Note: This story contains Homestuck spoilers. It contains graphical descriptions of violence, murder, a mention of suicide, and other upsetting content.
Streaks of Crimson is a Homestuck story I wrote around 2016. It covers the moment where Vriska causes Sollux to kill Aradia. It is mostly unedited from the original.
You suddenly jolt into consciousness, feeling a sharp pain in your head. You try to move your hands to your temple, but find that you are unable to move. The pain increases suddenly, causing you to attempt to wince, but no noise is produced. You jerkily move your hands up to the edge of your recuperacoon and pull yourself out. The slime flows easily off your naked body as you stiffly walk over to your clothes. You try to stop, but your body is ignoring your mind. You use all your force to combat the movement, fighting the frozen spear in your conscience. You suddenly fall to the ground, and the pain stops. You shakily stand up, wondering what has just happened. You think of telling Aradia, before remembering what that kind of pain means. Manipulation. Someone, not something, was controlling your actions. You rush over to your computer to tell her to stop. She has no right to be doing… Whatever she’s trying to do. You are nearly at your computer when you feel the spear rammed into your mind again. You fall to the floor, except you don’t. You have lost control again. You move toward your clothes again, moving much more quickly this time. You grip your shirt with great force and force it over your head. You then put on your underpants and pants, just as roughly. You stomp towards the door, while trying to figure out why she would be doing this. You haven’t done anything to her. Just recently, you were talking about that stupid FLARP that she plays. You swipe at one of your beehive servers and eat a large mouthful of mind honey. You feel your headache intensify as you slam your bedroom door open and clumsily jog towards your hive’s front door. She’s getting better at controlling you, and there’s no doubt consuming the honey helped that. You begin to feel worried for what she might make you do. Your mind races to think, despite the growing pain that accompanies every minute action. When she told you what happened with her FLARP game, she mentioned Tavros’ paralysis, and how sorry she felt. Sorry. She’s not capable of that emotion. You want to scream with rage at what she’s putting you through, but are unable to. You throw your front door open and half run, half stumble toward one of the many distant hives. Aradia’s distant hive. You suddenly realise what’s going on. After Tavros was wounded, Aradia felt extremely sorry for him and exacted revenge on Vriska by summoning ghosts of the trolls she had killed to haunt her. Knowing Vriska, she probably had plans for further revenge. You don’t know what Vriska will make you do. You sincerely hope that she won’t make you do anything drastic, like break up with poor Aradia. You would hate to have a life without her, and hate it even more to see the confused disappointment on her teary-eyed face. You become absolutely enraged with Vriska at the possible intention and use your burning anger to melt through the icy wall holding your mind back. More pangs of frost-tipped hatred drive in to your brain, causing you to let out an involuntary yelp, but nothing more than that breaks through the mental barricade. Your eyes glow dimly as you struggle to fight back, using all of your psychic powers to confront hers. This is the one time you can think of where the stupid hemospectrum matters. Sharp rocks cut into your feet as you shakily sprint up to your matesprit’s house. Your eyes blaze for a fraction of a second and you manage to send a short attack back to Vriska. The pain suddenly cuts out, allowing you a brief period of free will. You use your earphones to tie your glasses to your face. You want to make sure that Vriska doesn’t make you hurt her. You look stupid, of course, but you don’t care. You scream out Aradia’s name, hoping to wake her up. You realise that you have a negligible chance of success, and an even smaller amount of time to do so. You turn around and sprint away from her hive, breathing hard. Your feet are in a terrible condition. You have to get away. You have to keep her safe. You suddenly feel your freedom shrivel away, replaced with that horrible chilled rod of pain. You move your hands up to your head, but they stop after getting halfway there. You slap yourself in the face and stop running. “Stop resisting,” you say in her venomous tone, “this won’t take long.” She’s talking to your through your own mouth. She could just communicate directly with your mind, but she has to show off like the twisted, egotistical murderer that she is. You run back to Aradia’s hive, pushing your feet harder than needed into the ground, further inflicting pain on your feet. You realise with mortified horror that Vriska isn’t going to stop at something like a simple breakup. You’re thankful that your glasses are fastened to your face. They won’t provide much protection, but they will hopefully give Aradia a few more seconds to escape.
As soon as that thought leaves your mind, you grab the glasses and pull them off your face. The earphones are sent flying and you hear them crush them beneath your feet. You hastily march towards the unknowing Aradia. You squeeze the glasses tight in your hand, taking a few seconds to smash them. Stupid weak nerd, you hear coming from nowhere. The red lens cracks and you throw them to the ground in her anger. You can see that you’ll be at her hive in about two minutes. You lash out again against the needles holding your consciousness down. The pain is driven further into your mind. You simply cannot stop what she’s doing to you. Every maddened step sends a wave of pain through your ravaged brain. You manage to regain control of some of your body. You bite hard onto your bottom lip, out of sheer anger more than anything, yellow blood dripping as your sharp teeth easily puncture the skin. Your force you hand down slowly, trying to grab on to your legs to trip yourself. It feels like you’re using your hands to push a spinning tire in the opposite direction that it’s moving in. Your shaking hand moves distressingly slowly toward your pumping leg. Your arm suddenly snaps back and hits you in the face, sending a spattering of light yellow blood onto the ground in front of you. The impact causes you to lose your balance and crash into the stone-littered grass. You realise that you’ve bought Aradia a bit more time, but she needs to wake up and run. Now. You shout her name once, loans and clear, before losing your ability to speak again. You strain to open your mouth to tell her to run, but your hand is rapidly stuffed into your mouth in a barbarian effort to stop you from talking. Gagging, you stumble toward Aradia’s hive. You realise that if you manage to vomit up the honey, you will have a much better chance of controlling your actions again. Of course, as soon as you realise this, your hand is taken from your mouth and resumes its moving in sync with your running. Vriska will stop at nothing to ruin everything. Seconds remain. Tears of pale gold streams down your face, adding to the yellow of the hard beatings she’d given you. There was no stopping her now. You can only hope she will be able to get away. Please, let her get away. As if answering your plea, a light turns on in her bedroom. You want to tell her to run. You have to tell her to run. But you can’t. You can’t speak. All you can do is obey her wretched commands.
Wham. Your shoulder collides with the door, hard. You hit the door again and begin to tear up; Vriska must have given you control of your eyes for some reason. You can’t imagine why, she won’t be able to– Wham.
“I’m coming, I’m coming! Don’t get your horns all crooked!”
You can’t do this to her. Surely, your anger, combined with your love and morality, will be able to stop this… This murder. The realisation hits you harder than Vriska ever could physically. You’re going to murder Aradia. You’re going to murder her, and you won’t be able to say anything. You almost feel angry at her for not running now, but it’s not her fault. It’s yours. Your ancestor was a psionic. The Ψiioniic. And you certainly have some powers of your own. You should be able to force her out of your mind. You had almost forgotten about the frigid icicles that wreaked havoc on your aching head, but you were reminded in an instant st that thought. You squeeze your eyes shut and weep in agonising silence. “Sorry about the wait! It’s just a little early.” The door clicks open and your heart misses a beat. But not for the reason you’d hoped it would be for. Aradia smiles widely when she sees what she thinks is you. “Oh! Hi, Sollux! I didn’t exp–” Time slows to a crawl. You notice your hand moving up to her beautiful face. It feels like you aren’t there; like you’re merely observing a simulation, or a play. In a way, you aren’t there. But this was no play. You watch as your fist collides with Aradia’s face. She collapses onto her doorframe and hits her head hard. A large, crimson welt appears on her head, and she looks up at your face. “Sollux, what are you doing?!” You shut your eyes tight and feel yourself push her back on to the ground. You feel the mind honey’s effects intensify; your sadness slowly consumed by anger. Your lips curl into Vriska’s smirk, and you hear a loud thump. You open your eyes to see your wounded matesprit lying on her back, obviously in pain. You try to tell Vriska to stop. That she’s gone far enough. You jab your middle finger into your eye, but find yourself unable to shut your eyes. She’s taken control back. Aradia notices you not even react to the pain and her eyes widen. “Sollux, you’ve gone crazy!” She shouts, backing away slowly.
She bumps into a wall and she looks at your twisted face. “Are you… Is Vriska doing this?”
You stop suddenly and stare at Aradia. “…no.” She says through you.
You take a step with every word that you relay. “I… Hate… You.”
You stamp your scarred foot into her soft stomach, causing her to double over. She breaks down into tears in this foetal position. The pangs in you’re mind don’t falter for a second. Vriska felt no remorse whatsoever. You stand over Aradia, watching as she slowly turns to look at your towering form. “I know that it’s not you, Sollux…” You swiftly kick her in the back to stop her stupid… You can’t believe it. You just called her sweet, caring voice, the voice that had helped you through so much, stupid. You want to hit yourself for it. And you do. Your raw anger, aided by the mind honey, helps you to break free for a split second, to hit yourself in the face. The grip on your mind increases slightly after that; she doesn’t want any other unrequested attacks. You manage another one anyway, clocking yourself hard in the head. A mark that resembles Aradia’s recent injury appears and you feel the frost warm up a little. Using the little time you’ve bought, you shout to Aradia that Vriska is doing this, then throw yourself backwards onto the ground to give her a chance to escape. You hit the floor on your back, winding yourself. You try go tell Aradia to run, just in case she still thinks she can save you, but you can’t catch your breath. You feel Vriska’s spears wedge themselves into your conscience again, and you spasm slightly from the immense, jolting pain. You watch helplessly as Aradia stumbles to her feet and tears up the stairs. “Why won’t you fight him, Aradia? Don’t just run away from this like a wimp!” Your mouth disobediently spits the hate-filled words. Aradia runs into her kitchen and slams the door. You feel your eyes heat up and you square yourself, staring intently at the door. You let out a two-second optic blast and hear a scream from the other room, followed by a thump. You can’t look, but you have to. Every thought to run away and let Aradia live is skewered with an icy rod of vengeful hatred. You bash into what remains of the door, but your lack of strength thankfully allows it to stay standing. You see Aradia run past and notice a huge gash on her left forearm. You must have hit her. You reach for the handle of the kitchen door. As soon as you grip it, you overthrow Vriska’s control and pull the handle upwards with all your might. To your relief, when you release the handle, it falls down and dangles uselessly. That should buy her a little more time. “You’re just delaying it!” Vriska screams through you, a message directed at both you and Aradia. You wrench the handle back and forth while leaning on the door. Eventually it gives and you fall through, hitting your chin on the ground as you are unable to turn over. You stand up from your small puddle of worthless yellow blood to scan the room for your target. “Where are you…” You coo, against all efforts to shut yourself up. “In the cupboards?” You approach one of the small cupboards and throw it open, revealing plates and cups. For some reason, seeing this reminds you of how Aradia is another living, breathing troll. You are overcome with anger at how Vriska would end a life in order to exact revenge on her, when all she did was send the spirits of trolls Vriska had killed to haunt her for a bit. Trolls that Vriska had killed, and she was angry at Aradia over it! You simply can’t accept that Vriska is going to kill Aradia for reminding of those she had killed herself. “No, not in the cupboards… You’re much too fat to fit in there.” You here a short, sharp gasp from the pantry. As soon as you say that, you feel all of the pain in your head dissipate. Vriska has left you alone completely. You should be apologising for what you’ve done. But you just feel so… Angry! You’re completely enraged at Vriska. She nearly killed Aradia indirectly through you! Your anger combines with the loss of rational thinking given by the mind honey, turning your anger towards the nearest target. Aradia. She gasped when Vriska called her fatty? That’s what she’s worrying about right now? You’re in front of her, obviously being controlled by Vriska, and she doesn’t do a thing to help you. You storm over to the pantry door and fling it open. You look down to see Aradia flinch in the corner of the small room. She’s so weak and pathetic. You hate her for that. You look down at her shivering form and give her another quick boot in the side.
“What do you know. About to die and you’re still looking for something to eat.” You taunt.
She looks up at you, tears running down her bruised, splotchy face. “…Sollux? Are you… Back?” She asks, her eyes lighting up slightly with hope.
“You’re pathetic. Why didn’t you do something, anything, to protect yourself?” You mean what you say, but for some reason, it sickens you to say it out loud.
“I’m sorry! I was worried, I didn’t want to hurt you! But thank goodness yo–“
“Shut up. Vriska paralyses your best friend, and you send ghosts to spook her? You’re an idiot!” You spit.
“Sollux!” She cries out, her face screwed up in a grief-stricken frown. “How could you say that?”
“Argh, just stop whining!” You kick her again; you’re completely desensitized to the violence now. “You’re the worst matesprit ever! You’re just so useless!”
She sobs quietly for a few seconds and you watch her in disgust. “I’m sorry,” She whispers.
You register a brief flash of guilt, but this only makes you angrier. “Just die already! Die!” You charge up your eye beams, blue and red power crackling through the air.
“Sollux, stop!” She screams. You aim at her stupid huddled form and fire two white-hot beams of energy through her. Some of ingredients in the pantry are set ablaze as you melt through her core. You stop firing and find that you feel even more sick, due to the surrounding environment. The smell of burning plastic and flesh combine to turn your stomach. You manage to keep it back, though. You look at your dead matesprit to–
Your dead matesprit.
Your mutilated, wounded, dead matesprit.
Aradia Megido lies before you. Dead. You shot her through her stomach and killed her. After Vriska let you go, to have your own free will, you found her hiding in the pantry, and called her pathetic. You called her fat. You called her the worst matesprit ever. The realisation pushes you over the edge. You throw up the stupid honey, and your thoughts clear almost immediately.
Memories run through your mind. Playing games with her. Being comforted by her. Joking with her. Cuddling her.
You never kissed Aradia, or told her that you loved her.
Her lifeless body lies before you. You pick her up and hold her, looking into her closed eyes. Tears spring from your eyes and drip onto her pained face. Streaks of crimson blood run through your shaking fingers. You whimper at the sight of the hole burned through her stomach.
You killed her.
The guilt tears you apart. You look back at her shut eyelids.
“I’m sorry, Aradia.” You whisper. “Sorry for…” You break down into a sobbing wreck, the same kind that she had been a few minutes ago. You hunch over her still body, shaking uncontrollably. Her left arm moves slightly.
“A…Aradia!” You shout, hoping on your life that she’s alive. Instead, her arm just stops. She’s not alive, it was just gravity doing its job. You look at her arm and see the large burn you seared into it. You almost throw up again at the sight of it, not because it disgusts you, but because you disgust yourself.
Because you killed her.
You hate to think how you’re going to continue past this moment. You were never a social type, talking only to Aradia, and rarely Feferi. His talks with Feferi were okay, but… Aradia was perfect for you. Was. You meekly shut your eyes, as if to escape the reality of what you had just done, and while in full control of yourself. It’s… It’s truly horrible what you’ve done. There’s no way to fix this. She’s gone. Forever. She died, knowing that you thought she was ugly. And that she was a snivelling wreck.
And that she was a terrible matesprit.
You suddenly scream up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry Aradia! Please, if you can hear me, just know that I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me! I just…” You collapse onto the ground.
“It’s okay.”
You don’t know where that came from. It wasn’t a voice, more like a thought. But not… Your thought. Aradia could speak to the dead… Would she be able to speak from the dead? “Aradia!” You called out. “Can you hear me?”
No response. She was gone, if she was ever even there. If she was, you had to find her. Maybe your ghost and hers could meet up in the afterlife. You could be together, without any mind-controlled murdering. It would be perfect. The pantry was burning a lot faster now. You decide that a quick death would be better than a slow one, and aim for your abdomen. It just sat better for you to die the same way she did. In fact, anything else would be… Wrong. You killed her. You killed Aradia while she was defenceless and afraid. You prepare for the quick, painful blasts of energy. Your eyes heat up, red and blue arcs travelling hastily over the surface of your teary eyes. Just before you were able to fire, the small headache Vriska had left behind erupted into a freezing migraine. Your neck snaps towards Aradia’s peaceful body and blast one of her feet to ashes. You try to scream but find yourself unable to do so. A single sentence echoes throughout your mind as you slowly rise to your feet and walk out of the door, robbed of your last chance to see Aradia ever again.