Twisted and Accursed, Chapter 28

“Dad...”

“Taylor...”

“I—”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, Taylor.” His voice was firm, unwavering. For the first time in a long while, Taylor saw something fierce in her father’s eyes – a fire she hadn’t noticed before. It was... comforting. They sat across from each other, separated by a long, cold metal table. Taylor’s wrists were cuffed to her chair, a precaution meant for his safety, though they both knew she could break free if she wanted to. Her dad was shackled too, likely for the same reasons. The PRT wasn’t taking chances, but despite the restraints, her dad looked healthy, at least physically. His sleepless eyes told another story, though. It was clear he hadn’t rested much in days. Understandable.

“You understand? Don’t apologize for anything. You’re my daughter. I love you. I’m going to protect you. Keep your head up,” he said, the determination in his voice nearly unrecognizable compared to the man she grew up with.

Taylor bit her lip, a dull ache spreading through her chest. She understood what he was trying to do. He was being strong for her, trying to keep her from falling apart. But it was too late for that. The numbness she felt had settled in deep, and no amount of reassuring words could touch it. Not anymore.

The PRT could broadcast her face to the whole world, label her a villain, a murderer, a monster, and it wouldn’t change anything. She was past the point of caring. Still... it was nice to know her dad was here, that he cared. He had always cared, even when she doubted it. He had helped her make her first costume, for God’s sake. She knew he loved her, but it felt... good to hear it, to feel his support despite everything.

Her chains rattled as she shifted in her seat, smiling softly at him.

“It’s okay, Dad. I won’t be here long.” She shook her head as he opened his mouth to argue. “Listen to me, okay? I know you want to help, but there’s no need to deny anything. None of it matters anymore.”

Her voice wavered, but she pressed on. “And... I’m sorry.”

She saw his confusion but didn’t stop. “I’m sorry for sneaking out that night. You told me it was dangerous, and I didn’t listen. I’m sorry for going to that hospital. I’m sorry for being too weak. For not stopping him in time.”

Her father’s brow furrowed, eyes widening in confusion. “What? Taylor, what are you talking about?”

Taylor swallowed, her hands clenching into fists. Sukuna’s laugh echoed in the back of her mind, low and mocking. He didn’t care. Why would he? To him, none of this mattered. Taylor could tell them everything – the demon lurking inside her, the ancient monster that could take over her body if she let her guard down – and no one would believe her. And why should they?

She barely believed it herself sometimes.

Her father leaned forward, eyes locked on hers. “Taylor, what do you mean, ‘let him out’? What are you saying? Who is ‘him’?”

She forced herself to meet his gaze, the weight of the truth crushing down on her. “Dad... it’s not just me anymore – not just me in my own body.”

She was pretty sure the PRT was listening to their conversation. They were about to scratch the hairs off their heads with this one. Maybe they’d think that she had some kind of dual personality disorder or something. Maybe they were right. Taylor hoped they were right. But, that seemed unlikely. The thought was amusing.

Her dad’s face went pale, but he didn’t speak, waiting for her to explain.

“There’s something inside me and I don’t know what he or it is. A demon. A monster. His name is Sukuna. And I’m the only one keeping him in check... somehow.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. Of course, her father didn’t need to know about Cursed Energy or Cursed Spirits, or all the other crazy-insane things that Sukuna spoke of that turned out to be true, somehow. “I’m sorry for that, too. I didn’t mean to bring this on you. I didn’t mean to bring him out.”

Her father’s face contorted in disbelief. “Taylor... that doesn’t make sense. What are you talking about? Is this something the PRT did to you? Is someone forcing you to do this?”

“No.” Taylor shook her head. “This... this started before. Long before the PRT, before all of this.”

She looked down at her hands, trying to steady her voice. Her dad probably couldn’t see the Cursed Energies that flared over her limbs, like roaring tongues of blue fire – no one could. “I didn’t ask for this power, Dad. But it’s mine now. And I’ve made mistakes. Big ones. I’m not going to run from that. Not anymore.”

Her dad looked at her, the fire in his eyes flickering, but still there.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said, his voice softer now. He didn’t understand. He probably never would. He didn’t have to. “I don’t care what’s inside you. You’re my daughter. We’ll deal with it. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Taylor smiled sadly. “I wish it were that simple.”

She glanced at the chains binding her, the reminder of what she’d become. What she was capable of. Sukuna stirred in her mind, amused by her father’s determination.

He’s strong, Sukuna said, his voice a whisper of darkness in her thoughts. But he can’t save you, Taylor. No one can. It’s not like becoming a Jujutsu Sorcerer is a disease; if anything, it’s a blessing to be far above these mortals. They’re nothing more than livestock, after all, toys to be played with or food to be eaten.

Taylor clenched her jaw, pushing the voice away. She would deal with Sukuna in her own way. But right now, she wanted to hold on to this moment, to her father’s love, even if it wouldn’t last.

“I’m going to protect you, Dad. I promise,” she said quietly.

Her father blinked, confused. “Taylor-”

“I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through. But this is the last time you’ll have to worry about me.” The room fell into silence. Her father stared at her, the fire still burning, but the worry and fear creeping in. He didn’t understand what she was saying yet, not fully. But he would. Soon enough.

Everyone was going to understand soon enough. Or maybe not. Most people would never understand anything beyond the physical world that surrounded them. Hell, not even the brightest minds were entirely sure of how powers worked, let alone comprehend the existence of Cursed Spirits and freaking magic. “No matter what happens, dad, I’m going to live. But I’m gonna do it my way. So... don’t worry about me.”

Her dad’s dark eyes narrowed. Oddly, however, in his eyes was trust. He was worried, true, but Taylor saw that her father trusted her now to do what she needed to do, even if none of this was probably making any sense to him. “Taylor... what are you... what are you planning?”

Honestly? She didn’t have a damn clue. The whole reason she came back was to apologize to her father and... she did just that, leaving her with a lighter heart. Alice hovered at her side, her blade fingers ready to slice apart her the tinker-tech binds around her hands, arms, legs, and feet. Taylor wasn’t sure what the heck Alice’s claws were made of, but they seemed just about capable of slicing through anything, thus far. Maybe that was another aspect of Alice’s ability, the power to cut anything apart.

It was almost poetic. “I’m not sure yet, dad. But I’m not going to the Birdcage. No one is going to lock me up anywhere ever again.”

She had to be careful, however, because they were on the Rig and she was surrounded by hundreds of heroes – a lot of them were faces she didn’t recognize. She had to be careful. Alice’s time-isolation ability was still on cooldown for the next few hours. And Mister Randall’s next portal was on the same boat.

Suddenly, a woman’s voice spoke through one of the speakers. “Taylor, I know what you’re thinking. But Armsmaster was telling you the truth. There is no kill-order and you’re certainly not headed for the Birdcage. We want to help you. We can help you. But you have to let us.”

“Who are you?” Taylor turned to the speaker, her eyes narrowing. “And why should I believe that you’re not just trying to lower my guard?”

Before whoever was on the other side of the speaker could answer, the lights went out. Taylor’s eyes widened. “Dad!”

“Taylor!”

Without prompting, Alice’s claws sliced through her metal binds, reducing the tinker-tech to little more than little cubes that fell and cluttered to the ground as Taylor stood right off of her chair. She had no idea that would even work. A part of her wondered if there was a limit to Alice’s claws and if there was one, then she hadn’t found that limit yet, it seemed. The room went totally pitch black. The lack of windows and ambient light rendered her entirely blind. “Dad?”

“Taylor, I’m here!”

Gritting her teeth, Taylor decided to channel Cursed Energy into her eyes, hoping it would do something. And it did. But it wasn’t the thing she wanted. Instead of granting her some kind of night vision, both her eyeballs exploded. She fell to the ground, screaming and kicking.

And, at the back of her head, she heard the echo of Sukuna’s incessant laughter. Want me to fix that for you, brat?

Unbearable and unfathomable amounts of pain shot through her head. She screamed. Her father screamed. The doors burst open. And Taylor heard numerous footsteps rushing into the interrogation room, accompanied by soft metallic and mechanical clicks. Taylor gritted her teeth, blood from her eyes seeping into her mouth. She had no choice. Fine. Fix me.

Sukuna’s reply did not come in the form of words. Instead, his laughter echoed in Taylor’s mind, even as her eyes returned. She still couldn’t see. But she knew what guns sounded like when they were being raised. And, whenever guns were involved, her options shrunk to just one. “Liam, protect my dad. Alice, kill them all.”

She heard everything – the quick, precise clatter of boots on the cold floor, the metallic clicks of guns being readied, and the muted voices, urgent and afraid.

Then Alice moved.

The sound was unlike anything else. It wasn’t the swish of fabric or the shuffle of footsteps. It was the soft hum of blades slicing through air, followed by wet, sickening thuds. Flesh meeting steel. Bodies crumpling. A single breath, cut short, replaced by gurgling gasps. The air filled with a sharp, coppery scent, so strong Taylor could taste it.

She flinched at the first scream – high-pitched, sudden, and quickly silenced. Then more followed. Short cries. Panicked shouts. Orders barked in confusion, only to be drowned out by the relentless sound of tearing, ripping, shredding. Bones cracked. Flesh split. Alice was a ghost in the darkness, a machine of death, her claws cleaving through bodies like paper.

A gun fired, its deafening bang echoing in the small room. Taylor felt the vibration of it through her bones. She heard the bullet ricochet off something – metal, maybe – then another body fell with a heavy thud. Her father's voice reached her, choked with fear. "Taylor! Taylor, what's happening?"

"Liam!" she rasped, her throat raw. "Protect him."

Somewhere close by, she heard the telltale shimmer of Liam manifesting – his spectral form stepping into the fray. The gunfire slowed, stuttering. Confusion rippled through the assailants. They couldn't see him, but Liam was there, shielding her father with an unearthly barrier.

But Alice... Alice was still cutting them down.

Taylor couldn’t see the slaughter, but she didn’t need to. She heard it. She felt it. Blood sprayed across her skin, warm and slick, the scent of it clogging her nostrils. A body hit the table beside her, sliding with a sickening squelch. Another toppled into her lap, lifeless, heavy and limp. She shoved it off, her chest heaving as she struggled to keep control. More gunfire rang out, and more screams followed - each one shorter, weaker than the last.

In the darkness, Alice’s claws kept singing.

Taylor clenched her fists, feeling the weight of it all pressing down on her – Sukuna’s mocking presence, her father’s terror, the bodies piling around her. She wanted to scream again, to rip her own soul apart, but she couldn’t. Not now. Not with her father in the room. Not with Alice still tearing through what little remained of their attackers.

Finally, the sounds of the carnage started to fade. No more boots scuffled against the floor. No more guns fired. The wet, visceral sounds of slicing stopped, leaving behind only the eerie silence of the dead.

Taylor swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. “Alice... stop.”

She felt the shift in the air, a quiet obedience in the ghost’s movements. Alice withdrew, her killing frenzy easing as the blades retracted. The smell of blood was thick, overwhelming.

Taylor sat there, breathing heavily in the pitch-black room, surrounded by the aftermath of the massacre. She couldn’t see what Alice had done, but she didn’t need to.

Her father’s voice came again, trembling. “Taylor... what... what just happened?”

Taylor didn’t answer. She couldn’t.