109All right! So, welcome to my very first Outlast fanfiction! I was recently introduced to this game, and after playing through both the main story and the Whistleblower DLC, I found myself really enjoying it despite the fact that it was downright scary at times! Red Barrels did a great job creating the atmosphere and the memorable characters, and I love it so much that I wanted to write a story for it! :D
This is my take on what would happen if some OCs ended up in Mount Massive Asylum. This first chapter is mostly just going to introduce them, and then the next chapter should start the events of the game. Events and characters from both the main game and Whistleblower will be included in this story, so hopefully, I'll be able to do the characters justice. I hope you all like this story, and let me know what you think! :D
DISCLAIMER: Only my OCs, plot ideas, and slight changes from the original game are mine. Everything else belongs to Red Barrels. The idea for the main game/Whistleblower timeline that I'll be following in this story belongs to the user "DontWatchMePlay" on Youtube.
WARNING: There will be spoilers from both the main game and Whistleblower throughout this story.
Chapter One: Same Coin, Different Sides
September 18th, 2013-Lake County, Colorado…
All she could think about was whether or not she was going to die.
The silence didn't help, either, her ragged breathing being the only sound that echoed through the pitch black hallway. Her hands shook and began to feel clammy as she patted the walls to her left-her only sense of security in the darkness as she continued to move forward. Not that she was afraid of the dark, but the fact that not even the red emergency lights were on right now made her feel even more on edge. She'd hate to think of what it would be like to bump into something that was in her way.
Or rather, someone.
But she couldn't think about that right now. All she could hope to do was continue to hug the wall, taking very quiet baby steps with her bare feet. She gulped, her heart hammering in her chest, and she prayed that nobody would be able to hear that. She was even more pressed for time than usual and couldn't afford to get herself caught right now. Not with the plan she had thought of at the last minute.
She could do this, she told herself as she took another deep breath. She just had to remember where the exit was and then she'd be all right.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps, making her freeze where she was as she hugged the wall even tighter now, doing her best to stop trembling. She didn't know how well the footsteps' owner could see in the pitch black, and she didn't want to stick around to find out. She knew she had to keep going, otherwise she would be spotted, but it was all a matter of knowing when the best time was.
She held her breath as she heard the other person get closer to where she was standing, her heart nearly stopping as the steps suddenly ceased as well. She prayed that she'd be able to just sneak past without alerting the Variant, for that would definitely put a damper on her master plan. She just had to stay calm and hope for the best, no matter how difficult that might be.
Fortunately, the Variant didn't seem to detect anything odd in the darkness, continuing to move along as his footsteps receded and his low mumbling became more distant. She allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief as she instantly began to move again, turning to the right as a thin sliver of moonlight greeted her from one of the large windows up ahead.
That was the way, she realized. That was the way out of here.
And with that, she took a deep breath, braced herself, and began to run…
Four days earlier-Denver, Colorado-8:00 PM…
Emily Wilkins glanced up from the bar after sticking a piece of lime on the side of the drink she had just finished making. After quickly preparing another delicious looking alcoholic beverage, she picked one up with each hand, smiling as she did her best to make sure she didn't drop them. In all her years of working in this place, she'd only had two incidents, and she wanted to keep it that way.
Nothing was worse than having to make drinks all over again.
Emily skirted her way around a few of the other bartenders as she finally reached her destination, smiling again at the elderly couple who had come to the bar for a quick drink, like they always did every week for the last two years. "All right, here we go," she said, "A Long Island Iced Tea for you, Mr. Johnson." She set the glass down in front of him before turning to his wife.
"And for Mrs. Johnson, a White Peach Sangria," she continued, making the older woman laugh as she placed the second drink on the wooden surface of the bar.
"Wonderful!" she complimented, "See, Larry? I'm always telling them how good she is."
Emily felt a blush creep up on her face, like it always did whenever somebody paid her a compliment. "Thank you, Mrs. Johnson," she said, though she couldn't fight the small smile that was beginning to spread, "I'm just glad I've been continuing to get both your drink orders right."
"Well, when you see the same faces over and over again, that's bound to happen," Mr. Johnson piped up as he happily took a sip of his Long Island Iced Tea.
"Delicious," he reported, "As always."
Emily laughed. "Thank you, Mr. Johnson. Is there anything else I can get either of you?"
"No, we're all right for now," Mrs. Johnson assured her, "We'll see you again when your shift is over."
Emily nodded, smiling once more as she picked up some empty glasses from previous bar patrons and carried them back towards the kitchen. All around her, various bartenders, waiters, waitresses, and customers were making their way around the Cheesecake Factory, and it was a miracle that she was able to maneuver her way around the place without crashing into somebody by now. Nevertheless, she made it to the kitchen without incident, dropping off the empty glasses before returning to the bar in order to attend to other customers.
Every day, it was like this, she noticed as she returned to her assigned post and picked up the tip that was meant for her. This was how it had been for the entire four years she'd worked here: always busy, always dashing from one end of the bar to the other, and always being on her feet.
But Emily wouldn't have it any other way. She made good money working at the Cheesecake Factory, between her paycheck and the tips, and she would continue working there for as long as she needed to. And she loved her job, so that was a plus as well.
Once her shift was over a couple of hours later, Emily sighed and adjusted her braid, smoothing out a few wrinkles in her black shirt as she proceeded to clock out, placing her tips in an empty envelope that she always carried around with her. She was just getting ready to hoist her bag over her shoulder and head back to her car when she spotted Mr. and Mrs. Johnson sitting on a couch close to the exit. Suddenly, she felt a little guilty keeping them waiting like this, and she sighed as she took a seat next to them, blocking out the rest of the sounds coming from the restaurant.
"You guys didn't have to wait for me," she told them as she frowned, "Just in case you had plans or anything tonight."
"We do," Mrs. Johnson said in response, "But we don't mind. Really. Besides, Larry and I have something that we wanted to give you, anyway."
Emily raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but her heart sank a few seconds later as the older woman pulled out an envelope containing one hundred dollars. She knew exactly what the couple intended to do, and she felt another blush creep up her cheeks as she shook her head vehemently. She always told herself that she would never ask anybody for money, and the very rare times she had to were torture for her.
"No, thank you. I couldn't accept that again. You both have done so much for me already."
"Just take it, Emily," Mr. Johnson insisted, "You need it more than we do at this point. Anything to help you achieve your dreams."
"He's right," Mrs. Johnson agreed, "And we don't mind helping you. We know you're always very careful with your money and that you won't just casually throw it away." Emily still looked conflicted as she glanced from the elderly couple to the envelope, and after another minute or two of silent debating, she cautiously reached forward and took it, stuffing it in her bag as she sighed.
"Thank you," she whispered, "Thank you both for everything. If there's a way I can eventually repay you-"
"Don't worry about it," Mrs. Johnson assured her, "Think of this as a gift for you. As Larry said, this is for you to put away for something special, like your goals that you've always told us about." Emily smiled sadly, feeling tears pool in her eyes as she processed what they were telling her.
"Now, what are your plans for when you leave the Cheesecake Factory?" Mrs. Johnson continued, "It's only 11:00, and you know Denver has a lot to do at this hour."
Emily chuckled, flexing her feet as she felt her heels begin to pinch a little bit. "I'm probably just going to go home and climb into bed," she answered, "These long hours always leave me a little tired. What about you two?"
"We're going to catch a late night movie," Mr. Johnson reported as he wrapped his arms around his wife, "And then we'll probably go dancing after that."
Emily grinned, pushing a lock of black hair out of her face. "You two never mentioned that you still went out like that."
Mrs. Johnson laughed. "What?" she teased, "You think that just because we're almost seventy that we can't still be young at heart? There are plenty of venues for people our age to go to. We may not be as young as you anymore, but there's nothing wrong with still trying to live life to the fullest."
"But it is best to enjoy your youth while you can," Mr. Johnson added, "You're only young once, you know."
Emily smiled again, though it was a lot more tightlipped than it had been a few minutes ago. "So I've been told," she mumbled, "I should probably get going now, or else my parents will be wondering where I am. Thank you again for the money. I really appreciate it."
"You're welcome," Mrs. Johnson replied, "Drive home safely. And remember what we told you."
Emily nodded one last time, eventually turning and exiting the Cheesecake Factory as she swiftly made her way through the 16th Street Mall, hurrying to her car as she quickly unlocked the doors and climbed inside. She wasn't afraid of the dark, per se, but she always felt slightly unsettled whenever she had to walk anywhere by herself at this time of night.
As she took the short drive home, she thought about what Mr. and Mrs. Johnson had told her, about how they were trying to encourage her to do something spontaneous and go out that night. She sighed again as she thought about how true those words were, but how she simply couldn't apply them to herself at that moment. She already had so much going on in her life that doing something such as hanging out at a bar didn't sound all that appealing to her. Maybe to other people, it was, but she didn't see the point. Not really.
To distract herself, she turned on the radio, hoping to catch some good music on her favorite stations, but to her annoyance, all she heard was the news for almost the entire ride. "And in other news tonight," the woman on the radio began right after the usual traffic and weather report, "Murkoff Corporations reported on their website earlier today that they've raised enough money from charity to finally finish refurbishing Mount Massive Asylum's Vocational Block. As you all know, this was a project that they launched on KickStarter at the end of last year, and after they successfully reached their goal, we got the chance to interview the head of the asylum, Jeremy Blaire."
Suddenly, a male voice poured through the speakers, and for some reason, Emily found herself turning up the volume out of curiosity. "I'd just like to say thank you to everyone who donated to charity," he had apparently said to the interviewer, "We couldn't have done it without the help of the American people. For too long, these asylums have had such a bad reputation in history, but thanks to all my efforts, that's going to change. The whole point is to allow the patients to learn trade skills. To feel like they're actually useful. That's our goal at Mount Massive. Our-"
Emily switched the station, a slight wave of irritation coursing through her as she took in the slightly arrogant tone in his voice. Ugh, she thought, Just HIS efforts? Couldn't he at least give other people some credit?
Whatever. She didn't have time to worry about what Jeremy Blaire or Murkoff were doing to try and refurbish Mount Massive Asylum. Truth be told, she didn't care much about any of what was in the news to begin with. She'd tune in every now and then if it was a major story, but other than that, she figured there was already enough misery in the world without having to be reminded of it on television.
Still, there was something about this latest development with Blaire, Murkoff and Mount Massive Asylum that bothered her the whole rest of the way back, and she didn't know what it was.
By the time Emily made it back to her neighborhood, Cherry Creek, she was exhausted, and so ready to visit the hot tub before climbing under her covers. She hadn't mentioned it to the Johnsons before, but that was one of her favorite hobbies, the hot, bubbling water relaxing her muscles after a long afternoon at work. It was the only way she knew how to relieve her stress, where she could be alone and not have to worry about everything going on in the outside world.
As she pulled into her driveway, Emily sighed again, taking in her three-floor home that she'd lived in for her whole life. Like all the other houses in Cherry Creek, it was spacious, and clearly meant for a family that was a little more well-off than most. She shook her head as she locked the car doors and took her keys out, entering the large, well lit foyer after pushing the door open. "I'm home!" she called out, and as soon as she did that, she heard the familiar sound of her German Shepherd bounding down the stairs in order to greet her.
"Hi, Jane!" Emily cried as the dog leaned in to lick her face, crying in happiness as she allowed one of her masters to scratch her behind her ears, "How are you? It's good to see you, too!"
Jane barked, panting just as more footsteps reached Emily's ears, and she glanced up as she spotted her parents emerging from their bedroom.
"Oh good, you're home!" Mrs. Wilkins cried, tying her bathrobe a little tighter around herself as she clutched the banister. Emily took in her mother's light skin, brown hair, and brown eyes as she made her way down the stairs, moving forward to pull her daughter in for a hug.
"How was work today?" she asked.
Emily let out another sigh. "It was good," she answered, "But really tiring. I think I'm going to go sit in the hot tub for a little while. Just to wind down before I go to sleep."
"Good idea," Mrs. Wilkins commented, "Your father and I were just saying you needed to find something to help you relax. You're always so tense, Emmy."
Emily winced. "Is it that obvious?" she asked.
Her mother nodded as she adjusted her glasses. "Yes. And relaxing in the hot tub is one of the best stress relievers out there. Now, go ahead before it gets too late."
And with that, Emily kissed her mother good night and made her way upstairs, pausing to say the same to her father before finally arriving at her own bedroom.
And now, I finally get to relax, she thought happily to herself as she began to change into her favorite black bikini, standing in front of the mirror as she placed her hands on her hips and studied her appearance. Her long, jet black hair was still braided from before, her tan skin somehow looking a little lighter than in the past, and her brown eyes slightly darker than usual. That was probably because of the aforementioned stress her mother had been referring to.
Just as she finished changing and reached up to undo her braid, however, Emily suddenly heard her phone ring from her bed. Odd, she thought as she padded over to the other side of the room and reached for the mobile device, Nobody ever calls me at this time of night. The number flashing on the screen seemed vaguely familiar, though, and she bit her lower lip as she slid her thumb across the screen and held the phone up to her ear. "Hello?" she asked.
"Em!" the high-pitched, slightly scratchy voice on the other end cried, "Thank God I reached you! I knew I could find your number somehow!"
Emily felt her heart begin to beat a little faster as she clutched her phone even tighter. "Sarah?" she spat incredulously, "I wasn't expecting to hear from you! What's going on?"
"You better get over here fast," Sarah replied, "It's…Ty. He's trying to go street racing and he keeps insisting that he's okay enough to drive someone else's car when he clearly isn't. Or even just being a passenger. Maybe you can somehow…God, I'm really sorry for pestering you like this, Em, but-"
"It's okay," Emily assured her gently, "I'll be right over to pick you guys up. Whatever you do, don't let him leave the house." She hung up, tossing her phone on the bed as she sighed, folding her arms as she glanced over at a picture of her and her twin brother posing in front of the Eiffel Tower three years ago. Like always, a goofy grin was plastered across his face as he gave a thumbs up to the camera while Emily simply smiled, tilting her head to the side.
"Tyler, Tyler, Tyler," she mumbled to herself, "What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?"
Elsewhere in Cherry Creek…
"Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots!" everyone in the room chanted over and over again as Tyler Wilkins reached for a bottle of cotton candy vodka and poured some more in the cluster of empty shot glasses on the table. As soon as he was finished, the same people who had downed the first round of shots cheered as they reached forward and picked up their glasses, toasting each other before leaning their heads back and swallowing the vodka in one gulp.
"You guys should have waited for me!" Tyler joked as he laughed and shook his head, "Now I have to do this alone!"
"Go for it, Ty!" one of his friends shouted from the other side of the table, "Tyler! Tyler! Tyler!"
Soon, it was as if the entire room was chanting his name, stomping their feet on the ground, and slamming their fists on the table, and he didn't think twice before tilting his head back and downing the shot, earning cheers from his friends as he put the shot glass down and took a deep breath. He already had a bottle of Corona Lime waiting for him, and he reached for it as he took a sip, glancing around the room as everyone else talked, laughed, danced, and partied the night away.
It wasn't just the festivities that helped him to relax: the loud house music blaring through the tall speakers always helped keep him in his element, where he had nothing else to worry about and he could just simply have a good time. There was no sense in getting worked up over life when it was so short to begin with. This is the life, he thought to himself as he glanced up at a group of his friends who had sat down next to him. He knew several of them had talked about going street racing in a little while, and despite his friend, Sarah's, protests, he still wanted to go anyway. There was nothing more exhilarating than putting the pedal to the floor and speeding down the highway at almost one hundred miles an hour, even if he was just the passenger in someone else's car.
"So, Jason," Tyler began in a slightly slurred voice as he suddenly thought of something that he'd heard on the news earlier during dinner, "Did you hear about Murkoff finally raising enough money to refurbish Mount Massive Asylum's Vocational Block?"
His best friend, Jason, simply waved his hand dismissively as he began to roll a couple of joints. "Mount what?" he asked.
"You know," Tyler replied, taking another sip of beer, "That asylum up in the mountains. The one that was closed in the '70s, but then reopened back in 2009? I just heard today that-"
"Ty," Jason interrupted as he lit one of the joints, "No offense, but nobody cares about some lunatics up in the mountains, all right? So why do you?"
Tyler swallowed some more Corona, his face feeling slightly warm now from all the alcohol he had drunk that night. "Well, I figured it could be something interesting-"
"Look," Jason cut him off for a second time, "We're here to have a good time, okay? Not for you to get all hung up on the news and shit. Now, shut up and light up." He passed the other joint to Tyler, who accepted it as he lit it and began to take a few puffs, the smell of marijuana filling his nostrils as the haze began to slowly help him relax. Jason was right, he thought to himself as he tilted his head back again. Why had he even bothered to bring up what he'd heard on the news? He was here to have a good time with his friends. That was what he was all about, and he'd be damned if he made anyone think otherwise, especially at the risk of sounding like-
"Tyler!"
Tyler gasped as he leaned forward once more, throwing his joint on the table as he heard that familiar, sharp tone of voice that he had grown to hate. Jason and the other boys who had joined him also looked up from what they were doing, breaking into raucous laughter as they reached for their cups of vodka this time.
"Well, well, well," Jason slurred as he grinned from ear to ear, "Looks like the Ice Queen has decided to join us mere commoners after all." Another round of laughter ensued, and Tyler glanced up from the table as he found himself staring at none other than his sister and Sarah.
"Can it, Jason," Emily snapped as she narrowed her eyes at him in response, "Tyler, what are you doing?" She turned to face him next, fixing him with the same icy stare that made him flinch. He noticed her focus was mostly on the joint he had tossed onto the table, and he could only imagine what she was going to say about that.
"Nothing," Tyler insisted, "Just having a good time, that's all. Why do you have to be such a fucking killjoy?"
Emily ignored him as she leaned forward, cleared away the joints and shot glasses, and grabbed her brother by his hand. "Come on, get up," she ordered, "We're leaving."
Jason laughed for a third time. "Who are you?" he asked, "His mother?"
"No!" Tyler yelled, slapping his sister's hand away, "She's not. Just go away, Emily. I don't need you to babysit me all the time."
"I think you mean Mom, Ty," one of the other boys called out, "Sounds like she has a set curfew for you these days." More raucous laughter filled the room, with some of the others mumbling Ice Queen under their breaths as Emily and Sarah tugged on Tyler's arms. Tyler glanced up at his twin sister, unable to decipher what she was thinking and feeling due to the emotionless expression she wore on her face. This was not the first time she had pulled him away from a party like this, and he could feel his irritation increasing by the second as the girls led him towards the front door.
"See you later, Ice Queen!" Jason called out after Emily, "Good luck pulling that stick out of your ass!"
Emily ignored him, directing Tyler and Sarah towards her car that she'd decided to park one block away, just in case somebody ended up calling the police on the party. Without wasting another minute, she forced her brother into the passenger seat while their friend climbed into the back, and Tyler cursed under his breath as Emily gunned the engine to life and began to drive back to Sarah's house so that they could drop her off. At first, there was a tense silence in the car until Emily eventually broke it.
"Thanks for calling me, Sarah," she thanked her, "And letting me know about this."
Before Sarah could respond, Tyler suddenly spoke up, finally unable to hold back his irritation with his sister. "What the hell was that back there?" he demanded, "Where do you get off on embarrassing me in front of my friends all the time?"
Emily frowned, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter now. "I was embarrassing you?" she spat, "I'd say you were already doing a good job of that yourself. You're lucky I got there before the cops did!"
"Nobody called the cops on us!" Tyler quipped, "Because nobody gives a damn about people throwing a party! Unless they're uptight, fun-hating prudes like you! And for the record, weed is really not that bad for you, but of course you wouldn't see it that way. It's no wonder my friends hate you so much!"
"Friends?" Emily cried incredulously as she quickly slammed on her brakes to avoid running a red light, "You honestly think Jason and those low lives are your friends?"
"Yes!" Tyler snapped, "Believe it or not, they are! It's a hell of a lot more than you have, that's for sure! Maybe if you stopped acting like you're better than everyone else just because you want to go to graduate school, you'd have some friends, too!"
"Guys!" Sarah yelled from the back seat, making both of them jump in their seats, "Stop it! Please! Can't you wait until you get home to kill each other?"
Tyler sighed petulantly as he turned his gaze to the view outside his window. "You shouldn't have called her in the first place," he said.
"Don't be angry with Sarah," Emily chided him, "She did the right thing."
"Shut up, Emily," Tyler replied as he raised a hand up to his forehead, "Nobody's even talking to you right now." His sister said nothing, merely clenching her teeth as she kept her eyes on the road up ahead as she did her best not to snap at him in response. The three of them remained silent for the rest of the ride, the tension so thick that they could cut it with a knife, and Tyler sighed for the umpteenth time as he studied Emily and the emotionless mask she had settled back into. That was the only expression she wore around him these days, which only added to his irritation even more. It was as if she couldn't stand the sight of him, as if she wished anyone else but him was related to her, and it ate away at him constantly, no matter how much he tried to ignore it.
Things hadn't always been this way, he recalled despite the fact that his head had begun to spin from the mix of weed and alcohol. There was a time when the two of them used to get along a lot better than they did now, but he could never seem to figure out why Emily had all of a sudden snapped and morphed into an uptight control freak, and why she was always worried about money when she really didn't need to be. Both of their parents were doctors, who made enough money to give them the comfortable life they'd known since childhood. He knew they would always be there to take care of their children, so he just couldn't understand why she seemed to be so concerned with not having any money at all.
After dropping Sarah off, the Wilkins twins continued on the way back to their house, eventually pulling into the driveway as Emily parked behind Tyler's Lexus. "I should have taken Road Warrior tonight," Tyler lamented, using the nickname he had decided to give his car after his parents had bought it for him, "Then I could have just done whatever I wanted."
"Which was what?" Emily quipped, "Nearly getting yourself killed on I-70?"
Tyler climbed out of the car, slamming the passenger door shut as he stormed over to the front door, pulling his key out in order to let himself in. Emily quickly followed him, marching up to the door as well as she frowned at her brother. "Could you at least give me the courtesy of not slamming my car door shut like that?" she asked sharply.
Tyler whirled around to face her as he pushed the front door open. "No," he snapped, "I couldn't, because you sure as hell have no consideration for anybody else!"
Emily balked before laughing harshly. "Oh, that's rich, coming from you! How about-"
"Tyler! Emily! What is going on down here?"
Both siblings gasped as they suddenly heard their normally soft-spoken father yell at them from the staircase, their mother joining his side at the same time. In his slight buzz, Tyler completely ignored the angry tone of voice, instead taking in his father's appearance and noticing how much more he looked like him than his mother. Unlike Mrs. Wilkins, Mr. Wilkins was a middle-aged, African American man with slightly greying black hair and brown eyes, and Tyler rolled his eyes as he wondered if the fact that his parents were two different ethnicities was the reason why people kept claiming that him and his sister looked "exotic".
"Don't roll your eyes at me, Tyler!" Mr. Wilkins snapped, "Now one of you better explain to us why you're storming into the house so late at night and arguing with each other!"
Tyler felt his irritation rise even more as Emily glanced up and pointed at him. "I had to go pick him up," she said, "Because he was out getting drunk and stoned again! And he wanted to go street racing!"
"I was having fun before you showed up and humiliated me!" Tyler fired back, "Like you always do, because you're just that much of an Ice Queen!"
Emily fumed as she placed her hands on her hips and glared at her brother. "You know what, why don't you just-"
"Enough!" Mrs. Wilkins interrupted them as she raised her hands, "Both of you! Listen to yourselves! You're twenty two years old and arguing like you're ten! Can't either of you hear how ridiculous and immature you sound right now?" Neither Emily nor Tyler said anything in response, only giving their parents withering stares as their father picked up where their mother left off.
"Look," he said, "I don't know why you two always seem to be at each other's throats these days, but I do know that your mother and I are getting tired of it. Either don't speak to each other at all or work out your differences, because I refuse to spend another day in this house with all this negative energy going around."
Tyler folded his arms impatiently. "There's nothing for me to work out," he declared, "That's all on Emily."
"This isn't just about your sister," Mrs. Wilkins piped up, "We've told you time and time again that you need to start trying to move away from that wild child, partying lifestyle. It's time for you to grow up and start acting your age."
"I am acting my age," Tyler insisted, but his mother ignored him as she then turned her stern gaze to her daughter.
"And Emily," she continued, "It wouldn't kill you to get some friends and get out of this house on the nights that you're off from the Cheesecake Factory. All you do is worry about your job and school, but there's more to life than that. Don't let all of this pass you by, because you're only young once."
Emily didn't say a word, merely glancing down at the floor as she replayed Mr. and Mrs. Johnson's words in her head. "I know," she mumbled, "But-"
"No buts, Emily," Mr. Wilkins interrupted her, "We're both going back to bed now, and I don't want to hear another raised voice from either of you tonight. Is that clear?"
Tyler and Emily let out a deep breath at the same time, giving each other steely glances as they slowly nodded. They could put aside their feud for now, until another opportunity came along, but that didn't mean it was over in the least.
"Good," Mrs. Wilkins said, "We'll see you both in the morning. Good night. And no more fighting." She and Mr. Wilkins stepped forward to kiss both their children before turning and heading back up the stairs to the master bedroom. Once they were gone, the twins silently made their way to their rooms as well, colliding on the staircase as they glared at each other again.
"Good night, Emily Vanessa," Tyler whispered harshly, using both Emily's given name and middle name, which he knew always got under her skin.
"You too, Tyler Anthony," Emily replied, pushing past him as she hurried upstairs and shut her door behind her. Tyler remained on the staircase, clutching the banister as he glanced at all the family photos on the walls. His eyes eventually landed on one of him and his sister at the age of eight, when they'd gone on a trip to Disney World with their parents and grandparents. Both of them looked happy and carefree, without any of the drama that befell them in recent years. He couldn't believe how long ago those days seemed to be now, and they were days that he realized he might never see again.
And with that, he continued up the stairs, unaware of the fact that a phone call in the not too distant future would set off an unexpected chain of events for both him and Emily.
One that would change everything that they thought they knew.
