flesh wrinkles into a smile as she laboriously reaches down to ruffle your hair. “Not until you’re older, dear heart.” “But why? I’m a big girl now!” ...

On the day Abigail found her halo, her mother had sent her up into the attic to pick out some ornaments for their tree (for it was that time of year, with snow outside and candles burning in the window; so unlike our winters now!). She didn’t want to, of course. The attic was dark and cold, and as she climbed the ladder up she felt like she was ascending into a den of monsters. The little flashlight dangling from her wrist hardly illuminated a thing, and her neck itched so very horrible as she poked her head up through the trapdoor— ...

“Just try your best, okay dear? It’s fine if it takes a few tries.” Abigail’s eyes jump between the cleaver Cloth Mother has just wrapped her fingers around and the too-small body spread out on the table. Outside the pool of light, Wire Mother grins and blows smoke into the air. “Don’t waste time, dear.” Wire Mother draws the word out, makes it into an insult as it hisses between its glass-shard teeth. “It needs to die.” ...