[PUNCH CLOCK ANIMAL] GLASS STEW

[skinstealer]

CHAPTER ONE: BIG SISTER

CWs: SA/CSA/incest implications, extremely uncomfortable interactions, abuse, violence

When you first meet your big sister, she is smiling. 

It’s not like the warm smiles your mother gives you, full of pride and confidence. When the person in front of you smiles, you can’t help but picture a knife, carving spiraling curves from ear to ear, letting smoke escape from the ends. But she smiles, and you think smiling’s a good thing, even if looking at her makes you feel a little sick. 

“Mother dearest,” she starts sarcastically, “said I should meet you. Say hi. Be a good role model.” 

You’re not sure you like the way she talks about your mom. Wane told you once that “mother” was way too stuffy, and you can call them “mom” or just “Wane”. 

 You shuffle from side to side, avoiding eye contact because you know your pupils are visible, and you know your nerves are showing, and it’s making you even more nervous to be here. Your mom wanted you to meet in a neutral location, somewhere safe, and away from the prying eyes of mortals. The room feels too small for the two of you, but you try to keep your spirits up. After all, this was a big deal!

Your mom told you about this way in advance, and you were excited! From the sound of it, having an older sibling was like… like an adventure. Your mom told you you were lucky, that they never got to have anything like this. You’ve spent the past few days unable to stop thinking about it.

But this isn’t how things went in your head. 

In your head, your sister was big, warm, and brave; just like your mom. She would scoop you up and spin you around and tell you all the god secrets that your mom said were too grown up for you. 

But here, in the real world, she is warm only in the feeling of heat emanating from her body, like a runaway fever. She’s smaller than you, not by much, but you don’t know if she’d be able to pick you up at all. She doesn’t seem scared, but that feels weird on its own… shouldn’t she be a little bit nervous too? 

“So?” The god leans in, interrupting your train of thought. She’s looking up and following your head’s motions as you turn to the side, trying to avoid the smoke. She’s just trying to be friendly, you tell yourself. Just interested. Curious. “You gonna tell me your name? I know you can talk.”

You’ve been stuck on that for weeks now, ever since your mom told you that names were important. That a name’s a legacy to protect, and to do right by. It just feels like so much weight, and you’re never sure where to start. “I don’t have one.”

“Why not? You too good for names?” 

“I don’t know yet…” She’s staring at you, and you swallow hard. “Sorry…”

“Well! Well, well, well. Better be careful there, sis.” She’s close enough for you to feel her breath, the smoke making your eyes well up. “Little kids without names can get lost out there in the big, bad world. If you ain’t got a name, nobody can find you if something goes screwy.” 

You swear that she licks along her teeth, but it’s just your imagination. It has to be. 

“Lemme guess. Mom gave you the big ol’ speech about choosing your own destiny or whatever the fuck.” You nod, not wanting to open your mouth and let the smoke in, the heat getting closer and closer to unbearable.  

“She sprung that on me early too. I thought good and hard about it. Went through all these names at first, trying to get it just right. I tried all kinds of shit… Hack, Sawbone, even fucking Glen if you can believe it. Do I look like a Glen to you?” 

You shake your head quickly, though you’re not even sure what a Glen was supposed to look like in the first place. “Just as I was thinking I shouldn’t waste any more time, it came to me. The perfect name.”

“You see, I realized- I needed a word. Words are, y'know, the old fashioned way of doing shit. Lots of people don’t spring for that now, but back then… I needed a word.” She pauses. “Do you know what kind of word you want, lil’ sis?”

“What kind?” 

“Yeah. You know. A feel. A vibe. What kinda energy you want to get across?”

You glance down at her, seeing her genuinely curious expression. You ease up a little- surely the tics you saw earlier were just that, tics. She wants to get to know you, see?

“I want a name that sounds… nice, I guess. Something that makes people want to be my friend-” As soon as you say it, it sounds stupid and feels even stupider, your face heating up. You look away again, only turning your head more when you hear her start to laugh.

“That’s cute. Real cute. Let me tell you a secret, alright?”

She reaches up and pulls your head down with a meaty tendril, looking you straight in the eyes. Your pupils are showing again. 

“Everybody wants friends. People want people. It’s how the world works. What matters, is how you want to get ‘em. How you wanna get to that point. And y’know, it all circles back- when I picked my name, I knew exactly what I wanted.”

She can’t keep herself from grinning wide, the curls of her lips tightening at the ends.

“I wanted people to hear my name and say- ‘Wow, now there’s a real piece of work! There’s a real bitch and a half right there!’ Now, you might say-” She raises her voice up a few pitches, the sound grating on your nerves immediately. “ ‘Big sis, that doesn’t sound like it’ll make you friends at all!’ And you’d be right. It doesn’t, not in the easy way.”

“But when people hear the name Spit...oh, the right people come. They always do.” You try to move out of her grip, the tendril tightening around your neck just enough to be felt. Her face, Spit’s face is so close, too close-
 
“It’s people who value power, who value guts, that’s who I want as friends. But you…” She squeezes harder, and when she licks her teeth this time, you can’t wish it away. “You’re more of the squishy type, aren’t’cha? I mean, just look at you.” 

You think she touches your stomach, but you’re pretending you don’t feel it. “You’re totally harmless! You’d get eaten alive in a fight…” The emphasis in Spit’s words sends a chill down your back. “You went and lost your only saving grace when our dear, sweet, mama pulled you outta the ground and changed you...but hey-!”

She releases your neck without warning, watching as you sputter and try to get your bearings. “That’s why I’m here, lil’ sis! To be a guide! To be friends. You aren’t the type I usually pal around with, but it’ll be fun! I’m gonna teach you eeeeverything I know.” 

She slaps you on the back with a tendril, straightening up your posture immediately.

“Every!“

Something sharp digs in.

“Last!”

It stings.

“Drop!”   

You heard her loud and clear earlier… she… she wanted to be friends, right? This must be a test, to see if you’re strong enough! And you know if you focus on standing, on taking it, it’ll all work out.

She’s your big sister, after all.

So you focus on standing, and on taking it, and when you look into Spit’s eyes again you swear you see something there, something deep and raw and hungry. She nods slowly as you stay upright, withdrawing her arm tendril and reshaping it back into a thick stump. Glass shards shaped like claws impale outwards, getting far too close for comfort as she extends her newfound hand.

She puts on a friendlier tone, keeping her voice lighter.

“I’ve got an idea! Let’s shake on our new partnership!”

You look down at the glass and back up again.

“If...If I touch that, won’t it hurt?”

“You don’t wanna be rude, do you?” Her smirk widens, just enough to be noticed. “I’m here to be your guide! Teach you some manners, get some lessons under your belt, and here’s a lil bonus tip before the main course. When someone offers you a hand…”

She shoves her hand into yours, glass cutting in. You’re too shocked to even make a sound, a wave of fear rippling through your form. You think you see her smile more at that, every movement you make under gleeful, sadistic scrutiny.

“You shake. You understand, kid?”

You nod, holding the tears back as best you can. This is just a test, another test, you have to be strong, prove yourself, you have to, you have to-

“Say it.”

Her eyes are burning into yours.

“I, I-”

Her shoulders are shaking, laughter starting to sneak into every breath.

“Y-y-you? You WHAT?!”

Why is it funny to her? Why is she laughing? You don’t understand-

“I understand! I, I understand, I promise!”

She doesn’t let go. 

“Lesson number one from your new big sis.” She opens and closes her glass shard fingers, cutting uneven slices through the sludge.

“Speak!”

 You can’t tell if you’re screaming. 

“When you are SPOKEN TO!”

She squeezes her hand together around yours, sludge seeping in between the glass.

“Lesson number TWO!” 

There’s something wrong with her voice, it doesn’t sound right-

“You answer to ME, and ONLY me!”

Spit lets go of your hand at the last second before her other arm, tipped in a shard-covered stump, slams into the side of your head. You fall, unable to catch yourself before she pins you, shards slicing down your back in crooked lines, like her curled smile.

“Lesson three, the most important one…”

She squats down, watching the tears pool out around you as your face melts into the ground, almost splattered.

“This? This right here? This...ohhhh, this SACRED sisterly bond we have, this beautiful, FAMILIAL gift we’ve been given…”

Spit leans in, whispering directly into what’s left of your ear.

“This is our little secret. What happens between us…”

You can’t focus on what’s happening, what she’s doing to you.

“Stays between us.” 

You feel so sick, you don’t understand it, this isn’t how it was supposed to go, this is too much, you want your mom-

You can’t hold yourself back from vomiting as she hits you again mid-gag. 

“You know what, lil’ sis? I found the perfect name for you. It’s a goddamn, one of a kind, laugh riot.” She kicks your side, spindly-looking leg hitting harder than it looked like it ever could. “I’m gonna call you Wretch. You get that, kid?” She starts giggling, shoulders shaking like it’s one of the funniest things she’s ever heard. “Do you get the joke?”

You’re choking on your own sick as you nod. You think you’re saying something but you can’t make it out, it’s just to follow rule number one, it’s anything to get her away from you. 

Anything to go back home to Mom. 

“Then LAUGH.” 

You laugh for her, barely able to hear your own voice. You laugh, and laugh, and laugh, and she starts talking again, not waiting for you to stop. 

You can’t remember what she says. 

Maybe you don’t want to.

The drive home is all you remember after that, pulled along in a bumpy cart for hours. The driver doesn’t speak to you, and part of you wishes he would more than anything, that he would notice that something’s wrong and ask if you’re okay. 

But, he doesn’t. Not now, and not ever.

The next time you see your big sister, she tears off your arm and splatters it against the rusted floor of her room, sending you to bed crying. You see her standing over you while you’re pretending to sleep, and you tell yourself that it’s all just dreams.

The next time you see your mom, you don’t tell them. They’re happy that things are going so well, and you tell yourself that their smile is worth it.

Days turn to weeks. Weeks turn to months. Months to seasons. You lose track of the visits, of the times spent crying, of how many times you feel glass cut into your form, of how many nights you stay up getting sicker and sicker.

The name she gives you sticks. When you meet with your mom in their giant, cavernous mountain, they’re confused and concerned at first, giving you a weird look that doesn’t go away even as you explain.

“It’s a test.”

They stay quiet, looming over you and listening to every word. 

“When people hear the name Wretch, they’ll think of somethin’ pitiful. Somethin’ gross and sick… but I’m not gonna be gross. I’m gonna be good.”

“I’m gonna have a scary name, but I’ll have friends that don’t care about that! They’ll see that I’m tryin’ as hard as I can, and, and… the right people will come.”

“Big sis says they always do.”