Silver lay still on the grass, her eyes closed softly, and her long hair spread out beneath her like a silky veil. The sun was high in the sky, shining bright and warm over the earth, but she did not feel any of it, no heat from the sun, no softness from the grass below. She was separate from it all, like she was watching from far away.
Time seemed to stop around her. The world grew quiet and distant, the sounds and colors fading like a faint song she could not quite remember. She was caught between sleeping and waking, stuck in a place where nothing moved or changed. In that stillness she floated in her dream, lost and alone.
Suddenly, a loud bang echoed through her dream. It sounded like a gunshot, sharp and powerful, breaking the quiet around her. Then a deep voice spoke softly, but every word carried weight. It whispered just one word: revenge. The word felt heavy, filled with anger and hurt, like it held years of pain inside it. A wave of fear swept over her as the calm in her dream began to fade, breaking apart like mist disappearing in the morning sun. Slowly, the dream slipped away from her, leaving only a cold emptiness behind.
Slowly, she opened her eyes, her vision blurry as if waking from a long, restless sleep. A wave of unease settled over her, shaking her even though she could no longer feel fear like the living do. The world around her seemed colder, darker, and heavier than before. As she pushed herself to sit up, her voice came out soft and trembling. "Was that our killer?" she asked, the question hanging in the quiet air like a fragile thread. Doubt and worry filled her, even though the answer was nowhere to be found.
Since the moment she woke up after death, she hadn't been able to clearly remember how she or her family died. But now, she thought it must have been because of guns. They had been shot. The killer wasn't alone. There were other men with him, all dressed in black.
Her ghostly body trembled as she imagined the pain they must have felt in those last moments. It made her feel cold inside. She could almost hear their screams, though they were quiet and far away, like voices lost in the wind.
Fear and confusion still stayed in her mind. Her memories didn't come back clearly. Maybe that was a good thing. A small part of her felt better not knowing all the terrible details.
"Did they catch the killer or are they still free?" she asked softly. Her voice sounded small and lonely in the quiet graveyard. She looked around at the rows of silent graves and swaying trees, but no one answered.
"I guess I'll never find out," she whispered.
A breeze stirred the leaves above, carrying her words away like a secret the dead refused to keep.
Somewhere, a middle-aged man stood in the center of his living room, hands raised. His expression was calm, almost distant. Just moments ago, he had been sitting quietly on the couch, holding a warm cup of coffee. The soft afternoon light streamed through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the room. It touched the brown carpet, the wooden furniture, and the man's tired face. Everything had felt still and silent, like any other ordinary day.
Then the door burst open.
The man's grip on the coffee cup faltered with the sudden noise. It slipped from his fingers and crashed to the ground. The cup shattered, and dark liquid spread across the carpet like spilled ink. Then voices shouted, boots pounded across the floor, and officers moved in quickly, weapons drawn, their faces tense and focused. The quiet was gone.
The man didn't speak. He didn't protest or panic. He simply stood there, eyes fixed on something far away, as if this was the moment he had known would come all along. His face, marked by years of hardship and sorrow, held no fear. He looked worn down, as if life had taken more than its share from him.
Without hesitation, one officer moved closer, voice sharp. "Get down on your knees."
The man obeyed without hesitation. He slowly lowered himself to the floor, knees touching the soft carpet, his movements calm and deliberate. Another officer moved behind him, pulling his arms back and securing them with handcuffs.
Charlie stepped closer and looked at the man. His voice was steady but firm.
"Name?"
Even though they already knew it, the question still needed to be asked.
"Liam Carter," the man said. His voice was low, flat, and completely empty of emotion.
Charlie studied him for a long moment. There was no panic in Liam's eyes. No signs of regret or fear. It was as if he had already accepted everything, as if this was exactly where he was meant to be.
"You killed David Rios," Charlie said.
Liam gave a slow nod. "Yes. I did."
"Why?"
There was a long pause before Liam answered. His jaw clenched, and something shifted in his expression. His eyes darkened, filled with pain and fury that had been buried deep for too long.
"A year ago, while I was out of the house, that man forced himself on my wife and daughter," Liam said. His voice trembled slightly but remained steady. "My daughter was just thirteen."
The officers around him froze. The tension in the room grew heavier. No one said a word.
Liam looked down at the floor as he continued speaking, his voice quieter now.
"I didn't know at first. My wife never told me. She just tried to carry the weight on her own. Then I started noticing my daughter wasn't the same anymore. She stopped smiling. She stopped going to school. She had nightmares and couldn't be around people. It was like something had been stolen from her."
He swallowed hard before continuing.
"I asked my wife what was wrong, and one night, she finally broke. She cried like I had never seen before. Then she told me everything."
Charlie's eyes didn't move from Liam's face. The silence in the room was thick, broken only by Liam's voice.
"I was furious. I went to Rios and demanded answers. All he did was laugh and tell me I was behind on my loan payments. He said that was how he chose to collect what I owed. Like it was nothing. Like they were nothing."
One of the female officers stepped forward, her voice quiet but firm.
"Why didn't you come to us?"
Liam turned slightly toward her. His face looked more tired than ever.
"My wife didn't want to go to the police. She was afraid of what people would think. She didn't want our daughter to be judged or whispered about. She didn't want her to be seen as broken."
His voice cracked with emotion, but he kept going.
"A month later, I came home from work and found them both gone. My wife and daughter had taken their own lives. They left a note, but I didn't even need to read it to understand why."
Liam's breathing slowed. His shoulders slumped under the weight of memory.
"After that, I sold the house. Paid off the debt. Went to stay with my parents. I tried to start over, but I couldn't. I saw their faces every time I closed my eyes. I heard their voices in the silence. They never got justice. They died with no one to protect them."
He paused again, then lifted his head to look at Charlie directly.
"So I came back. I bought a house. I started looking for Rios. I followed him, watched him live his life like nothing had happened. And when the time was right, I ended it."
Liam's eyes were glassy, but his voice was steady.
"I'm not sorry. The only thing I regret is not doing it sooner. My wife and daughter deserved justice. Now, they finally have it. And I finally have peace."
The room remained silent.
The officers didn't move. No one spoke. The only sounds in the room were the quiet hum of the air conditioner and the heavy beating of their hearts.
Charlie finally looked away. He slowly lowered his gun and slid it back into the holster at his hip, then gave a quiet signal to the nearest officer. The officer stepped forward and helped Liam to his feet.
The case was closed. But no one in the room felt like a victory had been won.
Silver's death replayed clearly in Charlie's mind. She and her family had been murdered, and their killer was still out there, free. Justice had not been served for them.
As the other officers led Liam outside, Charlie stayed behind for a moment. He looked down at the spilled coffee on the floor.
Another broken family. Another monster gone.
And for a moment, Charlie found himself thinking that maybe Liam had done the right thing. Maybe, in a world like this, where justice so often failed, what Liam did was the only kind of justice left. It was brutal, but it was something.
Liam had known who the monster was. He had a name, a face, someone to hold accountable. And he acted.
Charlie didn't have that. He didn't know who had killed the Millers. He had no answers, no face to blame. Just questions. Just silence.
But if he ever did find out, if the truth ever came to light, he wasn't sure he'd be any different from Liam.
Still, he wouldn't hesitate to make them pay.
Even if it meant breaking the law.
Because for Silver, he would do anything.
A deep silence followed those thoughts, and time seemed to slip away.
Silver opened her eyes and saw the sun setting. The sky was glowing with warm reds and golds over the field of graves. She sat up and looked around, feeling a sudden emptiness. Why am I the only one left here? Is this my punishment?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps.
Turning her head, she saw him again, the handsome young man who came every morning with white roses. But now it was evening, and his hands were empty. She wondered why he was here at this time. He had never visited at this hour before.
His clothes were wrinkled and covered in the dust of a long day. It looked like he had come straight from work. There was something different about him today. He moved with a heaviness in his step, and his eyes held a deep emotion that stirred curiosity inside her.
Silver stood and walked toward him slowly, circling around him. There was something in his expression that made her uneasy, like a man haunted by a memory he could not escape.
The man stood silently at her grave, unaware she was there. His eyes were fixed on the headstone and filled with sorrow. His shoulders sagged under the weight of something heavy, something he carried alone. The air around him felt thick and still.
Silver lowered herself onto the grave, watching him closely. There was so much pain in his eyes. His jaw was tight, and his hand trembled slightly as he tried to still it.
"What happened?" she asked softly. But of course, the man did not hear her.
She had no memory of him, no name to match his face, no voice lingering in her mind. Yet here he was, grieving like someone who had lost a part of himself.
Why does this stranger in life grieve for me in death?
For the first time, the man spoke.
"I am sorry, Silver," he said, his voice heavy with sadness. "I still cannot find who did this to you and your family."
His words hit Silver like a cold wind. Yet she felt a strange relief knowing someone was still searching for the person who had taken their lives. Even though he had not found the killer, the care in his voice brought her comfort.
Silver's translucent form shimmered softly in the fading light. She spoke gently, her voice soft but steady.
"It is all right," she said warmly. "I know you are trying. It is not your fault. You are doing everything you can."
She looked at him with kindness and sadness. She wished she could ease the heavy pain she saw in his eyes.
The air between them was still and quiet. Only the sound of rustling leaves filled the space. But he could not hear her. Her words drifted silently away into the evening, unanswered.
The man had never spoken during his visits, but today, Silver heard him speak. His voice was low and rough, trembling with a fragile kind of sorrow that caught her attention.
"I hope we meet again somewhere," Charlie said, his voice breaking as if the words were heavier than he could bear.
Silver stared at him, her brows knitting together in confusion. Meet again? The phrase echoed in her mind like a riddle she could not solve. Had they met before? She could not remember ever seeing him, and it seemed impossible that she could forget such a handsome man.
Charlie dropped to his knees, his head bowed as tears ran down his face. Silver was shocked to see the man break down in front of her grave. At the same time, rain began to fall, soft at first, then harder, soaking him to the skin.
"I have loved you since the day I first saw you," he said, his voice almost lost in the rain. "You probably do not know me."
He paused, his breath shaky as he looked up at the name on her gravestone.
"My name is Charlie Howell. It was raining then, just like it is now, when I first saw you."
Silver stared at him in shock, her eyes wide with disbelief. She never thought anyone outside her family would care about her so much. No one had ever come to put flowers on their graves or try to get justice for what happened to them. But this man standing in front of her was the only one who tried and he did it because he loved her.
The expression in her eyes softened into a brief moment of happiness, a warmth she had not felt in years. Somehow, without even realising it, she had begun to develop feelings for him. Yet the realisation brought no comfort, only a deep ache, for she knew with absolute certainty that it was far too late.
She stood up and walked closer to him. Her face was soft but sad. Her hands shook.
"I wish I had known you and your feelings," she whispered, her voice full of regret. "But it is too late now."
She slowly sank to her knees in front of him, her eyes fixed on his face as he looked down, lost in pain. She wanted to reach out, to hold his hand, to let him know she was there. But when she tried to touch him, her fingers slipped right through. She was not really there anymore.
Her eyes burned with the need to cry, but no tears came. She could not cry like she once could. The sadness was still there, heavy and real, but her body could no longer show it.
"If only I had the chance to return your love," she said, her voice breaking.
Charlie's head snapped up suddenly, as if he had heard her.
"Silver," he muttered.
His eyes darted around the graveyard, scanning the surroundings with desperate intensity. Silver knew he could not see her, but the raw pain on his face showed just how much he loved her. Somehow, he had recognized her voice.
She watched him closely and saw the depth of his sorrow. The truth of his love was clear in every small movement and every breath he took.
The rain poured harder now, soaking only Charlie. The air grew thick with tension. Thunder rumbled in the distance, low and mournful. Silver watched as Charlie searched for her, but no matter how hard he looked, he could not see her, even though she was sitting right in front of him.
A loud thunder cracked through the sky. Then a bright light came down from above, covering Silver and Charlie. She felt a strong force pulling her upward. She could no longer see Charlie or know what was happening to him.
Is this how she was really leaving?
"Goodbye, Charlie," she whispered, then closed her eyes.