That evening, Trixie stood outside Holo's childhood home. The house was nondescript, an ordinary two-story suburban house that hid the cruelty that had taken place within its walls. Trixie's emerald eyes glinted with a dark determination as she smoothed her black jacket and took a deep breath. She wasn't here to talk; she was here to deliver justice.
Trixie walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. She heard muffled voices and heavy footsteps approaching before the door swung open, revealing Holo's father. His face twisted into a scowl the moment he saw her.
"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, his tone sharp and dismissive.
Trixie tilted her head, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh, I'm no one important," she said sweetly, stepping forward to block the doorway. "Just Holo's girlfriend."
His father's expression darkened, and he let out a bark of laughter. "Girlfriend? That pathetic waste of space managed to fool someone like you? Don't make me laugh."
Trixie's smile didn't falter, but her eyes grew colder. Before she could respond, Holo's mother appeared behind him, her lips pressed into a thin line as she folded her arms across her chest.
"What are you doing here?" she snapped, her tone filled with disdain. "If you're here to beg for money or something, you're wasting your time. That useless brat already stole enough from us."
Trixie's fists clenched at her sides, but she kept her composure. "I didn't come here to talk about money," she said, her voice deceptively sweet. "I came here to talk about how you treated Holo."
His father sneered. "We raised that boy. Gave him everything he needed, and this is how he repays us? Running off and leaving us to deal with the mess he made?"
Trixie's smile widened, her emerald eyes gleaming with a sadistic edge. "Everything he needed, huh? Is that what you call beating him? Berating him? Telling him he was worthless? If that's your definition of parenting, I think we need to have a little chat."
His father stepped forward, his voice rising. "Listen here, you little—"
Before he could finish, Trixie's fist shot out, connecting with his jaw in a blur of motion. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious, before his wife could even react. Holo's mother screamed, but Trixie was faster. She grabbed the woman by the arm, twisting it behind her back with ease.
"Shh," Trixie whispered in her ear, her tone laced with mock sympathy. "You wouldn't want to wake the neighbors, would you?"
With surprising strength, Trixie dragged the unconscious father and struggling mother down to the basement. The space was dark and musty, cluttered with old furniture and boxes, but Trixie didn't mind. It was perfect for what she had planned.
She tied each of them to a sturdy wooden chair, using thick rope to ensure they couldn't escape. Once they were secure, she stuffed gags into their mouths to silence their protests. Finally, she stepped back, brushing her hands together as she admired her handiwork.
The father groaned, his eyes fluttering open. He blinked in confusion, his gaze darting around the dimly lit basement before landing on Trixie. His muffled shouts were barely audible through the gag, but the fury in his eyes was clear.
Trixie smirked, pulling up a chair and sitting down in front of them. She crossed her legs, leaning forward slightly as she rested her chin on her hand. "Good, you're awake," she said cheerfully. "I was starting to get bored."
The mother woke moments later, her panicked eyes meeting Trixie's calm, sadistic gaze. She squirmed against the ropes, but her struggles were futile.
"You know," Trixie began, her voice light and conversational, "I've been thinking a lot about you two. About how much pain you caused Holo. And I realized… you've never had to answer for it. No consequences, no accountability. That's not fair, is it?"
The father growled something incomprehensible through the gag, his face turning red with anger. Trixie tilted her head, her smile widening.
"Oh, don't worry," she said. "You'll get your chance to speak. But first, I think it's time you learned what it feels like to be powerless. To have someone else decide your fate."
She leaned back in her chair, her green eyes glinting with malice. "Now, let's get started, shall we?"
The basement was dimly lit, the only sound the muffled groans of Holo's parents as they struggled against their restraints. Trixie sat in her chair, her green eyes gleaming with malicious intent. She crossed her legs, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the armrest as she studied the two people before her—the people who had caused Holo so much pain.
For a moment, she simply watched them, her lips curling into a small smile. Then, she stood, her boots clicking softly against the concrete floor as she approached them.
"You know," she began, her voice calm but laced with an undercurrent of menace, "Holo never told me much about his childhood at first. I had to piece it together little by little. But once I learned the truth… oh, I knew I had to meet you two."
Holo's father glared at her, his muffled curses barely audible through the gag. His wife squirmed in her chair, tears streaming down her face as she tried to plead for mercy. Trixie's smile widened, but her eyes remained cold.
"Holo's a special person," she continued, circling them slowly. "He's kind. Gentle. He's the kind of person who sees the good in everyone, even when they don't deserve it. Like you two."
She stopped in front of them, placing her hands on her hips as she leaned in slightly. "But me? I'm not like Holo. I don't see the good in people like you. All I see are two pathetic excuses for parents who broke their own child. And now, you're going to pay for it."
She straightened, her smile taking on a sadistic edge. "Do you know why I love Holo so much?" she asked, her tone almost conversational. "It's because he's the only one who ever saw me for who I really am. My strength, my wildness—he didn't fear it. He admired it. And now, I'm going to use that strength to protect him."
Without another word, Trixie stepped forward, her movements deliberate and precise. She reached for Holo's father first, gripping his head with both hands. He thrashed and cursed, but he was powerless against her. With a sudden, sickening sound, she ripped one of his ears clean off, holding the bloody piece of flesh up for him to see.
His muffled screams filled the room as his head whipped back in agony, blood pouring down the side of his face. His wife's eyes widened in terror as she watched Trixie toss the ear onto the floor like trash.
"Shh," Trixie whispered, crouching down to look him in the eye. "No one's going to hear you. No one's going to save you."
She turned to his wife next, gripping her head with the same unrelenting force. The woman tried to shake her head, tried to beg through the gag, but Trixie didn't hesitate. With the same brutal strength, she ripped off one of her ears, tossing it to the ground alongside her husband's.
The woman's muffled screams were pitiful, tears streaming down her face as blood poured from the wound. Trixie wiped her hands on her jacket, her green eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
"Oh, don't look at me like that," she said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. "This is nothing compared to what you did to Holo. You think a little pain is going to make up for years of abuse? Think again."
She returned her attention to Holo's father, her smile fading as her expression hardened. "You've done enough talking," she said coldly. "Now it's time for me to show you what real strength looks like."
With a sickening crunch, Trixie grabbed his arm and twisted it, pulling with enough force to rip it from its socket. Blood spurted from the wound as the man howled in agony, his body convulsing in the chair.
"Oh, don't be such a baby," Trixie said, rolling her eyes. She struck him across the face with her fist, the impact causing his head to snap to the side. "You should be grateful I'm letting you live this long."
She turned to his wife next, her expression cold and unfeeling. "Don't think I forgot about you," she said, her voice a low growl. The woman whimpered, her body trembling as Trixie grabbed her leg. With a single, brutal motion, she ripped it off, tossing it to the side like a broken toy.
The woman's muffled screams filled the air, her eyes rolling back in her head as she teetered on the edge of unconsciousness. But Trixie wasn't done. She grabbed her other leg, repeating the process with the same unrelenting precision.
By the time she was finished, both of Holo's parents were barely conscious, their bodies slumped in their chairs as blood pooled beneath them. Trixie stood over them, her chest heaving as she wiped her hands on her jacket.
"You're pathetic," she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. "You broke Holo down until he thought he was worthless. You made him feel like he had no one. But guess what? He has me now. He has us. And we're not going to let anyone hurt him ever again."
She pulled out her phone, her smile returning as she opened the voice recorder app. "Now, you're going to apologize to him," she said, her tone deceptively sweet. "And you're going to mean it. Or else…"
Holo's father groaned, his head lolling to the side. His wife's eyes fluttered open, her gaze unfocused. Neither of them responded.
Trixie's smile faltered, and she crouched down in front of them, her eyes narrowing. "I wasn't asking," she said, her voice cold. "Apologize. Now."
When they still didn't respond, she grabbed the father's remaining arm, twisting it painfully. He let out a choked cry, his head snapping up as his eyes filled with terror.
"Say it," Trixie hissed, her voice low and menacing. "Tell him you're sorry. Tell him you're the worthless ones—not him."
Finally, they relented. Their voices were weak and trembling as they stammered out an apology, their words slurred and broken. Trixie recorded every word, her smile widening with satisfaction.
When they finished, she stood and crossed her arms, looking down at them with a mixture of disdain and triumph. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"
She stopped the recording and slipped her phone back into her pocket. "Now," she said, her tone light and cheerful, "I think I'll sit here for a while and watch you bleed out. It's the least you deserve."
As she sat back in her chair, her green eyes gleaming with satisfaction, Trixie felt no guilt, no remorse. For the first time, she felt like she had truly used her strength for something good—to protect the person who mattered most to her.