Twelve years after Chucky's fifth death, Tiffany is living in peace with the now teenaged Glen and Glenda. However, things aren't as peaceful as they may seem, and Glenda wants to know what everyone has been hiding from her for the past few years. When she discovers that her father, Chucky, was a serial killer impersonating a doll and that he died for the fifth time shortly after she was born at the hands of her brother Glen, Glenda makes it her mission to find his body and ressurect him, so that she can meet the father she's never known.
Tell me what you think of this first chapter and I may continue. Thanks.
As the rain pattered dismally against the window, Jennifer Tilly sat in her chair, gazing out at the darkness; she shuddered and pulled her blanket over her chest. She was always happy, everything always went her way. So, why was she feeling this way now?
Behind those sad eyes, however, wasn't the soul of Jennifer Tilly: the huge star living in Hollywood who produced many movies and had many adoring fans and - well, let's be honest - was a complete slut. No, she had vanished many years ago, but no one knew of this. They just assumed that she had had some sort of personality change.
Tiffany Ray glanced up, shivering, and wiped away a tear that was threatening to run down her cheek. It had been twelve years since she had lost the love of her life, Charles Lee Ray (aka Chucky) and for the first time she was actually mourning over her loss. She had never intended for him to die; maybe down the long spaces of time she had thought he would just walk back into her life again, and love her like he'd always used to.
Tiffany, you're being silly, Tiffany told herself silently, her green eyes glowing in the moonlight. To be perfectly honest she had never really been 'ok' when she'd left Chucky. Without him, she was nothing. They'd always been 'like two peas in a pod' nothing could ever split them apart. Chucky was, to Tiffany, (and would always remain) her other half. The two of them were inseperable, and Tiffany knew deep down that one day he would be back. Besides, Chucky could never really die. He had told her that so many times when he was alive.
There was a sudden movement behind her, followed by a loud rustling, and Glenda, Tiffany's youngest, appeared out of nowhere. Tiffany sighed, "Glenda, what are you doing here?" She murmered, taking a drag from her cigerette and putting it out, staring at her daughter in disdain. For so many years she had tried to tame Glenda's long, curly red hair, but with no success. Now, her daughter's hair seemed to be out of control: it was down past her lower back. Still, Glenda didn't seem to mind this much; she said nothing when Tiffany addressed her and walked slowly forwards to where her mother was sitting.
Although she was now sixteen, Glenda had always known that her mother had been hiding something from her. Of course, she knew that her real mother's name was infact Tiffany Ray, not Jennifer Tilly, and that she was a serial killer. Her twin brother, Glen, seemed to know something aswell, but the two of them had seemed to make it their mission that Glenda didn't find out about it. But what was it? What was so bad, so awful, that Tiffany and Glen would hide it from her?
"Where's my Dad?" Glenda uttered the words and Tiffany froze, glancing at Glenda in shock. "I just want to know, Mom." Glenda continued impatiently.
Tiffany tutted impatiently back at her and rose from her chair, stalking past her daughter; her stileto's clicked loudly as she left the room. Glenda advanced on her, not giving up, "Glenda! You know what happened to your father! He left us for dead and ran off with some cheap whore. Now, do you get the picture or do I have to explain this to you all over again?" Tiffany exclaimed.
"I can tell when you're lying," Glenda said, glowering at her, "I know he didn't run off with another woman. You've always been so secretive about my dad and now I want to know why. What could he possibly have done that was so bad?"
Tiffany stood rooted to the spot, enraged with her daughter. Who did she think she was, confronting her about Chucky? Tiffany didn't want to go over what had happened. She glanced nervously at the old Tiffany doll she had once possessed so long ago, but Glenda caught her staring at it. "Is it something to do with that doll? You always look over at it whenever I ask you about him."
"I don't want you to even speak of your father," Tiffany hissed, "But - Do you really want to know what happened?"
"Yeah," Glenda replied, her eyes wide.
"Fine!" Tiffany boomed, "You really want to know, do you? Yes, all right," She was sweating now, on the verge of tears. Why did Glenda have to bring this up, and now? Tommorow it would be exactly twelve years since Chucky had died. She didn't really want to go through it now, but alas.. "Your father was a posessed doll. He was gunned down in 1988 but came back as a Good Guy doll, and killed people. I.. started killing with him, but only because I had to. He turned me into that doll, over there -" She paused and indicated the doll in the corner, "- And then I came back, as you know, as Jennifer Tilly. And that's the full story."
For a moment it didn't look as though Glenda believed her. Then, she slowly nodded. "That makes sense. Glen always seemed so edgy about that doll.." She sighed, "So, what happened to Dad? Is he still alive somewhere, as a doll?"
Tiffany felt herself falling apart when she said this, "No, Glenda. Your father, Charles Lee Ray - Chucky, died twelve years ago tommorow. And.." She drew breath, "Your brother killed him."
Glenda suddenly felt hot. So, Glen had murdered their father? Glenda had never really liked him. And now she knew what a monster he was..
"Shit, Glenda -" Tiffany saw the look of angst on her daughter's face. Shit, shit, shit! She was never supposed to know, Tiffany, you fucker. "I didn't - You were never supposed to -"
Glenda stared back at her, and looked deep into her sparkling green eyes. Her mother, Tiffany, looked the same as always. But now that Glenda looked closer she could see into her mother's soul and knew at once that their was no love there, only despair. She had never loved her, she had only loved Glen.
"Glenda, you have to understand that I never meant for you to find out about this," Tiffany's voice aroused Glenda from her thoughts and she glanced darkly back at her mother, "I loved your father. But he wanted different things, and I didn't agree with him. We're so much better off without him, sweetie."
"What did you do with his -" Glenda broke off with a sudden sense of terror, "- body?"
Tiffany hesitated. Glenda saw her bright green eyes glow for a second before she scowled and put of her ciggerette. "Well.. I don't know where his body is, but.. hang on a second," She wandered over to a cupboard at the far end of the room and rummaged around in it for a few minutes before bringing out a small, red box. "This was one of Glen's birthday presents he recieved on his tenth birthday." She murmered sadly, setting it down on the table.
Glenda glanced at her mother, who nodded, and then at the box. She reached out, and lifted the lid off, then recoiled in horror. There, in the box, was what appeared to be the arm of a doll. Realisation hit Glenda before she could ask what it was and she swallowed hard. "This is all that's left of him?" She enquired.
"I guess so. I think Glen knows where the body is, but he's always refused to tell me," Tiffany sighed, "But It doesn't matter anymore, sweetie. You don't even know the facts of the whole situation."
"So, explain these 'facts' to me properly then." Glenda replied.
Tiffany stopped pacing, and peered at her daughter with growing unease. "I'm sorry, Glenda. But I really can't go through the details again. It's something I'd rather not have you knowing." She drew breath, "You should just.. go to bed, now. It's getting late."
Glenda shrugged and turned away, making to leave the room. "Night, honey," She heard Tiffany from behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, Glenda stared at her mother for a long moment, and then quickly left.
Was she going to bed? No. First, she would find Glen and confront him about their father. If Tiffany wasn't going to be straight with her then Glen was her only hope. And if he didn't give her the facts, Glenda would be make sure he suffered.
As she left the conservatory, Glenda walked from round the back to the front of the family's rather elegant looking mansion. Yes, it was beautiful. Yes, Glenda could have whatever she wanted at the snap of her fingers. But no, she wasn't happy. It felt as though they were frauds, imposters. This was quite true, infact. Glenda knew that her mother was impersonating a well known actress and now she also knew why. But that wasn't enough; she wanted to meet her father.
Glenda spun round, caught off guard. As she squinted through the darkness she sighed impatiently, as a hooded figured stepped forwards from out of the shadows. "Scotty, I don't want to hang around with you right now." Glenda said loudly as the other adolescence teen approached her.
"C'mon Glenda, we hardly ever hang out anymore!" Scotty replied, a note of indignance in his voice, "What's up with you anyway? More trouble with your brother?"
"No, it's something else," Glenda replied doubtfully, as Scotty circled her, also getting impatient.
"Glenda," He said firmly, and this time Glenda had to turn around and listen to him. "I don't know what's up with you, Glenda. You never seem to want to hang out anymore. Things are never the same without you," Scotty said, raising his hand and caressing her cheek slowly.
His words made Glenda melt; Scotty cupped her face with his hands and leaned in to kiss her. They embraced, and Glenda pulled away. "I'm sorry. I just have an awful lot on my mind at the moment. But I'll make it up to you, I promise."
Scotty sighed, and seemed to beable to settle for this. "Well, you'd better be around tommorow. I always miss you when you're not."
Glenda smiled at him. "I will be around tommorow, and that's a promise." She said, kissing him again before turning her back on him and walking away. As Scott Densbury stared after her, he shook his head in a confused sort of way; he would never understand her.