Chapter 1

*Ten years ago*

Morning dawned on the picturesque suburban houses of Lima, pale and pink. There was nothing amiss. Just the usual routine. Husbands leaving for work in eery synchronization, lawns being watered and mowed, children lazing about during their Thanksgiving break, the sky a perfect cloudless blue...

Amidst the idealistic paradise, Carole Hudson walked up to the Fabray household and knocked promptly on the door.

Judy Fabray opened the door with an expectant smile that dimmed slightly as she saw who was at the door. “Oh, hello Carole.”

“Hello Judy,” Carole smiled warmly. “Since the weather’s beginning to cool down in a  few weeks, the hospital’s making sure that everyone’s up to date on all of their shots so our kids can get into winter healthy and prepared. Is Quinn home?”

“No,” Judy said, her tone growing a shade exasperated. “She’s still Black Friday shopping with the rest of the girls.”

“Oh! That’s right of course, how silly of me to forget,” Carole laughed. “Well then, can I make an appointment for her in pediatrics? So she can get checked up when she gets back?”

“Why don’t we wait for her to return,” Judy said hurriedly. “I’m just not sure what her schedule’s like.”

“Okay then,” Carole nodded. “I’ll talk to you both later, then.”

“Goodbye Carole.” The door closed with a snap.

***

“Well, I found your problem,” the plumber frowned, pulling the piece of fabric from the pipe with a frown. “How on earth did you get a tie down the drain?”

Sebastian adopted an expression of polite surprise as the young plumber turned around, holding his Dalton tie aloft. He just shrugged and took another sip of his red wine, tugging innocently on the collar of his polo. “I haven’t the faintest idea. You know, I was reading an article somewhere that plumbers are awfully lonely. School boys are lonely too, especially after their parents leave them as soon as Turkey Day’s over to go on a month cruise to Aruba.”

“Uh huh,” the plumber said, screwing the pipe back in. 

“You’re awfully good with your hands,” Sebastian purred, slinking closer. “Why don’t we--”

The door bell rang, long and shrill through the house. 

Sebastian’s jaw twitched in irritation before he adopted a smile. “Let me just check who this is. Don’t go anywhere.” The plumber nodded, bemused. 

Sebastian rolled his eyes as he rounded the corner and snapped the door open. “What?”

Carole blinked, taken aback at his brusque manner. “Why...hello there, Sebastian!”

“Hello Mrs. Hudson,” he smirked. “Tell me, has that rabid excuse of a hairstyle you’ve got been so troublesome that you can’t see around it?”

“What...? No--”

“Can’t you see that there’s a car in the driveway?”

“Yes--”

“Can’t you see that it isn’t my parent’s?”

“Well, yes--”

“Then you should know that I’m busy.” He closed the door with a snap.

***

Carole sighed dejectedly as she walked down her block. She briefly contemplated stopping at Tammy’s, but quickly changed her mind when she glanced in the window and say her manically straightening her Alaskan flag. Instead, she sat heavily down in her car, rubbing lightly at her temples. “Today just isn’t my day,” she sighed, closing the door to lean on it. She gazed out at the pastel picture in front of her before she realized that something was off. There, in the corner of her eye was a black smudge. She adjusted her rear view mirror. Anderson Manor loomed on its hilltop behind her, the giant ugly scar on the otherwise perfect suburb. 

She smiled. She was very good at healing scars. 

And that’s how she found herself driving up the hill to the mansion, quietly taking in the overgrowth of plants and the decay of the outer walls and gates. She parked her car next to a smaller gate, most of the iron bent off its hinges. She carefully climbed over brambles and roots, pulled back a curtain of vines and gasped, looking around.

The black mansion was nearly overrun with vibrant flowers. Flora of every color and variety were artfully trimmed and arranged around the dilapidated structure, giving the estate a weird atmosphere of morbid cheerfulness. Carole walked through roses and lilies and poppies up to the front door, glancing up to the top window when something moved out of the corner of her eye. “Hello?” She called up, climbing onto the porch. She opened the door.

The inside was a stark contrast from the vivid optimism of the outside. It was spacious and dark and filled with cobwebs. There was an entire assembly line that was shut down, little knick knacks and mechanical gadgets littered the floor. 

She moved to the large sweeping staircase, starting a little when she saw a shadow move out of the corner of her eye. “Hello? she asked, climbing the stairs, casting a wary glance over the expanse of the bottom floor below her.

Carole walked up to the top floor which opened into a spacious attic room. Part of the roof had caved in, letting in the brilliant sunlight. Carole wandered over to the corner where there was a slumped bed with a board of news paper articles. Articles on bullying, deformities and--oddly enough--bird care. She frowned as she looked at the iron bird cage hanging next to the bed, its doors flung open. She was running a finger down one of the bars of the cage, when she heard an odd snipping sound behind her.

She turned and jumped as she saw a boy sitting in the far corner, covered in shadows. It looked like he was cutting something out of a magazine. “Hello!” She called out, moving towards him. “I’m Carole Hudson, one of your neighbors. I’m a nurse from Lima Hospital and I wanted to make sure that--” She broke off as the boy stood up, walking towards her with the large shears still in his hands, moving forward like an ominous wraith.

She gulped. “I’m sorry, you seem busy, how silly of me. I really shouldn’t have just walked in here, I’ll just be going--”

“Don’t...go,” the boy said quietly, stepping out into the light. He was wearing what looked like a black leather jump suit, from his toes to his neck, with straps and buckles all over. His pale olive skin was riddled with scars and fresh cuts, and his black hair was wild and curly and all over the place. He looked absolutely terrified.

Carole took a cautious step forward. “What...Honey, what happened to you?”

“I...” the boy looked around lost. Suddenly his shears were raised up and Carole jumped back. “I’m not finished.

“Put those down!” Carole said, eying the sharp metal. There was something off about it... “I can’t help you unless...” She trailed off as she looked at the shears, really looked at them and at the boy’s terrified face. “Are those...” she gasped. “Are those your hands?”

The boy just stood there, scissors flicking nervously.

“What happened to you?” she tried again, edging closer. This time the boy took a step back. “Where are your parents?” He blinked at her, confused. “A mother? Father?” More confused blinking. “Sister? Brother?” 

He looked to the side, his eye pain-stricken. “He...” he began hoarsely. “He wouldn’t wake up. I...I tried but...” He glanced through the hole in the roof, out over the nearly garishly bright flowers.

Carole bit her lip. “You live up here by yourself?” The boy looked down and the light highlighted the cuts and scars on his skin. “What happened to your face?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she immediately regretted them because his hands clicked and it immediately became obvious. “Well, at least let me disinfect them for you, as long as I’m here...” She reached into her bag and pulled out a couple of alcohol wipes. 

The boy took a couple of startled steps back but she waited patiently for him to come forward again before gently dabbing across his face. He hissed lightly at first before cautiously leaning into her touch as she made sure to get to every cut. It occurred to her that this was probably his first contact with another person for quite some time. Not to mention his cuts hadn’t been properly taken care of by the looks of some of the scars...

“What’s your name?”

The boy bit his lip before muttering, “Blaine.”

She smiled. “That’s a lovely name.” She finished with his face and took a step back at his cowering frame. She made a snap decision.

“Blaine, I think you should just come home with me.”