With a whole load of tension, the mother with an axe bolted right toward her house. She felt like her breath was about to tear apart her throat.
Something was wrong. Seriously wrong. Those footprints.
Alena slammed the door open. It crashed against the wall with a force that rattled even her teeth - but the house… the house remained still. The constant flares coming from the TV in the corner were the only aesthetic that made the room look alive. Its speakers were humming a really distorted melody.
"Don't you make me feel guilty ~ And suffer the pain…"
At this moment, to her, it felt like the song was creeping all over her skin, like a literal phantom. Why won't it goddamn stop? The fridge hung open, leaking cold air. Yet, she was sweating so much that her shirt got glued to her back.
"Kate!" Alena yelled as loud as she could.
No answer. And the curtains remained still, mocking her presence. Her pulse started to quicken more and more as she moved further in the hallway. She opened the doors one by one. Each of her heavy steps reverberated throughout the house like some mysterious drums. And then, like some inevitable segment, those came.
Whispers.
Low, fractured murmurs. Two voices. One of them could've been Kate's. They weren't coming from the bedrooms, not from the bathrooms. Alena turned to the staircase - the one that led up to the rooftop terrace. The railing was slightly wet.
"...Kate?" she called again, her voice trembling. But as she called, the whispers stopped. Alena froze.
They know I am here. She climbed each step while trying to make no sound. But her poor weary heart was thrumming so hard that she could literally hear it. And in no time, Alena's head rose above the edge of the roof, and there she saw -
In the far corner, there stood a human, none other than - Kate. Knees drawn to her chest, her eyes were wide yet unfocused. She wasn't crying. She wasn't blinking. Just… shaking.
"Kate," Alena inched closer. "See... It's me, honey."
No response. Kate didn't even look at Alena. Her eyes were locked on something in the sky that not even Alena could see. Alena immediately looked back to follow her very gaze.
Nothing. Just the wind.
She dropped to her knees, looking directly into her girl's eyes. A steady hand went to cup Kate's face. It's pretty cold.
"Sweetheart." Alena brought up a forced smile and tried to whisper as she came closer, "Tell me, what are you doing here on the roof? How did you even come up here?"
Kate blinked once. Slowly. Her throat opened to say something… but unfortunately, no sound came out. And that god awful silence of hers chilled Alena's soul more than any scream could. Alena's voice started cracking. "Your chair- Where is it?"
That sudden realization hit her mid-sentence. Really. Where is her wheelchair? How did she come up here without that?
Alena turned, and soon her eyes started looking below the stairwell. That chair was parked neatly in front of Kate's bedroom door. So neatly.. as if someone had placed it there with care. And on the other hand, Kate was here. On the rooftop. Sitting - barefoot and shaking.
For a big second, Alena felt like she just couldn't breathe. She felt it - that presence again. Heavy. Unseen. Watching. Someone must've carried Kate up here. Alena swallowed hard and kind of forced her body to move. She slipped her arms under Kate's frail frame, lifting her carefully.
"Let's go inside, Kate," she murmured with a tight voice. "And don't look back."
Kate dropped her head against Alena's shoulder. She felt safe yet uneasy. Her breath became shallow. Alena could feel it on her neck. As they started to move up the staircase, the wind picked up behind her. But she didn't turn around at all.
Inside the house, the air felt thicker. Still the quietness from earlier. But this time, Alena felt like she couldn't care less. Even the chilly humming of the fridge had stopped bothering her already. She reached for the wheelchair and placed Kate gently onto it. She made sure her blanket hadn't fallen.
Alena wheeled her quietly toward her room. The chair was trembling. The girl's fingers twitched once, but she said nothing. Alena slowly set Kate in front of her bed. Her body was still so warm. Alena kneeled right in front of her daughter.
"Baby, please be honest with your mom," She asked in a low tone as she brushed a strand of hair from her face, "Did anyone… anybody come in here?"
Kate remained silent.
"Talk to me, Kate. You can tell me anything," Alena asked again, "I'm your mother. I know, and I should know everything about you, right, baby?"
But Kate's gaze - Oh god, what happened to her eyes? Alena thought. Normally full of warmth and light, it suddenly seemed so distant. Can you not tell me, just what the hell's wrong with you?
Really, one crazy wave of frustration was starting to bubble in Alena's chest. "I am here, baby. Won't you talk to your own mother?"
Feelings.
Alena just wasn't feeling herself. Probably because of the situation. But what she was actually feeling was an overwhelming urge to shake Kate.
To slap her.
To force an answer out. But she swallowed those thoughts down, looking at the clock. It's almost evening. She then looked at Kate again, "Okay, you take some rest. Your mom will take care of it all."
She came out of Kate's room and closed the door behind her. Yeah... this is so stressful.
For a few minutes, Alena just stood there looking at her feet. Then she stared at their hallway. It's empty. In the deepest corner of her head, she was expecting some new movements. The living room light flickered once again. That irritating song on the TV had already gone silent. But the static still hissed softly, as if it.... was breathing.
"Get a grip, Alena." She muttered, "Just get a fucking grip."
As fast as she could, Alena made her way to that small wooden closet in the hallway. She crouched. Her tensed fingers traced the bottom shelf before hooking under the false panel. It came off with a dry scrape.
Dust. Cloth. And underneath it - metal. For a few minutes, her eyes just stared at that beauty. To her, it really felt like the entire world had gone silent. There was only that hollow ringing in her ears that comes before something heavy breaks.
She reached in. Her hand was hovering over that metal like she was so afraid. That just with a simple touch, that metal might end up breathing.
A gun.
It was still wrapped in the same old, torn cloth she had used years ago. That smell - It stinks, but somehow gave her a feeling of nostalgia. That quiet yet monstrous familiarity. She whispered, "Hell… It's been a long time."
Her grip tightened. She didn't even have to unwrap it properly to feel the weight of that weapon. When her shaky fingers were finally able to brush the steel off, the temperature seemed to drop exponentially. And for a split second, she wasn't in her hallway anymore. No... No... No... She was there again. Those nights she couldn't sleep. Those days that shifted her world completely. And the night she swore she would never touch this thing again.
Flash—
Floodlights.
The air reeked of some gunpowder and burnt rubber. Alena's insanely heavy boots continuously crunched against the gravel. Her lungs continued to burn from the dust; each breath felt like a damn drag through fire.
"Officer Alena!" someone screamed over the chaos. She turned - A man - A familiar man's silhouette behind the glare. His arm raised, signalling her to look focused and forward. That heavy gun was slipping from her hands. She, our strong lady, Alena, just couldn't tell if it was rain, sweat, or blood that was coating her palms. Or was it just guilt?
Get it together.
Her heartbeat was fighting inside her body.
Flash—
She was running now. Through haze, through orders barked by unseen throats.
"Don't take chances," someone yelled. "Stay sharp." "Don't hesitate."
Hesitate. The word stabbed at her chest. She stopped beside a shattered wall. Her reflection in the muddy water was blinking at her - as if mocking her. That reflection had her uniform torn. Her face was streaked with grime, eyes too wide to be hers.
"Stop," she whispered to her reflection. "Stop. I don't want this-"
But her body didn't listen. It still remembered the weight of the trigger. Her knees finally gave out.
Flash—
A boy. No older than ten. Barefoot. Trembling. Dirt painted his cheeks in streaks like war paint. He stood in front of her, hands raised. His wide, big green eyes were fixed on her rifle. His small chest with many dreams was just rising and falling too fast.
"He's just a kid, Sir!" Alena's voice - it was raw, desperate.
"Follow the orders. Can't let any of them live to see the next day. Shoot, my soldier."
The command echoed from behind her. Cold. Unyielding.
"Sir, I am reporting again, He's just a kid!" she said it louder this time.
"That's a fucking order! Shoot him."
Her hands trembled. The barrel of the rifle wavered between the kid's eyes and the sky. And she could clearly see his lips move.
A whisper - maybe a prayer. Maybe someone's name.
"Shut up," she hissed to herself. "Oh God. Shut up, shut up, shut up…" The tempo starts to pick itself up. And her finger finally twitched.
Bang.
The world fractured. The smoke parted - and the boy fell on the ground. A small, graceless collapse, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. And then - silence. Except for the song. That cursed, mocking tune bleeding from somewhere far away - or maybe from inside her own head.
"Don't you make me feel guilty ~ And suffer the pain..."
The melody seeped through her skull like poison. Alena gasped - and came back in the present. The hallway still loomed around her. Her face felt wet. She really didn't know if the reason was sweat or tears.
"Damn man... My ass still ain't over the PTSD… is it?"
Then - Crack! A sharp sound behind Alena.
She straight away spun. That odd mirror at the end of the hallway - it stared back at her. Her reflection. Looking pale and shaky. And behind her reflection… a shadow. Sitting. Still. Watching. A middle-aged woman's silhouette.
"...Mother," She froze. "Is it you?"
She knew it was her mind again - playing its cruel tricks. Just another illusion. Another ghost. Another demon in life. But knowing didn't stop that chill. Slowly, Alena reached out to that mirror. Her fingertips pressed gently against that surface. The glass was icy, as if it was biting back.
"Oh, you… Why can't you leave me the fuck alone? Tell me."
That figure in the mirror- Didn't blink. Didn't move.
"It's all your fault," Alena's words came out like some deadly poison. "Every death… those fucking murders… those children.... all of my sins-" her voice broke mid-sentence once again, "-they're all your fault, Mom."
Her grip on the gun loosened. "No No No Noooo - I won't be like you," she nearly shouted. "Not a monster. You hear me?"
She raised the gun in front of her reflection, "I've changed. I'm not that person anymore. That darkness… It's never touching me again. This damn gun -" She looked at that glowing metal one last time, then she whispered, "This curse will never touch me nor my family again."
Alena slowly reached for the hammer on the shelf. Oh yeah. This weight - it grounded her - real, human. She then wrapped that old gun back in the cloth and tucked it under the closet where it belonged from the beginning. When she stood back again, her reflection was still there.
But that's not her - not anymore. It was taller, darker, and its shoulders sagged like they carried a century of guilt. Its face looked like hers, but… wrong. A twisted resemblance. And then the reflection spoke out -
"I won't be like you," it said.
Alena's breath hitched. Yeah... the reflection's lips had definitely moved. It continued -
"Won't be a monster."
Alena exhaled, rubbing her temples, "Yeah, reflections don't talk. Just illusions. I knew it was all…"
She looked at the clock again. The hands ticked louder than usual. "I have to find who the fuck that intruder is. Lys and Kalli will be back soon."
Right then, from the corner of the room, the TV hummed once again, "Don't you-" Alena clenched her fists. "No time for those demons in my head."
She finally turned off the TV.