title: retrogression

warnings: mature language, mature themes, sexual-ness later on. i'm not responsible for any possible trauma those under 10 might experience while reading the naughty words. & i warn that i might not update for long periods of time lol oops

credit & disclaimer: all credit goes to ryan murphy & brad falchuck & all the wonderful writers of ahs. i in no way own ahs. if i did, i wouldn't be writing ahs fanfiction

author's note: this is an asylum/coven mashup, if you haven't caught on by now. lots of asylum characters won't be in this story, and the same with coven characters. this takes place in present day, bloody face never happened. just read! {and review please *kisses*}

chapter 1

.

Kyle Spencer looked over at the clock on his bedside table. It was 2 o'clock in the morning and his mother had left hours ago. She had gone out with a couple of friends-drinking-and Kyle knew what would happen when she returned. He rested his head back on his pillow and attempted to fall asleep; maybe she wouldn't bother him and pass out in her drunken stupor.

A sudden creak and hard smack of a screen door signaled that his mother was home. He could hear her loud and clumsy footsteps against the hardwood beneath her. Kyle's breathing quickened as he heard the footsteps approaching his door. He balled his hands into fists, squeezing so tightly that his short fingernails left marks in his skin. A cold sweat broke out on the back of his neck. He prayed that his mother would forget; that she would continue past his bedroom and trudge up the stairs.

The footsteps slowed to a stop and Kyle quickly turned on his side, facing away from the door. He tried to steady his uneven breathing and relax his muscles, but all of his senses were on high alert. Adrenaline pulsed through his veins as fear rose from the pit of his stomach. A sliver of light shone on the wall and Kyle could feel his mother's presence in the room. She attempted to creep in, dragging her feet towards her son's bed. Kyle slightly jumped at the feeling of his mother's weight shifting the bed, giving him away. His mother placed her hand delicately on his shoulder, rubbing small circles on his exposed skin.

"Baby boy..." she slurred, placing kisses down his arm. She lightly nudged him towards her, rolling him over onto his back. Kyle stared straight up at the ceiling as his mother straddled him, caressing his face and pushing his blonde curls out of his eyes.

She trailed her fingers down his torso, feeling the muscle of his abs under her uncoordinated hands. She peppered kisses along his jawline, down his neck, past his collarbone. She peeled off her shirt, proudly exposing herself to her son.

"Look at me, baby boy. I want you to look at me this time." Kyle remained rigid under her. "Why won't you look at me?"

Kyle's eyes finally met his mother's, his gaze hard and cold. "Why? Why do you still do this?" he asked shakily.

His mother leaned down so she was eye to eye with him. She brought her hand up to his cheek again, holding his chin between her fingers. "Because I love you, baby boy." She pressed her drunken lips to his, sloppily maneuvering against his still mouth.

Anger boiled up inside of him and the adrenaline returned. Kyle grasped his mother's hair in one of his hands, tearing her away from him. "No!" he screamed, staring into her scared eyes. He threw her to the floor and stood above her. "I've had enough!"

Kyle reached over to his desk and grabbed a trophy, quickly smacking his mother in the head with it. Blood spattered from the wound, covering the walls and painting Kyle's face. He didn't waste a second before slamming the trophy against her skull, over and over, animalistic grunts leaving his mouth with every blow. He slowed to a stop, his arms aching with power, his body drenched in crimson.

Kyle dropped his weapon and slumped down next to the corpse of his mother. He stared into the lost pupils of her eyes and felt nothing but relief.

"Kyle?"

He didn't even move at the voice of his neighbor. He just continued staring into his mother's eyes.

"Oh my God, Kyle what did you do?"

"Spencer."

Kyle was slumped over in his small chair in a fluorescent orange jumpsuit. He rubbed his wrists, swollen and irritated red from the tight handcuffs.

"Spencer!" the voice barked again.

Kyle glanced up from his hands to see a man in a brown uniform staring at him from the doorway. Kyle stared into the man's eyes and thought of his mother's. They were just as empty.

"Up," ordered the man. Kyle rose from his spot, stretching his legs out as he slowly made his way over to the officer. "C'mon, kid, you're not a fucking zombie."

The policeman grabbed Kyle's arm and forcefully pulled him towards two large wooden doors. He opened them, revealing a large room with rows of what looked like church pews. There were two podiums at the head of the room, the larger one occupied by a squat looking man with a gruff expression. Dozens of people rose and stared at Kyle as he made his way through the room, approaching a man sitting at a desk with round spectacles and a shit-eating grin.

Kyle approached the desk and sat down next to the man, not looking at him. "How ya doin' there, kiddo? Ya don't look too good ta me." The man laughed and smacked his own knee. "I'm David, ya lawya. Now listen here, buckaroo, we're gonna do whateva it takes to win this case, ya hear? I gotcha back, kid, don'tcha fa-get it." David placed his hand on Kyle's shoulder and Kyle glared, a disgusted look on his face.

The policeman said, "You may be seated." The rows of people slowly sat in their seats, never taking their eyes off of Kyle.

"Kyle Spencer," said the judge. "You are charged with the murder of your biological mother, Alicia Spencer. How do you plead?"

David rose and began to speak until a weak voice said, "Guilty."

An eerie silence fell over the room as everyone stared at the boy with his hands in his lap, shocked and surprised that he was admitting defeat so early.

"Uh, uh, ya honor, I, um—" David stammered, shuffling through his briefcase filled with papers. "I had somethin' planned."

The judge held his hand up and David stopped fussing, a defeated look gracing his features. The judge looked at Kyle. "Why did you do it, son?" he asked, almost empathetically.

"I just lost it," Kyle almost whispered, his eyes widening at the memory of his mother's hands moving down his chest.

"I've heard enough. Kyle Spencer, you will be sent to Briarcliff Manor in New York, where you will be treated and released when confirmed stable by the staff."

The policeman returned to Kyle's side and grasped his bicep again, pulling him from his seat and back out the wooden double doors.

Kyle stared out the dirt-speckled window of the police cruiser, mouth slightly agape and eyes empty. He watched the buildings as they passed by, never lowering his eyes to meet those who were staring at the car, trying to get a good look at the man who bludgeoned his own mother. Their faces twisted in disgust when they saw his empty, emotionless expression.

"How could he feel no remorse at all?" they wondered aloud. "He's a coldblooded murderer."

Kyle could hear their muffled, repulsed voices from the inside of the car but paid no mind; he just continued to stare at the passing buildings which were slowly getting smaller as the car drove farther away from the rest of the world.

After a long bit of silence, the police officer finally spoke. "I can understand why you did what you did, kid." His voice sounded strangled, like it was something he had wanted to say for a while and finally choked out.

Kyle looked away from the first time and examined the officer. He was young, barely older than Kyle, with buzzed black hair. He had watered down blue eyes that kept nervously glancing back at Kyle from the rearview mirror. His smile was crooked like he was uncomfortable. He looked like naïve new adult, wondering what the hell he'd gotten himself into.

Kyle met his eyes in the mirror. "What did you say?"

Fear flashed across the man's face before he repeated, "I can understand why you did it."

Kyle looked at him a little bit harder and realized he was one of the police officers on the scene.

"I spoke to your neighbor, Mrs. Pharris. She knew about your mom…" he looked away from Kyle for a split second before his expression turned empathetic. "My uncle was like that. He did it until I was about your age. When I turned 18 I finally turned him in. I know what it's like to be in your place."

Kyle stayed silent as they pulled up to a looming building, death radiating from the grounds. A young blonde nun emerged from the enormous doors and smiled at the two men as they exited the cruiser.

"Kyle Spencer," she said warmly, extended her arms out to him. "Welcome to Briarcliff. Don't worry, you're in very good hands."