《The land's devil》 Chapter 1 - Tuesday ¡°I like it.¡± Sarah drew a short breath. She glanced at her old boss, he was smiling like it was Tuesday and the sky was clear. It was Tuesday. The Chosen One was breathing in contentment. One of His goons leaned closer towards Him. ¡°It¡¯s beautiful,¡± he said ambiguously in The Chosen One''s ear. The tone of his voice made Sarah¡¯s elbow itch. Was this allowed ? Are you supposed to flirt with what¡¯s considered the nation¡¯s biggest treasure ? She scratched her elbow. The Chosen One was lost in His own contemplation. ¡°What¡¯s the story of it ?¡±, he asked after a while. Sarah¡¯s eyes flashed with panic. She didn¡¯t fucking know, she was just the receptionist. Sometimes cleaning lady, when she was bored. It was a small town¡¯s museum, there wasn¡¯t much to do. ¡°All of our tour guides are busy at the moment¡±, she said in a rapid breath. The plural was a lie. They had one guy; he was handling highschoolers in the next room. ¡°Don¡¯t you know ?¡± Now He was looking at her. She had read Tony¡¯s - the tour guide - slides once or twice. The details never committed to memory. She only remembered that the painting was depicting a decisive battle between local pirates and a foreign navy. The navy lost. They were very proud to be descendents of pirates in this little coastal town. ¡°That¡¯s not really -¡± my job. The boss stepped up. ¡°I¡¯ll do it, Sarah.¡± He always knew how to interrupt a conversation, neither too soon or too late. Her boss started his speech, Sarah made eye contact with the flirty bodyguard - bodyguard ? Agent ? Secretary ? She didn¡¯t know. He stared her down like she was his husband¡¯s mistress; the itch came back. Do they fuck ? ¡°It¡¯s a great story.¡± For some reason, the way The Chosen One spoke was a bit childish. On television, they said He was hundreds of years old, reincarnated again and again to demand the king paid the blood price he had promised to Him long ago, when the country was formed. The legend was that the first king asked The Chosen One to protect the land and make him sovereign in exchange for a bundle of souls. The first king had planned to sacrifice the villagers that used to mock his ambitions, but The Chosen One disagreed : ¡°All the houses in the village shall be opened to me. I will go and choose one, and the villagers that live here shall be mine to eat.¡± In the story, the house The Chosen One chose was the house of the first king¡¯s first love, the woman he had planned to make his spouse. Not that it mattered in the end, as he eventually married the beautiful princess of a foreign land; but the story was made to be a tale about sacrifice. For some reason, even now, hundreds of years later, sacrifices were still required. After every coronation, The Chosen One would visit the country without a precise itinerary until He found a house He liked. Then He¡¯d kill everyone inside and disappear, leaving not a drop of blood but wonders of architecture as every house He chose ended up looking like an insane art piece. Chandeliers melting into rugs, folded doors into corners, floating kitchenware making up fractals. One of the country¡¯s main tourist attractions was following the Golden Road; it linked every house The Chosen One had ever made His together into one clear itinerary. Some would do it as pilgrims. Fanatics, like that guy staring at her. The Chosen One was only called that in recent years, after the church pressured the royal family to make a public statement. Old people still referred to Him by His old name : the land¡¯s devil. Still, under one name or another, He was still considered the country¡¯s biggest blessing. His existence was enough of a threat for the country to keep its independence, despite it being annexed multiple times before in its history. The people¡¯s respect for the royal family was directly linked to their special bond with the devil. Sarah didn¡¯t really understand the hype. She was a foreigner here. Neither pirates or devils meant a thing to her. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°I think here is good enough.¡± The Chosen One¡¯s words woke her up from her daydreaming. The bodyguard frowned slightly. ¡°My lord, I¡¯m sure there are much better places¡­¡± A sudden feeling of panic rose inside Sarah¡¯s chest. ¡°For what ?¡±, she asked out of the blue. Her eyes met The Chosen one¡¯s. ¡°I think I want to do it here¡±, he repeated. ¡°Do what ?¡± Her voice rose higher. ¡°It¡¯s fucking Tuesday.¡± Her old boss put a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Calm down, Sarah. You¡¯re misunderstanding.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not dying on a Tuesday.¡± She was looking straight at The Chosen One, lips slightly trembling. Something in those clear eyes was making her instincts scream in pain, like looking danger in the face; like losing to it in conversation. ¡°You¡¯re making a fool of yourself, child.¡± The boss squeezed her shoulder, voice heavier. The Chosen One¡¯s eyes shifted away from her face. ¡°I will open the portal here.¡± One second later, He added : ¡°In this city.¡± The bodyguard nodded. ¡°If that is Your will. Shall we plan somewhere for You to rest tonight ?¡± The Chosen One turned away from the painting. ¡°No.¡± Then He started to leave. Sarah¡¯s heart was still beating too fast as she watched Him walk away. She didn¡¯t catch the bodyguard¡¯s glare as he passed by her. Her boss waited for them to be out of earshot before shaking his head. ¡°What a way to jump to conclusions.¡± ¡°Conclusions ? Conclusions ? He¡¯s going to open the fucking portal here. Here. He said it !¡± ¡°In this city.¡± ¡°Oh, because that makes it fucking better.¡± ¡°You really thought he was going to open the portal in the museum ? This is a public space. Everybody knows -¡± ¡°Well I don¡¯t. I¡¯m not from here, remember ? I don¡¯t know what the devil wants or how he operates. What I do know is I don¡¯t want to be here when he does his little magic trick. I¡¯m out.¡± ¡°Your workday isn¡¯t over.¡± ¡°Fire me.¡± ¡°Sarah.¡± She ignored him entirely as she walked back to the employees¡¯ room. She grabbed her lunchbox in the fridge, her bag and her coat. That was maybe the last time she saw this room; maybe that was madness. Adrenaline was cursing through her veins. When she got out with all of her stuff in hand, the devil was standing in the reception area next to the tourists¡¯ info point. He was reading an ad about scuba diving. Sarah avoided His group and went straight for the doors. Outside the sky was clear, the sun was shining. It was Tuesday. She pushed the door with force. Didn¡¯t open. She pushed again. Her already quick pulse became more chaotic as the door wouldn¡¯t budge. Then she remembered she had to pull, and she almost sighed in relief; she pulled. Somehow it didn¡¯t work either. From behind her, a soft voice rose like a child¡¯s. ¡°I think it¡¯s time for a magic trick.¡± Urgency made itself more present to Sarah¡¯s mind and she started fighting the glassdoor like a madwoman. The ray of sun falling down on the front porch was both so close and so far away. Her struggle was witnessed by the group near by. ¡°My lord ? Could it be that You wish to open the portal here, here ?¡± ¡°Hm.¡± ¡°It¡¯s so sudden. I - how to properly bid my lord farewell on such short notice ?¡± The Chosen One slowly raised His gaze from the ad He was reading. ¡°But you are staying¡±, He said plainly. The man blanked out for a second. ¡°We are ? My lord, that can¡¯t be right.¡± The Chosen One stared at him. ¡°It¡¯s too late now.¡± As the last syllable fell from the devil¡¯s lips, everything beyond the glassdoors suddenly turned dark, as if a black curtain has been dropped between the museum and the rest of the world. The bodyguard¡¯s face turned pale as Sarah¡¯s reddened from futile efforts. He plead : ¡°Is there no way for my lord to undo it ? Many of us have families to provide for¡­ We also need to report back to the church, I...¡± The Chosen One dismissed him. ¡°I won¡¯t undo it.¡± From the very back of His pupils slowly surged the emotion that had been lacking from His face. It dropped from the corners of His eyes to the tip of His tongue as He added : ¡°I don¡¯t want to.¡± The smile parted His lips - joy. Today was a joyous day for the devil. Chapter 2 - Death Sarah¡¯s fingers were hurting; her hands were shaking too hard for her to battle the door anymore. She wanted to cry. Maybe she was already crying. Her coat had dropped to the floor at one point; she slowly bent to pick it up and held it to her chest. Her purse was hanging at her waist. Of all the things to be buried alive with, those seemed so trivial. From deep within the museum, youthful chatter was echoing. They didn¡¯t know yet, she realized. Tony, the teenagers, the teachers. The young couple that came with their dog. Her boss. There was life as she knew it behind the veil of a single fact. The discrepancy buried deep into her bones, changed the alchemy of her brain. Oh, to die without knowing or to see the truck coming straight at you. She wasn¡¯t envious of her own fate. The devil¡¯s goons didn¡¯t seem to be either. Dying for His sake hadn¡¯t been part of the mission; it wasn¡¯t a crusade. Maybe they would have agreed to dying this way if they were asked to; but they weren¡¯t. It wasn¡¯t their choice, but the will of their god. It had to make sense, somehow. Right now it didn¡¯t. In that second, it didn¡¯t. ¡°What is the worst way to die ?¡±, asked the devil. The chill traveled from her spine to theirs. They looked like sheep lost in the night, she looked like a deer in headlights. She took a step back; immediately lost balance. The floor was moving under the soles of her shoes. She fell on her ass, ankles deep into mud that looked like tiles. She watched incredulously as the lines of the tiles moved as if caught in a current. Panic broke down her stupor when she realized the level was rising. She stood up abruptly. She soon realized that everything around them looked like it was melting; from the lights dripping like tears from the fake chandelier of the reception hall to the wallpapers¡¯ colors drooling down. Rugs melted into the floors, the floors melted into a pool that was getting deeper and deeper. It was a surreal sight; maybe less for people that had traveled down The Golden Road in the summer during camp or as a family tradition. It was familiar territory until it wasn¡¯t for the followers of the devil. Maybe that¡¯s why they didn''t move - they knew about fate. Sarah didn¡¯t know about fate because she was an introvert with limited curiosity for the outside world; so she tried. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. She walked towards the inside of the museum like walking towards deep sea. Her vision was blurry with tears, at no point did she let go of her coat. The water level - that wasn''t water - was up her thighs before she knew it. It felt neither cold nor warm. It wasn''t wetting her clothes either; but it was affecting the structure of the fabric in a way she didn''t immediately notice. The Chosen One chose to walk besides her. He didn¡¯t seem to experience any difficulty in doing so. ¡°Where are you going ?¡± He looked genuinely curious. She didn''t answer Him right away. ¡°Somewhere.¡± Her breath was so much heavier than His. He followed her for a few more steps. ¡°You¡¯re looking for someone ?¡±, He asked again. He looked back at His subjects. The five men were in a circle holding hands, murmuring something in a low voice. A last prayer before the end of times - written by men that dreamt of the apocalypse. They were soon to be freed of this mortal body and be made part of the devil¡¯s masterpiece. They were chanting softly like it was a lullaby. Despite their faith, their eyelids were trembling. Sarah tripped and fell under the surface. She got back on her feet with difficulty. Tasted like dirt, she thought while gasping for air. The Chosen One watched her silently. She saw Him reach a hand towards her through the chaos of the scene. With two fingers he pinched the cloth of her shirt¡¯s sleeve - and ripped it like paper. She stared at the torn cloth. ¡°What ?¡± She confusedly tried to take it back from The Chosen One¡¯s hand but He moved before her and grabbed her collar with His other hand. They watched each other in silence for a second. She was holding His wrist. He was holding hostage something greater. She breathed in; He ripped her shirt open. Why ? The question started to echo in her mind as soon as she felt the air hit her exposed skin. She looked at Him flabbergasted. He looked at her with a hint of expectation. ¡°What the hell is wrong with you ?¡± Her voice was soft as a whisper. He rolled His eyes like a bored child. Her body moved before the thought formed; she lunged at Him. Both her hands grabbed His head, trying to push it under water. He fell back under the assault. For a few seconds, she was actually drowning Him; then He found His footing. He pushed against her, she tripped backwards. He tried to bring her down by tackling her, she hit His back with both fists. Short breaths, skin hitting skin. They were wrestling like amateurs in rising water that still wasn¡¯t water. There was no witness to this, as the five men had closed their eyes; but it was a pathetic fight. It only stopped when the level of the liquid landscape became so high it reached their necks. They were holding each other¡¯s face with enough force to bruise the skin. She tried to blind Him by pushing her fingers into His orbits; He tried to drown her again. She lost her footing. Choked. She couldn''t see, couldn''t breathe. She was still grabbing His face when she felt the air leaves her lungs for the last time. I¡¯m never forgiving this. Her fingers slid off His face. I¡¯m never, ever forgiving this. Sarah lost consciousness. Chapter 3 - ? It was warm. It wasn''t before. It wasn¡¯t - she suddenly felt something move next to her, tried to open her eyes. There was something here with her, another life in this quiet but pulsating darkness. Another breath yet not taken; yet not stolen. But she remembered. Both her and him - they had disappeared into the rising waters, intertwined, furious like children. Could the devil drown ? And why was she alive now ? Didn¡¯t she die back then ? Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Killed by him. Maybe it was purgatory. Still if it was, how to get rid of the neighbor ? Their smell reminded her of the faint scent that was on the devil¡¯s fingers as he pushed her head underwater. It was difficult to describe, but hard to forget. A very scary thought suddenly crossed her mind - one she immediately shied away from. Her little body shrunk into itself, she stopped her mind from wandering this way. Her stream of consciousness became hazy as she slowly drifted into sleep. Her last thought was a meaningless one. Chapter 4 - Prologue A child¡¯s rambling came to the mother¡¯s ears. Her eyes were lost on the face of her lover, sitting so elegantly under the patio. His grandfather had built it for his wife decades ago, she loved the place. And god, she loved the man. ¡°That sounded mean,¡± smiled the man as the two children''s voices grew higher and angrier. For some reason, the twins never got along. Every time they were together, it was a riot; except when they were asleep. They would stick together like glue in their sleep, it made for the cutest pictures. He was reading the newspaper, she was looking at him. The nanny was sitting in the grass near an oak tree. ¡°Dadadadada,¡± said an annoyed little voice with conviction. Sophie looked at Nathan like he was an idiot. She was keen to prove her point. ¡°Dadadada.¡± Nathan rolled his eyes. He wouldn''t take council from someone that wasn''t capable of balancing a tower of more than five bricks. He could do eight. ¡°Dadadadadada,¡± Sophie went over the incline of the field again and the disadvantage she had suffered because of it. Nathan turned her back to her in dismissal and sat on the tablecloth to start his grand project. Furious, she jumped on his back. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°Enough !¡± The nanny caught Sophie and lifted her up. She was throwing small fists in the air, red as an apple. Nathan, who had been hit, was tearing up. ¡°When will they get along, I wonder ?¡±, the woman sighed as she looked over the scene. ¡°Maybe they never will¡±, replied the man. ¡°Oh no, that would be too sad. They have to get along !¡± ¡°Says who ?¡± ¡°I do !¡± The man laughed. ¡°Darling, I''m not sure that''s how it works.¡± ¡°Well it should.¡± Her concerns left the children as her eyes fell back on the bridge of his straight nose, then lower. She had kissed those lips to death two nights ago, it wasn¡¯t enough. She remembered thinking the first time they met that life would be incredibly unfair if it had made them meet only to steal him away afterwards. But it didn¡¯t. She was wearing the ring, she was the mother of his children. They were bound together forever. She pursued her lips. ¡°Don''t you think the will of your wife should come first ?¡± He smiled and turned the page. ¡°Not in all affairs.¡± ¡°Oh, and what are those affairs you¡¯re hiding from me ?¡± Her voice rose in the air, playful. Nathan was crying in the background, the oak tree¡¯s leaves were rustling in the wind. The two people¡¯s eyes met across the table. Immediately after, Sophie started screaming bloody murder. ¡°Should I go, you think ?¡±, she asked noncommittally. ¡°I think Marie would appreciate the help.¡± She laughed. ¡°That¡¯s very pragmatic of you.¡± But she stood up. She put a soft hand on his shoulder on her way to leave, stopped there a second; he kissed her palm and then she went. ¡°Now, now, children. Pourquoi tout ce bazar ?¡± Chapter 5 - Prologue (2) Sophie was looking straight at her brother, unsteady on her little legs - but proud. Her voice dropped like a ball on the floor. ¡°Ugly.¡± Nathan¡¯s eyes widened. He was grabbing his mother¡¯s skirt, wanting to climb up before this rude interruption. Their mother Anne, sat on the couch, raised an eyebrow but didn''t comment. She lifted a hand to put on Nathan¡¯s back when a voice suddenly scared her. ¡°Enough !¡± The man¡¯s voice was loud - it was unusual for him to raise his voice. Standing next to the liquor cabinet, he put down his glass with force. The two children were paralyzed with fear. ¡°Why is it that they still fight everyday ?¡± Anne watched the man¡¯s back with little empathy. ¡°What have you been teaching them ?¡± She didn¡¯t answer him, her eyes wandering along his back. ¡°I shouldn''t have left you in charge of this.¡± ¡°Of what ?¡± Nathan was glancing between Sophie and his father, unsure. Sophie¡¯s feet were petrified in place, her breath was very quiet. Anne beckoned the child to her. Sophie¡¯s eyes followed her gesture. She took a small step. ¡°Taking care of my own children ?¡± ¡°You should have kept Marie-¡± ¡°Marie is still here.¡± The man fell into silence. Sophie¡¯s face and hands burrowed into her mother¡¯s skirt. Nathan stole one of her hands, kept it inside his. He looked back at his father. ¡°I didn''t marry you for this,¡± the man whispered. ¡°Who cares why you married me ? It¡¯s done.¡± A faint smile painted Anne''s lips as she watched the twins cling to her. ¡°Why ? Do you regret it?¡± Mockery at the tip of her tongue, the one she¡¯d use to pleasure him at night when anger succumbed to lust. Thomas raised his chin, but didn¡¯t turn back to face her or the children. ¡°I could leave you anytime.¡± He took a sip of whiskey. She wanted so badly to laugh in his face. ¡°Any second.¡± Silence filled the room. Sophie was quietly crying in her mother''s skirt, Nathan was eyeing his father as a foreign thing. Anne ran her fingers through her son¡¯s hair. ¡°I know,¡± she said softly. ¡°Good.¡± He finally moved from this awkward position and turned around to leave the small living room they were in. As he was leaving, he stopped for a second. ¡°Don¡¯t wait for me tonight.¡± Anne rolled her eyes. She waited for the sound of his steps to disappear in the corridor before pulling both children in her lap. She spent the rest of the afternoon kissing their faces and teaching them how to play cards. ** The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°The children asked for a dog for Christmas.¡± ¡°So ?¡± She was laying there lazily, naked. He was sitting on the edge of the bed like a caricature of a god. As always, she was looking at him. Her cheeks were still red from passion. ¡°I''m getting one.¡± Simple, really. He turned his head to look at her. She tried not to smile. It took all the courage in the world for this man to face her; perfect confidence in him being in control. That kind of faith only came to him after sex. ¡°You¡¯re spoiling them.¡± ¡°Maybe I am,¡± she conceded. He snorted. ¡°You¡¯re honest tonight.¡± She was always honest, she thought. But tonight she spoke truths he liked to hear. Like I¡¯m jealous of the women looking at you. Like I want you to penetrate me deeply. He was easier to please in bed than in life - like most men, probably. She remembered Marie tell her Paul always complained about money even when they had plenty; it was never enough for him, he wanted to be part of the high society. He wanted something bigger, tastier; something that¡¯d satiate the hunger and leave him waiting for more. ¡°Maybe I should be honest with you too.¡± He stood up and walked around the bed to her feet. Her gaze followed him, the smell of sweat lingering in the air, the curled hair at the base of his neck, the movement of his thighs in the darkened room. He wrapped his fingers around her ankles softly, like tying a ribbon; put a knee on the bed as he leaned forward. He looked her in the eye. ¡°There¡¯s someone else.¡± As the last word fell, his muscles rolled under his skin. He strengthened his hold on her ankles slightly, as if he expected her to trash around. His jaw was tense with anticipation. He looked at her like it was Christmas - expecting her to bark, maybe. She held his gaze calmly. Her chest flushed in the dim light as she felt the chill travel from his touch to the tip of her breasts. When he was pulling antics like that, there was nothing she wanted to do more than fuck him into repentance. She¡¯d show him true love, leave behind an empty bed; then disappear in the countryside with the twins for a few months. He missed her the most when he was guilty. ¡°As long as it¡¯s not Marie.¡± She liked Marie; it was bad enough than he was fucking around for him not to fuck her friends. All she wanted was a bit of decency. ¡°You know her,¡± he added. Eyes looking fiery, his palms were hot. He was watching her like a hawk; ravenous, hungry for the smallest clue of her mask slipping. Sometimes truth is trickier than an elaborate lie, she thought. ¡°Is it Marie ?¡±, she asked again. ¡°No, it isn¡¯t.¡± The question seemed to annoy him, like it was a detail. That¡¯s all that mattered to her, though; he couldn¡¯t see it. That¡¯s why he never won fights he started. He¡¯d invent her weaknesses she didn¡¯t have, and stay blindly unaware of the ones she had. Did he even know her when he thought the twins to be a burden to her youth ? He bent over to kiss her above the knee. She hummed. ¡°Do you want to guess ?¡±, he begged. She looked at him, then closed her eyes. Her eyelashes trembled slightly; his arms wrapped around her waist hurriedly. ¡°Do I have to ?¡±, she said weakly. He burrowed his head into her neck avidly. The weigh of his thighs against hers, the heat of his desire burned her skin. She let out a comfortable sigh. He breathed heavily in her hair, blind to anything but her scent. ¡°Penelope,¡± he whispered like a mad man. ¡°It¡¯s Penelope.¡± She whimpered and turned her head away; he kissed her neck immediately, trapping her under him with all his weight. His hands brushed off her skin to the places he knew to be the most sensitive, suddenly, wantonly. Lost in desire, in a hurry to ignite hers. To drown her into a pleasure far greater than the pain, but that would never come without it - because he needed to stay in control. He wasn¡¯t. She fake sobbed when he penetrated her, he bit her skin. Her hand lost in his curls, the rhythm of his breath. She knew him. Even when he didn¡¯t recognize himself, she knew him. If he had known this, maybe he wouldn¡¯t have lost the war so long ago. ** ¡°Mom.¡± Two little heads wearing berets, two pairs of eyes watching her intently. Dressed in their school uniform, the twins were holding hands - like they would when they were nervous. The dog sat at their feet, tongue out. She asked Marie for a picture, Sophie kicked a pebble in protest. The dog barked. ¡°Come on, for me,¡± Anne pleaded as Marie took out the camera. The driver was waiting patiently behind, looking at the scene with familiarity. Every year, it was the same. Anne would come out of the villa at the last minute in her pajamas, because she couldn''t bear to see them go but she couldn''t bear not to say goodbye. The twins would wait for her every time, stuck together like two pieces of glue while Marie would distract the dog to avoid him dirtying their clothes. Then Anne would show up and beg for a picture; the children would pick a fuss but eventually comply. The dog would always be in the picture, because ¡°he was family¡±. Once the picture was taken, Anne would kiss her children relentlessly before letting them go. Marie was the one taking them to school, but before they all went, Anne always asked the same thing : a photo of her and Marie in front of the villa, to remember. Every family album had those two sets of photos to mark the passage of time. Chapter 6 - Prologue (3) ¡°When did it stop ?¡±, asked Nathan. The twins were standing in the rain, dressed in black - hand in hand. ¡°I have a better one for you,¡± said Sophie. ¡°When did it start ?¡± She gazed at the tomb bearing their mother¡¯s name with confusion. Her eyes were red from crying, her cheeks so pale. They were going to die in this cold - right there, at her feet. Sophie suddenly heard a distant cry. Marie¡¯s voice. Nathan brushed his hair back and raised his face to the sky. ¡°What do you mean ?¡± Right, what did she mean ? Sophie let go of his hand and glanced back. Marie was rushing towards them with umbrellas. From the salt of her tears to tasting iron - her jaw clenched as her own sadness became unfamiliar. There it was, this old feeling of strangeness. This old fury buried deep in her bones, slowly tamed by the passage of time; except when it felt like no time had passed at all, and she still hated Nathan to death, and she didn''t care for the dead or the living. Her father was looking like a ghost somewhere, Marie was crying as she ran. Like always, Nathan was observing her. Pretending not to touch it, lost in some contemplation, but she could feel his attention focused on every move she made, every breath she drew. He¡¯d always watch her, even when they were little - sometimes it looked like he was looking at some kind of beast. There was no recognition in those eyes, just the curiosity you¡¯d have for a dog. ¡°I don¡¯t remember high school.¡± As the words left her lips, she distinctly felt fear crush her throat as some strange instinct took over. Nathan¡¯s hand brushed against hers. ¡°So what ?¡± Their eyes met above the tomb of their mother. He had those eyes again, that look that¡¯d crawl out of his iris into hers and eat everything inside like a parasitic worm. The need to back down was so strong she wanted to throw up. ¡°How old do you think we are ?¡± Her voice was small as a whisper. There was something inside her, growing; his face looked like an invitation for violence, his breath a waste of space in the infinity of this universe. His skin against hers - in a way she didn''t like, in a way she wanted to twist. Her hand slowly curled into a fist at her side. But the worm, her brain kept screaming. Aren¡¯t you scared of the worm ? ¡°Old enough not to play those games anymore,¡± Nathan sighed. ¡°Are you losing it ?¡± ¡°Am I ?¡± There was something of a threat in the way she was looking at him now. She didn¡¯t care about the worm, she didn¡¯t, she fucking didn¡¯t - he squinted his eyes, a shiver ran down her back. I know better, she told herself; I know better than this. Better than to beg and borrow for mercy from a body no stronger than mine, from a mind no smarter. She was - ¡°Sarah.¡± You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Face wet from the rain, he looked at her like she was stupid. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± She drew a breath; held it under his stare. Her lips were half opened as she was about to say something; maybe that¡¯s what caught him off guard. Because she didn¡¯t speak. Her fist was closing on his face before her eyes even turned violent; just as the hit was about to connect, time seemed to suddenly slow down. Sophie saw it all like a mirage. The landscape of the cemetery turned quiet, she saw the raindrops hang in the air around them. Their mother¡¯s tomb, like a block of gray, the splatter of red from the bouquet of roses Marie had put there. As slowly as the raindrops were falling, colors began to melt into each other around them. The sky collided with the stonewalls of the cemetery as in her peripheral vision, she stopped being able to distinguish Marie¡¯s shape against the background of this rainy day. An incredible feeling of loss washed over her, the feeling that she had done something terrible and that it was too late to take it back. For whoever was that picture done, the picture of their melancholy, it was over; the artist had grown bored of it and was dragging the paint over the canvas, blurring the lines, changing the shapes. Something else was to be born, and the actors wouldn¡¯t be the same. It came to her suddenly. Where was their father ? The man she had never missed before in her life, suddenly so obnoxiously absent. The scream from the worm, the scream from her beating heart. The overwhelming grief, and her confused mind who didn¡¯t know whom she was crying for anymore. She was dying. Such a terrible feeling couldn¡¯t be anything but death. Time snapped back like a rubber band. Her fist connected instantly, and as the tears blurred her vision, she felt her knuckles bury into his skin. The exaltation that came from it was maddening, immediately igniting and sparkling into her chest like a birthday candle. She didn¡¯t catch her breath. It felt like drowning, drowning again. Again ? He suddenly grabbed her throat like he was about to crush it. Somehow it helped. ¡°You¡¯re ruining everything.¡± His voice was so soft, like in their childhood. He was using the tone their father would use to dismiss their mother¡¯s ideas, arrogant, condescending. She was sobbing. ¡°We were barely leaving the prologue.¡± She wasn¡¯t listening to him. Her wide eyed gaze annoyed him, his grip became meaner around her neck. He had a plan, before this, a whole character arc. They would have been the heroes of this tragedy, the heirs to a grand empire. If only - if only she wasn''t a creature of stubborn despair. Now he just wanted to end it. ¡°Mom,¡± she whimpered like a child. And suddenly, something changed in his eyes. She had broken the veil of this reality only to cling to it in death. The irony of it was funny enough to break him into a smile; then into contemplation. He wondered, and in his distraction, the world shifted again - from a dark brown mess to the blackest sea. It just went dark all around, no sky, and no ground; still they stood there. Currents swam between their bodies, neither cold or warm. It felt like water, but it wasn¡¯t. She was still crying like a child, and her tears were the only thing that made sense. She wished he would cry too. Him being so stoic made her feel alone, oh so alone. Memories of waking up with his back against hers when they were children were haunting her. Did she need to grieve him too ? He seemed to sense her mind was on him, because he got out of his thoughts and stared at her silently. After a while, he let go of her neck. Instead, he cupped her face with both hands, like he used to do while holding the dog¡¯s head. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he said. Except he didn¡¯t say it. She heard him without a sound, through the movement of his breath. It crept under her skin, she tried to push him away. ¡°We¡¯re doing it,¡± the devil continued. ¡°Together.¡± She barely had time to think that she didn¡¯t want to. The next second, she died. Chapter 7 - The Egg Content. Content. Content. The egg was content until it wasn''t anymore. Because one day, a threat came creeping up by the tube it was fed from - slow, languid. First it appeared as a cry coming from the edge of the world, a soundless wave that stirred its instincts up. It happened once, the egg forgot. It happened twice, the egg forgot. It fell asleep before the third cry could frighten it. And when it woke up, it wasn''t just a cry ringing occasionally from the outside of its shell; it was a boundless silence. Nothing was breathing next to it anymore; it used to have neighbors. It used to feel them in the dark, beyond what it could reach, still as a stone in those black seas. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. But now, there was no one. And nothing would come down the tube to feed it anymore. It waited, because that''s all it knew to do. But time passed, and nothing changed. It was slowly starving, and fear started to make it restless. How can a being barely alive not recognize death ? In the dark, it tried to reach out. It cried a bit, trying to grab the attention of the one that used to feed it. But only death answered. When the egg cried louder, death started to talk to it. But the egg only knew how to fear it, and soon it was too late. As it weakened, the egg felt its consciousness slip into slumber. Its last dream was empty, as it knew nothing except to eat and to fear. Chapter 8 - Tick tock She was humming softly something that sounded like a lullaby, and he kept thinking she had a great voice. Peter liked nothing else about her, but a neighbor had introduced them and he had been too shy to refuse. Then he had been too cowardly to step down from the relationship when he realized he wasn¡¯t attracted to her. Around here, everyone would get married around the age of twenty five. He was already twenty seven when they met. He felt like he was running out of time, even if everybody around him told him that God had no clock. Maybe that was his mistake, in the end. Still he never meant to be a bad husband, and so he wasn''t. To say he was a great one was probably pushing it, but he liked to think he was there. On the weekend he¡¯d invite friends over and help her take care of the house. She never asked anything of him. He couldn''t tell why. Still, he was relieved. Their arrangement was one of necessity from his part, but it still worked. Loving her was easy because it was without expectations, and so he had no difficulty lying out loud to his family and friends. In restaurants they¡¯d put other couples to shame by how harmonious their marriage looked. He could hold her hand across the table, buy her a new dress. He¡¯d take it off without appetite and until now, it hadn''t been a problem. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Until she failed to get pregnant after two years of marriage. Tick tock. He started feeling pressure again. But finding solutions was his job, and so he sent out on a quest. She didn''t say a thing, just went back to baking an apple pie. Soon enough, they stopped hosting on the weekend and started visiting orphanages. He usually did most of the talking. She¡¯d look around with gentle eyes, and play with the children. The only time she got stubborn was the day she met them. One child was busy drawing circles of different colors, the other was busy staring at the first. Peter was a bit annoyed by them at first, because he hated to be ignored. But the children were everything they had hoped for, and soon enough they bought the twin beds that had been Peter¡¯s childhood dream for their second bedroom. He remembers thinking he was set for life now. But then, everything went to shit. Chapter 9 - Her The child was drawing, always the same thing. Circle. Circle. Circle. Something was tugging on her sleeve, she ought to ignore it; she didn¡¯t know why, but she didn¡¯t want to acknowledge it. She didn¡¯t want to do anything but drawing. The noise around her was paralyzing when she had spent so much time in silence. It helped to focus. Still, something was tugging on her sleeve, with more and more strength. She found it strange. She never thought the world would find her here. Since when was she reachable ? ¡°Sissy.¡± An authoritative voice, louder than the rest. She flinched. She recognized it was calling her without recognizing the name. ¡°Be a little kinder, you¡¯re breaking his heart.¡± Sissy slowly raised her head from her drawing. The nun that was speaking wasn¡¯t looking at her, but at her side. Instinctively her eyes followed her gaze; then fell into his. As black and deep as unknown seas. A primordial cry got stuck in her throat as tears swelled up in her eyes. The boy looked back at her with silent stubbornness. She got away from him hurriedly like she had touched a big spider, sobbing. The nun was dumbfounded. Sissy ran to her. ¡°What¡¯s with you all of a sudden ?¡± Sissy was crying too hard to answer. The boy was watching all of this without an ounce of hurt, but a slight annoyance at the fact she had gotten away. He stood up and followed after her. Now it was Sissy hugging the nun¡¯s legs, and the boy hugging Sissy. It made for a rather strange picture. The nun didn¡¯t know what to do. ¡°Sissy ? What¡¯s happening ?¡±, she asked. Under the boy¡¯s hug, Sissy slowly stopped crying. The warmth on Sissy¡¯s back was both familiar and terrifying. Comfort and fear, both safe and found, but she never thought the world would find her here. Here ? Where was she ? The woman comforted the child as she could. Sissy was slowly calming down, or so it seemed; shock was painted all over her face. She couldn¡¯t remember where she was, exactly, or where she used to be. The same familiar warmth was still stuck to her, and despite the limbs holding her being so frail, she didn¡¯t feel like she could get out of this embrace without brute force. But she didn¡¯t have that. The nun kneeled to wipe her tears away, asking her what was wrong again. Sissy didn¡¯t really know. She was just in pain. She wanted to scream; but she didn¡¯t want anything whispering back to her, trying to calm down her anger. She was scared of the noise of her own heartbeat, and those made by the friction of her clothes against her skin. It was all too obvious; to be found is to be dead, and she¡¯d die any minute now. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. She stood still in front of this tragic fate. But time moved past it, like it was but a child¡¯s delusion. She was picked up, put back in front of her drawing. It felt like they were mocking her. She touched the drawing, the manifestation of her longing, knowing the shell broke when she was asleep. Her hands were clumsy, and so was everything about her. The little control she had had over her life was gone. It felt like another thing to grieve, and she was getting tired. Still, the warmth of another child wouldn¡¯t leave her side. He was looking at her like newborns look at people; without blinking, just straight up staring. She didn¡¯t like it, but she didn¡¯t know how to express it. She hadn¡¯t spoken in a long time. So when the woman came and kneeled in front of them, she didn¡¯t say a thing. Anne spoke alone, because she didn¡¯t care for answers, she just wanted to interact with the children. There was something she loved about the way these two held to one another, something she was envious of, maybe. As a child, she had wished for this kind of fate, to find a soul so close to hers she couldn¡¯t bear to be apart. But her mother had told her : you don¡¯t want to burn your whole life down for a man, and passion sparks like a forest fire. You¡¯ll breathe in ashes before you see the flame. Instead, she was breathing in dust. Her house was spotless, there was nothing to do. Her husband hated chaos, so he hated pets; he wanted control, so she relinquished it in the hours he¡¯d come home. The rest of the time, he wouldn¡¯t know where she was or with who. It didn¡¯t matter as long as it didn¡¯t come back to him as gossip. Sometimes she wanted to brew up a storm, be the eye of it. She¡¯d imagine how to ruin the life Peter had so carefully crafted from her soft and boneless obedience, she always thought it wouldn¡¯t take much. She was hiding her spine, like all great wives. She put it in the same drawer where she put her jewelry, rocks and pebbles he¡¯d gift her at every anniversary - like clockwork. Never anything else, because he didn¡¯t know her taste - didn¡¯t care to find out - and he needed something with an obvious price tag on it. Success needs money more than money needs success, and he needed her more than she cared for him or the children. Oops. She said it. Deep in the quietness of her mind, in the middle of the night, she said it. She tried to swallow the laughter that came after, and the confession with it; choked on both. He almost woke up, and that would have been funny. But instead he groaned and turned away, her back to her. That man never knew the shadow he¡¯d cast on her face every time he¡¯d do anything. Hate wasn¡¯t quite it, no, it was something deeper like an old curse. He was a soul she wanted to wrap herself around, in hopes of suffocating it. There¡¯s closeness in that, isn¡¯t there ? Maybe that¡¯s why she believed it was love at first. Because she did. She did believe there would be love and joy there, in the very beginning of their relationship. This marriage had been crueler to her than it had been to him. As such, it was only justice. That¡¯s what she thought as she left one day without a warning. She took back her spine from her bedside table, she left the jewelry there. Kissed the children one last time then left them with the nanny. She said she¡¯d be back at noon after her nail appointment. She wasn¡¯t. Nobody in this town ever saw her again, but the consequences of her disappearance whistled like wild winds through the trees. The storm toppled him over like he was just but a skittle. Years later, he¡¯d only thank her for one thing, and one thing only : to have avoided him prison by telling her mother of her plan to leave the month before. Some people still didn¡¯t believe he didn¡¯t have a hand in her disappearance, and it¡¯d drive him mad. He had no reason to harm his wife, he loved her. He kept screaming it. ¡°I loved her !¡± Somehow, as he kept saying it, one day he realized it had become true. She was more desirable gone than she had been naked in his bed. He thought : absence really makes the heart grow fonder, uh - like an idiot. He believed he was realizing the depth of their love now that she had left, while still blaming her for everything under his breath. The truth is he was only capable of loving people that hurt him, because pain committed them better to his memory than shows of affection ever did. Chapter 10 - Summer Blue sky, burning sun. This summer had stretched into eternity. The neighbor¡¯s lawn was yellow, the earth was dry. Sissy walked everywhere like walking on ashes - her mother¡¯s. Every one of her steps had someone else¡¯s name on it, she was forgetting to write hers on her homework. Mishearing others, whispering to herself like a lost child; old, already, old all of a sudden. She had trouble with timelines because one day, she was a child stuck to her mother¡¯s skirt, the next she was in highschool with failing grades. When people would ask, she never remembered her age; or how her mother didn''t die. Didn''t ? Her father would lose his mind every time she got confused. He couldn''t stand it. Despair in the shape of her, wearing dirty flip flops, walking around aimlessly - for hours. She never voiced the need to end it, but everyone knew. She wanted to. Sissy didn''t have a future, there was no one fighting for it. But she had the present, and she was fucking everywhere, like a ghost hunting this town. She was the most social out of the Williams family. She was at every fare, every Bingo night, every big party. She sat on the church¡¯s porch on Sundays - you couldn''t convince her to go inside but she was there, saying hi, playing with the children. Helping the elders climb the steps. Sissy was doing more for this community than it had ever done for her, but she didn¡¯t seem to care about the injustice of it all. She was struggling with the existence of something bigger, scarier. Fate. Repeating steps. Birth - Fear - Pain - Death. Again, and again, and again. She felt so stubbornly about this cycle, she didn¡¯t let anyone argue with her. She knew. Whatever the good people of this world said, she knew. And since it was such a straightforward path, she also knew the next step. She was born, she had feared, she was in pain, now all that was left to do was to die. She didn''t believe it was up to her to choose the date though. She left it to God. He would find her soon enough; pluck her like weed, then bury her into a different soil - a different womb. Or maybe there would be no womb at all, but a perfect egg. Round like the sun setting down on the neighborhood park. She was laying on top of the playground¡¯s spiderweb like a broken scarecrow. Her limbs sprawled out, her head half falling backwards as if hanging by a thread, but her skin was bruised where it met the red ropes and she was aware. She was looking at something. No, someone. Nate was walking this way. Why ? ¡°Sissy.¡± He called out to her. He already had her attention, it was more like a whim. ¡°I called you.¡± Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Maybe he did, her phone was dead. He started to climb. ¡°Something happened.¡± No, something was happening. The chill wouldn¡¯t leave her, from the second she had seen her brother walking towards her from a distance. She had not seen him in a while. He looked like someone else. He fell silent for a bit, like he was reflecting. On what ? ¡°Do you remember ?¡±, he finally asked. And as soon as he did, memories flooded her brain; the memories of Sarah, Sophie, the very short life of the egg. The absolute lie on her birth certificate, that birthday she kept forgetting - those evasive numbers burned themselves at the forefront of her mind as she suddenly remembered the many jumps her existence had made through time, as if played by someone else¡¯s hand. She saw the landscape of the cemetery blurring as she cried over their mother Anne, like she did in this life. Then she remembered Anne wasn¡¯t her mother¡¯s name at all. The thought dropped on the floor of her consciousness like a child carelessly dropping the ball they were playing with. I guess I never left the museum. The headache was quick to come. But the devil was faster. ¡°I made a mistake.¡± He was talking alone, probably like gods did. She was staring at him, but her vision was blurry. She was sweating all over, from something like hay fever. Fear made her unable to move, confusion unable to catch her breath. It was a terrible feeling. ¡°They told me not to do it in public spaces.¡± She understood what he meant immediately despite the pain enveloping her consciousness. He shouldn¡¯t have opened the portal here. ¡°Why ?¡± She didn¡¯t recognize her own voice. He stopped climbing and settled down lower on the structure, looking at her with childish eyes. ¡°Something dirty got in.¡± He had that worried look on his face, the same he wore sometimes when their father yelled at him that meant nothing. Nate was never sorry. She didn¡¯t think the devil ever was either. ¡°I can¡¯t get it out.¡± He made a pause. ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do.¡± It fell flat. Her next words weren¡¯t any better. ¡°That¡¯s your problem.¡± Are we still in the museum ? Now she was resisting the thought. It couldn¡¯t be. What would be the point if they were ? And how could it be when all of this felt so real ? But she knew she was lying. None of it had felt real. For once, this town had no name, nor did her school, nor did any of her classmates or teachers. She knew nothing about herself except what she knew about Sarah. Sarah had been alive. She wasn¡¯t. Every time the narration shifted away from her, she got suspended in time; and information would only drop when it was needed, inserting itself into her brain like a needle - or a parasitic worm. She was only awake when someone looked at her. The details left unsaid about her daily life weren¡¯t just unsaid; they didn¡¯t exist. In fact if she thought about it, she couldn¡¯t have been alive for long. One hour ? Maybe two ? But maybe less, maybe not even twenty minutes. It scared her to the very core of her very young being. How can a being barely alive not recognize death ? God had found her, it wouldn¡¯t take long for this life to come to its end. She¡¯d die any minute now. She stood still in front of this tragic fate. ¡°It¡¯s yours, too.¡± Would this motherfucker stop talking ? ¡°Sissy, it¡¯s your problem too.¡± His laughter rose in the hot air of this late summer evening. ¡°Do you remember ? I said we¡¯d do it.¡± She wanted to die - faster. ¡°Together.¡± When his last word fell, she closed her eyes. She waited like that for a bit. The sound of cicadas and the familiar rhythm of his breathing. Death didn¡¯t come. Chapter 11 - Sissy Death didn¡¯t come. Still she kept her eyes closed. 21/12/1993 That was her birthday. She was sixteen. Her breath slowly stabilized. When she opened her eyes again, this world suddenly felt different. She could feel the pain from the burns made on her skin by the friction of the ropes, she could taste the wind and her own sweat. She was bothered by the feeling of her shirt sticking to her back, the strands of hair tickling her nape from her loose ponytail. Her fingers were hurting as she had clenched her fists unconsciously as Nate first appeared on the playground, and didn¡¯t unclench them - until now. White knuckles and all of those sounds. The rustlings of the trees, the distant voices, the sound of traffic. The cicadas, still singing. Nate was looking somewhere else, humming something. She looked at him and remembered gravity. Suddenly she had a fear of heights. Her limbs were heavy as she tried to coordinate them to climb down, her hands slightly trembling from relieved tension. She moved past Nate, who glanced at her without saying anything, and touched the ground - it was sand, and it was still hot. She crouched here and put her head in her arms, silently listening to the sound of her own heartbeat. Something had changed. Her mind was empty. It wasn¡¯t cusped anymore by someone else¡¯s hand, the boundaries in which she had existed in this world had disappeared. She was alone in this body. The worm was dead. She knew it instinctively : it was supposed to be like this. Sarah had been alone too inside her mind, and she was the only one that had dreams. Small ones, like getting a bigger apartment, adopting a cat. She knew it was right. It didn¡¯t feel like it. She wanted someone to hold her to sleep. If she was free, what was this ? Something else was getting a hold on her, faster even than the devil. Loneliness. Excruciating loneliness. She was born again in this world just like that, on a weekday¡¯s evening. The fact that it was Tuesday was probably just the devil¡¯s sense of irony. If it wasn¡¯t, she hated the coincidence of it. ** Sissy was breathing slowly, crouched on the ground. This pain was something different, something that Sarah knew about and she didn¡¯t. She couldn¡¯t handle it. She was tearing up already, and it hadn¡¯t been a minute. Now that nobody was holding her, holding herself wasn¡¯t enough. ¡°Mom,¡± she cried softly. The devil chuckled, up in the air above her. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. As soon as she heard his laugh, she remembered. Anne wasn¡¯t her mother, not really. But then who was she ? She had a name. Nobody else did, except Nate and her father. It had to mean something. Didn¡¯t it ? She raised her head to look at the devil. The question must have been written all over her face, because he answered her before she could ask it. ¡°I trapped her like I trapped you.¡± The truth behind those words grabbed her by the throat. Her eyes stayed on the devil, but her mind drifted away to Sarah¡¯s memories. Sarah had this habit; she always knew how many people were in the museum at once. A matter of security maybe, it felt more like gossip though. On that day too, she was aware of every single visitor that had come by her desk. 21. 21 souls, and among them, there was a young couple with their dog. The woman was named Annabelle. Anne. She felt her throat tighten until she couldn¡¯t breathe anymore. What ? The conclusion was straightforward, she chose to circle around it. The devil was just playing with her, because that¡¯s what bad people do. There was no way her mom was just a stranger she had met once. But then again, Sarah might have spent more time speaking with Annabelle on that day that she had spent time with Anne in all of her lives combined. Who were they to each other when all they had shared was implied, but not experienced ? She was grieving a woman she hadn¡¯t known. All of that pain and sadness she had been shouldering after Anne passed away, then disappeared - meant nothing. Pointless misery. That was maybe even crueler than unwanted freedom. She felt the cry she couldn¡¯t bear to voice pierce her guts. Her existence was a ridiculous thing. Sissy¡¯s head dropped. The devil stared at her. ¡°They¡¯re all trapped like you are.¡± So what ? She didn¡¯t really care in the end. ¡°But you¡¯re the only one I chose.¡± There was laughter in his voice. Sissy raised her head again. Then she saw him. For the first time she really saw him - her god. He was looking at her like he had done her a favor, because all he knew about pain was how to inflict it on others. His appearance was mediocre at best, brown hair, a forgettable face. But his eyes were bloodthirsty, his smiling lines deep. All of this was funny to him, the same careless laughter one can¡¯t hold in as they see someone else fall. Those were not his bruised knees, his broken nose. Why would he care ? He was alone in a different way than she was. He was alone by virtue of being unique. He had no equal here, as he had none back in the museum. That¡¯s why everything he did seemed justified to him. He would never apologize for any of this, because he couldn¡¯t be compelled to feel sorry for beings he couldn¡¯t identify with. They were just too different for friendship. Her lips parted in a small smile. Ah, but she would never forgive this. Neither his favor or indifference, she liked nothing about the god that birthed her. He wouldn¡¯t know that; who expects hatred in one of his subjects ? Her hands were still trembling as she tried to offer him an expression of gratitude. How strange. Even if she had just born a few minutes earlier, and it had been nothing but pain, she couldn¡¯t give up on this life. It would have been easier to. But as she was here, crouched on the ground under the gaze of this world¡¯s apex predator, she still tried to please him. All she needed from him was pity - the one you¡¯d have for a limping dog. Cup my face in your hands, tell me again I¡¯m your best bet. I¡¯ll bark if you keep me safe. Just like before, Nathan. But this time she¡¯ll play along. She. Not Sarah, or Sophie. Her - Sissy. As, contrarily to the ones that came before her, she had no pride to cling to. Chapter 12 - Lie Maybe that¡¯s why he had chosen her. She had nothing but the need to survive. She was no one but a slave he had freed from her shackles - he was still holding the whip. She could feel it. He was waiting for her to make a choice : to bend or to break. He had killed Sarah enough times to water down her essence to almost nothing, from dark red blood to the rosy skin of a newborn, even their scent was pathetically similar; but Sissy¡¯s was still weaker. Nonetheless the smile on her face wouldn¡¯t fade. She¡¯d bend. ¡°You should look around these days. See if you see anything unusual.¡± There was a hint of anticipation in his words, despite his tone being rather flat. That scared Sissy shitless, the corners of her mouth dropped. The devil climbed down the spiderweb without another word and landed on his feet next to her. ¡°Let¡¯s go home,¡± he concluded laconically, and just like that it was settled. ** They walked home in silence, her a little bit behind. Now that she was seeing this world for what it was, it was quite ugly. People they crossed paths with were all quite similar in appearance, and it was impossible to look them in the eye. Every time she tried, she¡¯d get this buzzing in her ears. It¡¯d wake up the same primal fear that the worm used to distillate in her; so she dropped it. Instead she looked at the sky, the one thing that didn¡¯t seem fake here. Sounds of traffic could be heard around them, but she barely saw any car. Houses were lined up like dollhouses. Same front door, same box mail. No name on it, though. Maybe no one was even living here, she thought absent-mindedly as she dragged her feet. She didn¡¯t want to go ¡°home¡±. And she knew exactly why. The worm had left traces of its passage, strings of information floating inside her mind like strands of silk. She remembered Christmases spent in misery, her father draping an arm over her shoulders, playing buddy buddy, then grabbing her by the nape of her neck when she¡¯d dismiss him. He seemed to believe she owed him something. It was quite the opposite, actually. Without Nate and her, he wouldn''t be the neighborhood''s eligible single father; he would just be another sad cunt. So really, he should be counting his blessings. But instead, he was counting her sins. That''s all the worm knew about their relationship. Sissy held a grudge against her father because she suspected him to be the reason her mother left; Peter was holding a grudge against his daughter because she was determined to fail his expectations. And now she hated a stranger. How fun. First she was grieving one, secondly she was mad at another. She could feel it in the way she breathed: she was becoming restless as she was approaching their destination. Her palms were hot, she recognized the fire that was burning her from Sophie¡¯s memory. Sophie would have clenched her fists. Sissy kept her hands open, because she knew she had never celebrated Christmas in this life. The memory only existed in her mind and nowhere else. That phantom weight on her neck, the shiver across her back - this need to bite off her own tongue. They didn¡¯t belong to her, she was just carrying them along. It was becoming quite heavy for a newborn, though. But to bend or to break - she¡¯d still bend. Their family house was just ahead, she tried to compose herself. She didn¡¯t know how she used to act around her father, because those minute details weren¡¯t recorded; so she¡¯d wait for him to start the conversation. Nate pushed the front door, she unclenched her jaw. From deep within the house, Peter¡¯s voice came through. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. ¡°So ? You found her ?¡± ** When Sissy saw her father¡¯s face, she wondered if those feelings of anger weren¡¯t older than her. Because that man had the exact same face that the Chosen One¡¯s lackey - the one Sarah had theorized to be his lover. Ah, she thought, this sucks. Maybe even heavier than the worm¡¯s memories, were the memories of the ones that came before her. Sarah¡¯s disgust, Sophie¡¯s rage. Was it because she was too young yet ? The only thing that was hers was this bone-rooted loneliness that was born with her, like ivy wrapped around a sapling. Now that Peter was in front of her, and that he wasn¡¯t even hers to despise, she felt so empty that she wanted to cry. But then he rudely interrupted her. ¡°You smell terrible.¡± She made a pause. Maybe he was hers to despise, after all. Should she be thankful that he was so quick to remind her what their relationship looked like ? That bitch couldn''t even pretend to be a stranger for a second. ¡°You¡¯re not going to say anything ?¡± No, she wasn¡¯t. He stared at her like she was to change her mind. Peter had made dinner and the smell of it was permeating the kitchen air. Breathing in, Sissy only then realized how deeply hungry she was. She stayed still for a second, then decided to compromise. She lowered her gaze towards the floor like a wounded beast - to appease him. It worked. He turned away with a snort. ¡°Take a shower first." ¡°No.¡± She had no patience for that. Her father was taken aback for a second. ¡°I¡¯ll eat first,¡± she added, then she sat down at the dinner table. Nate followed silently and soon only Peter was left standing. Humiliation and rage immediately bursted in his chest. He couldn''t stand a lack of respect - that''s how he justified the feeling to himself. His change of mood was so quick Sissy didn''t see it coming. He turned around with mad eyes, ready to grab her and throw her out. If she wasn''t going to follow his words, she didn''t need to eat. But as his hand fell on her shoulder, the devil suddenly spoke up. "I''m hungry," he said softly. Peter immediately stopped in his tracks. The hand on Sissy''s shoulder was as heavy as a dead body. She was paralyzed by fear as tension built up from Peter''s inaction. He took him a few seconds to let go. She didn''t really understand what happened. No, she understood nothing. She wasn''t sure she wanted to do this anymore. The need to cry came back. Peter sat down to eat. Silence took a seat too. Sissy was bothered in more ways than one. The tacit agreement between the devil and Peter was strange and uncomfortable to her. She remembered that Peter had been at his service in his first life, and she wondered if the devil had chosen him to be their adoptive father in this life because he trusted him. Was Peter aware of this world''s true nature ? Did the devil lie to her when he told her she was the only one he chose ? Sissy glanced at Nate while eating. Despite the scare, she was stuffing her mouth like she hadn¡¯t eaten in days. It just happened that he was looking at her at the same moment. Except he didn''t happen to look at her at the right time, because he was always looking at her. It had been the same since Sophie. Whenever he was near, she could feel his eyes on her. She didn''t know why. Along the way it had just become something she took for granted. She stared at him with confusion, mouth slightly agape. That annoyed Peter. "Close your goddamn mouth. I swear, you''re a fucking animal." Her eyes immediately shifted away from the devil''s face and her cheeks flushed red. She couldn¡¯t see herself to realize this, but she felt the heat on her face and ears. She realized she was choking, she tried to breathe through her nose. Something was dyeing her insides a color she had not seen before - deep purple. In the silence that ensued, she felt her beliefs crumble. The devil didn¡¯t say a thing, and it felt like tacit approval. That¡¯s when she realized that he didn¡¯t need her like she needed him. It should have been obvious. He had woken her up for a specific purpose, but she wasn¡¯t the only one capable of accomplishing it; Peter was right there, after all, and he was a pious man. But her, in the other end ? She didn¡¯t know how to pray and she was so desperate to belong, like all living things, that she didn¡¯t mind belonging to someone else¡¯s plan. When he said he had chosen her, he had given her something greater than a curse. He had given her a sense of purpose. The one she had so desperately missed before, when she was nothing but a name on the next page of a stranger''s autobiography. And now that she had it, she couldn¡¯t do without; even death wouldn¡¯t relieve the agony of knowing she had lived uselessly, shaped and defeated by the same cold hand. Chapter 13 - Sky The next morning, Sissy woke up to a white ceiling and an empty house. She didn¡¯t move at first. She hadn¡¯t struggled to fall asleep the night before, but now she was slightly apprehensive at the idea of checking the date on her phone. She had never fallen asleep naturally before, and all of this was a bit new. This whole room felt rather new, despite it not having changed in years according to the worm¡¯s info. The furniture was second hand from Peter¡¯s parents; the curtains were Anne¡¯s idea. Nothing in this room had been Sissy¡¯s preference - it was highlighted in the worm¡¯s memory. Why ? She didn¡¯t know. There was still so many things about her situation that she failed to grasp accurately. It was hard to move, hard to think, hard to settle in this skin. She half believed it would get easier; half doubted it. Nonetheless she had no choice but to move forward. She finally reached for her phone after a while, then stared at the screen until it turned black. It was really ¡°tomorrow¡±. Not ten days or five years later, in another body, in another place. Nothing had changed in her sleep. She closed her eyes and buried her head into the pillow. Relief made her sleepy again, now she didn¡¯t want to get up. A bit later, her phone rang. The screen displayed a single word: ¡°Grandma¡±. Sissy took the call after a slight pause. ¡°Hello, honey. How are you doing ?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± ¡°Did you just wake up ?¡± ¡°Hm.¡± ¡°Oh well, I won¡¯t bother you for too long¡­ Your father just told me that you two had a fight yesterday and I wanted you to know that our door is always open if you want to talk.¡± A fight ? Is that what you¡¯d call it ? ¡°He didn¡¯t want to wake you up but he feels really sorry about what happened. You know, he doesn¡¯t mean it¡­ He¡¯s just worried about you, we all are. After Anne left -¡± Sissy hang up. That was fucking creepy. Her heart was beating too quickly, she started salivating excessively. Ah, she wanted to throw up. She laid there, as still as possible as she tried to breathe through it. Her grandmother calling to mediate her relationship with Peter was an occasional occurrence for the worm, but she had never experienced it. Moreover, ¡°Grandma¡± had no name. At the other end of the phonecall, that was nothing more than a puppet here to make this world appear less empty - the kind she had met on the streets yesterday, a face like a million of others and eyes like empty holes. There had to be a reason you couldn¡¯t look those beings in the eye; because there was nothing here. Didn¡¯t they say that eyes were portals to the soul ? But what if there was no soul ? A shiver went down her spine. She was feeling claustrophobic, stuck between soulless shells and named pricks. Or maybe it was this room that made her feel this way. This room that had her name on the door, but held nothing of hers. All of this was just a loan - even her life. Would she go back to servitude if she found ¡°the dirty thing¡± ? What did that even mean ? Somehow she wished she had been born from a blank slate, pure and untainted as freshly fallen snow. The world would have looked like a place to conquer instead of a deadly trap. She would have worn her hope on her sleeve instead of having red eyes. She cried, but it didn¡¯t relieve her of the sense of unease that had crept up under her skin. After a while, she got up. Peter had left for work, her brother had left to do whatever he did in his free time. Nobody was there to comment on her appearance when she finally left her bed and sluggishly headed to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later, she was outside again, phone and keys tucked into her shorts pocket, wearing the same flip flops than yesterday. She remembered the devil¡¯s instructions. ¡°You should look around these days. See if you see anything unusual.¡± She thought it reasonable to walk around until something caught her eye, and so that was her plan. With that idea in mind, she started her morning stroll, something that had been in her habits long before the devil woke her up. ** Usually Sissy walked in circles. Circle. Circle. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. Circle. Like that, until her legs hurt or someone called. But this time, for the sake of experiment, she chose to follow a straight line. She left her house by 10 a.m. By 1 p.m., she had reached the end of the world. Sissy stared at the white infinite space in front of her. The road stopped neat at her feet, behind her were the last houses of the street. Beyond that point, there was nothing, just a white void expanding in all directions. Sissy felt something stir inside her guts. She instinctively raised her head, her heartbeat chaotic. The sky was cut in half - like a half done mural on someone¡¯s ceiling. Her voice died in her throat before she could cry out. What was this ? The buzzing in her ears came back. Again, she was looking at something she wasn¡¯t supposed to be. But it was too late already to look away, and too late to swallow back the words about to fall from her lips. ¡°So lazy.¡± That devil bitch was so fucking lazy. What was the point of creating this whole world and trap them inside if he was going to half-arse it ? Was this a fucking school project ? Did he miss a deadline ? Oh no, it was coming again. She started feeling hot under her yellow t-shirt, bones and knuckles cracking under the weight of this absurdity. She could taste iron; she spat on the ground at her feet. She truly wondered: was life supposed to be this bizarre ? Her mood kept changing with each piece of info she learned, truth kept morphing into shapes she hadn¡¯t learned about - colors she hadn¡¯t seen before. The bigger the spectrum, the less she wanted to hold on. All those shades of bullshit, gray mud sticking to her brand new skin when she had never learned how to swim. They told her to call an adult if she was feeling bad. Well, she was feeling like shit. But every number in her phone lead to an headache. She hugged herself but that wasn¡¯t for comfort. She felt like she was going to jump out of her own skin - a pointless escape. She could see her arteries exploding when her blood would get tired of keeping alive a body that served no purpose. She should have be born and died the same day; she would have died ignorant but hopeful there was something more, something to bite into. There wasn¡¯t. The only dirty thing stuck in this realm was its very architect. And she had no mission. No, maybe she did, at the very beginning. After all, they never left the museum. The devil had just took everything inside and repurposed it - but to what end ? That was the only thing she had no answer for, or maybe the only answer worth knowing. Nothing else mattered really. And now, she was like the devil¡¯s retainers before they drowned on the fatidic day the portal opened - like Peter. Praying for a meaningful heaven. One that would reunite them with their loved ones, that could give them back their youth. A paradise pure enough to justify death and the loneliness of their agony. Sissy stared at the cut in the sky for a long time. How strange to pray when god was one call away, she finally thought. She fished the phone out of her pocket and dialed Nate¡¯s number. The devil picked up after the third ring. Sissy cut to the chase as soon as she heard his voice. ¡°Hey.¡± ¡°So what¡¯s the point ?¡± ¡°Hm ?¡± ¡°Tell me there¡¯s a point.¡± The devil was a bit confused. ¡°To what ?¡± ¡°To this, to all of this.¡± It sounded like she was begging; it sounded like someone else''s voice. ¡°Why did you open the portal ?¡± ¡°Why not ?¡± Sissy¡¯s expression fell. ¡°So just because you could ?¡± ¡°Sissy, do you daydream before falling asleep ?¡± ¡°What ?¡± Sissy thought she had misheard him for a second. ¡°What ?¡±, she repeated. ¡°I do. I like it.¡± There was a strange softness in the devil¡¯s voice. Sissy was slightly frowning. ¡°I don¡¯t get it.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll go to sleep soon.¡± Sissy blinked. ¡°I¡¯m just having fun before it happens.¡± Sissy blinked again, because there was something in her eyes. It took her a while to find her voice again. ¡°That¡¯s it ?¡± ¡°Yeah. Did you eat ? I¡¯m on my way home, I can grab you something.¡± Silence fell. The thought crossed her mind: it had been less than 24 hours, and she wanted to die again. That¡¯s not what she said though. ¡°No thanks,¡± she heard herself mutter. Shortly after, the devil hang up and she stayed there, on the edge of the world, wondering if the void would take her if she offered herself to it. Somehow she wished she had born from this white space; from a blank page, untouched yet - like freshly fallen snow. She would have found a way to twist this life into a great challenge, she would have built hope from broken fragments. But she was dirty already, because she had lived once, or twice, and death leaves an imprint. After that, you remember absolutes. Like there was absolutely no way this world held anything but false promises seeing the way it was shaped. There was no space for ambition in this fish bowl. And now she wasn¡¯t special anymore; she was just another sad cunt stuck in a reality she had no control over and, if given the opportunity, she was pretty sure her own blood would leave her for better prospects. She could cut her finger and bleed to death. She could stay here and wait for her father to treat her like a runaway. He¡¯d probably call the police on her, and everyone would get mad at her instead of being upset at the cut in the sky. She could do that. But instead she turned heels. As she walked away, she wondered what could be dirtier than the devil¡¯s habits. Chapter 14 - Ice cream But then she thought twice about it. A daydream, uh ? What was the devil dreaming about ? Sissy realized she didn¡¯t know much about Nate. According to the worm, they had grown distant since their mother left and communication between the siblings had slowly died out. The worm¡¯s description of their relationship was rather straightforward. Nate still cared deeply about his little sister but couldn¡¯t show it due to Peter¡¯s meddling. Sissy viewed her older brother as her father¡¯s little prot¨¦g¨¦ and was both envious of their bond and profoundly hurt by it. She felt like Nate had betrayed her by siding with his father. Nate, on the other end, wanted nothing more than to leave this house and be free of his father¡¯s influence. Sissy held back a frown. What influence could Peter possibly hold on this world¡¯s mastermind ? The devil had chosen to be a victim in his own scenario. There had to be a kick to it. She tried to remember what Sarah¡¯s daydreams looked like. As memories started to come to mind, she suddenly decided to shift her focus somewhere else. Somehow those memories made her feel uneasy - a slave bought by a fucking duke ? Are you serious ? An emperor falling for a maid ? Was power imbalance in relationships a common fetish ? She had questions, and she wanted none of the answers. The thought crossed her mind like a shooting star. Was Nate in a relationship ? Her mind dove deeper into the rabbit¡¯s hole. Was this world a badly made stage for a love story ? Sissy stopped walking. Really ? Was the devil dreaming about love ? What about loving this lowly one enough to let her go ? Fuck, don¡¯t - she caught herself. Sissy felt those parasitic thoughts she had sometimes would be the end of her. She needed to stay calm. The material she was born from was corrupted, but her mind itself was clear. There was only one path forward. Find the ¡°dirty thing¡±. She abruptly realized she had never asked the devil what he meant by that. Somehow she felt like he wouldn¡¯t tell her if she asked. Then how to find it ? She started walking again. She let her mind wander for a while, not settling on anything in particular. Eventually hunger showed itself again. Sissy didn¡¯t have the habit of eating, so she hadn¡¯t had breakfast this morning. She deeply regretted it on the way home. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ** She had grabbed ice cream on the way. This world had too many ice cream trucks - and no proper currency. She had found a couple of coins deep in her pocket, they were smooth of any marking. The ice cream guy didn¡¯t count them. She just dropped it in his hand and the transaction was over. Then she had to wait for a bit; she tried not to stare at him. When he finally handed her the ice cream, she barely said ¡°thanks¡± before leaving. Creepy things were creepy. When Sissy finally neared her home, she saw someone rushing out the front door. That wasn¡¯t her father from looks alone. She was too far to see their face but it looked like a boy Nate¡¯s age. The frown she held back earlier came back. She was trying not to let emotions show on her face anymore, so she lowered her head and walked the rest of the way home staring at her own feet. When she put her sticky fingers on the handle, Nate suddenly opened the front door - tears in his eyes. Her whole face twisted. The devil¡¯s expression of pain immediately dissipated; fear flashed in his eyes. He avoided her gaze. ¡°You came home early,¡± he said while raising a hand to hide his face. ¡°Not really.¡± What the fuck ? Sissy¡¯s whole body was tense. She found it hard just to speak; at the same time, she found it hard not to. ¡°So that¡¯s your taste ?¡± The words escaped her as if waved out of her mouth by a magic spell. ¡°Does Peter know ?¡± The devil finally met her eyes. ¡°He doesn¡¯t need to.¡± ¡°Maybe he does.¡± They stared at each other for a while. Something slowly shifted in the devil¡¯s eyes; his fearful and confused look changed to one of subtle appreciation. His whole demeanor changed along. Sissy was stuck on the same page. So he was really fucking Peter back then ? The devil cupped her face with both hands. ¡°Did you eat ?¡±, he laughed in a short breath. ¡°Hm.¡± ¡°Really ?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Sissy admitted. A love story. This really was a love story. This world was built from the devil''s romantic delusions. Worst, it involved minors. What was she doing here ? ¡°I¡¯ll make you something.¡± In Sophie¡¯s life, Nathan always wanted to be the one to feed the dog. The memory flashed through her mind as she stayed there, a blank look on her face from shock. Finally she moved. ¡°Okay,¡± she mumbled while taking Nate¡¯s hands off her face. ¡°It won¡¯t take long.¡± ¡°Okay.¡± The devil smiled. ¡°You¡¯re so easy.¡± Fuck you. Chapter 15 - Womb She ate, then she ran like a headless chicken to her birthplace - seeking the egg, or any womb wide enough to hide her whole. She went back to the playground, back to the spiderweb. Then she climbed to the highest point despite being afraid. She knew the sky was a lie, she just wanted to feel the wind. Cicadas in her ears and the breeze cooling down the sweat on her nape. Her hair was slightly damp, she wiped off her forehead with her t-shirt. Every time something weird happened, she was leaking some fluid. Maybe next time it would be blood. Semen ? No, wrong anatomy. She thought for a second. Did she even have a vagina ? She froze in place. Then melted away. Falling like a light spring rain over the playground. Some people looked up to see the child crying alone at the top of the world. There were still a few people here in the park. Walking couples, some elderly. Teenagers hanging together, chatting about nothing much but giggling all the way. There were not a lot of things to worry about for the puppets of this world. Like flowers, they belonged simply by existing. Handmade by god¡¯s hand, unaware of their fortune. Sissy wasn¡¯t handmade. She had been carved into flesh. And now she was dripping. Blood, sweat, not semen. Saliva ? Did they kiss - left alone in their father¡¯s house, away from people¡¯s gaze ? Could she kiss someone too, even though she didn''t have genitals ? It felt a bit pointless. Did the devil have genitals ? Now she didn''t like that thought at all. How dare he. Weren¡¯t all beings born equal ? It was in the fucking constitution. No, you could kiss someone without genitals. Who cares ? It was a tender gesture. Not everything leads to sex. Right ? We were civilized people, except she barely was someone at all. How could he forget to give her genitals ? Did it not matter to him - or to the story ? Was she like the sky, a convenient prop ? A pure expanse of blue. A useful name on the next page of someone else¡¯s autobiography. Why did she act like she cared earlier ? She didn¡¯t. Hell, he could show off his genitals to everyone if he wanted, it wasn¡¯t her business - though it was still gross to think about it. She couldn¡¯t remember why she talked about Peter. If Peter fucking had genitals and she didn''t -Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. As she was ranting in her mind, something slowly shifted. Sissy smelled the change in the air before she felt it. A taste of sulfur. Her whole body gradually tensed up as she focused her attention to her surroundings. But nothing was out of place. Same sounds, same late summer heat. There was a faint laughter echoing at the edge of her perception. She didn''t know the sound of her own laugh, she suddenly thought. Then she let the thought go, only for it to coil around her like a snake. The laughter that she thought distant edged closer. Maybe she should laugh, just to see. Sissy opened her lips. She just wanted to try once. What came out of her mouth was a sharp cry. Immediately after, her hand burst open in front of her. Blood gushed out, pain flickered in her wide opened eyes. The silence of her stunned mind deepened as the outside world became louder. Someone called out to her. ¡°Did you hurt yourself, child ?¡± Did she ? Her palm was cut in half as if she had met a knife, oozing blood. ¡°Come down now, we need to take you to the ER." ¡°What happened ?¡± ¡°Why are you asking me ?¡± The woman¡¯s tone was both worried and condescending. Sissy looked at her. That was a puppet, for sure, but for some reason she could look at her without that creeping feeling of unease. Actually it was quite the opposite. She felt better after meeting the woman¡¯s eyes. It was fine now. Still she shouldn''t try to laugh again in the future, it was dangerous. They did say some neighborhood kids got hurt on the playground before. Maybe the same thing happened to them. Or maybe they got cut on the metallic parts of the spiderweb¡¯s structure, as some of those edges were rather sharp. Who knows ? Sissy didn''t. She climbed down with difficulty, keeping her bloody hand away from the ropes and holding back groans of pain. The woman¡¯s warm hands fell on her shoulders as she reached the ground and it lightened her mood. She was fine now. The medical staff wasn''t so happy when they saw her open wound. At some point someone called Peter. Nate showed up. He stroked her back like she was some kind of cat. The whole time Sissy had that strange aftertaste on the tip of her tongue she couldn''t swallow - like she was forgetting something. Nate told her again everything would be alright. She closed her eyes. The rest, she didn¡¯t see. Chapter 16 - Wound Sissy didn''t want to move. Pain was making her lazy after torturing her all night. She laid on the couch like an overworked mother of three, staring at the ceiling in an effort to distract herself from the pounding headache she had woken up with. The rim of her eyes were red, so was everything about her : her gaze, her hand¡¯s bandage, her thoughts. She didn''t need to pee. She¡¯d eat and it would go nowhere. That¡¯s something she was obsessing over this morning: this world¡¯s shortcuts. But more so what it meant about her own existence. Everything here was unbalanced, like a coin with only one side - or no sides at all. Just a smooth piece of metal from her bloodied hand to yours. Even her wound was a joke: just a pink gash from where blood would sometimes spill out. That was the closest thing to a vagina she had on her. The thought was haunting a corner of her mind: she couldn''t begin to imagine what her anatomy truly looked like, but it wasn¡¯t human. She wasn¡¯t human. She thought she was, and that''s why she felt lonely. But from the very start, she had been an integral part of this world, with or without the worm. She was just a puppet with a name and a sense of self importance. She believed that she would become like Sarah one day once she made memories of her own. That she would learn to know the difference between her feelings and the phantom limbs of the ¡°ones that came before her¡±. But she wasn¡¯t born from Sarah. She was born from this place, this small world that mimicked life. There it was, the egg. The womb. Pain was a theatrical tool but Sissy was missing her audience right now. She had walked for hours yesterday, yet her feet weren¡¯t hurt in the slightest, nor did she feel a change in her stamina. But her hand was different - it only took her father one look at it to realize he had messed up by sending Nate in his stead when the hospital called him yesterday. Now all the neighborhood would talk about was that he didn¡¯t show up for his own daughter. Right now, he was cursing himself upstairs while shaving. They were going to go get ice cream - just him and her. Because her feet still didn¡¯t hurt but his ego was bleeding. And now he was the one dripping. Sweat, tears - blood as he nicked himself and let out an exasperated roar. Sissy heard it from downstairs but said nothing. Now they matched, she thought absent-mindedly. Maybe she would make the joke out loud, later, when they were in public and he had no chance but to laugh. Maybe she would have a reproductive system if her and Nate were Peter¡¯s biological children. But maybe none of it mattered at all and death would come to find her soon. Birth - Fear - Pain - Death. It was all coming together so perfectly. ¡°Come on, get in the car,¡± said Peter as he came downstairs. ¡°And put on real shoes for once,¡± he added after a while. Sissy didn¡¯t react. He glanced at her, puzzled. She smiled and got up. ** This world had too many ice cream shops but Peter still knew the best of the best. He made small talk with the owner, related the tale of her wounded hand with remorse and obvious worry to the cashier, then they sat down and barely talked. He asked some questions about her school life she didn¡¯t care to answer properly. Once he tried to make physical contact with her by gently putting his hand on her shoulder and she shivered. Gross things were still gross, even when they were your legal guardian. Finally she made the joke she had prepared earlier and he smiled. She got upset he didn¡¯t even make the effort to snort, so she turned her attention outside and stopped caring. Outside the sky was blue, the sun was shining. Sissy hadn¡¯t known a single day of rain since the cemetery. She missed it, she was getting tired of this overbearing heat following her everywhere, everything sticking to her skin. She tried to eat her ice cream as cleanly as she could. Peter had started a monologue at one point that she wasn¡¯t listening to. He only interrupted his explanation when a couple recognized him across the shop and came to talk. Sissy was still looking outside. Puppet, puppet, puppet, puppet, pu- It was standing out like a sore thumb in a crowd of similar faces. They almost made eye contact and Sissy thought it was looking at her, but it was really looking everywhere and nowhere at all at the same time. Its face was distorted by an emotion far less polite than the smile puppets usually wore, though the creature did look like them when it stood still. It wouldn¡¯t stand still. First it grabbed a random man by the arm but then it got distracted by another passing by, and grabbed this one; only to realize it only had two arms and let go of both. It started running soon after, only to abruptly stop and go back on its steps. Puppets didn¡¯t know how to avoid it, so it kept grabbing them then dragging them around, never finishing what it intended to do - and Sissy didn¡¯t know what it intended to do. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. She was dying. But they hadn¡¯t made eye contact and just when she was about to turn her head away ¨D they did. ¡°Sissy, are you alright ? Is your hand hurting ?¡± Peter and the couple were looking at her with concerned looks on their faces. She stared at Peter blankly. ¡°I want to go home.¡± ¡°Why ? What happened ?¡± ¡°Let¡¯s just go home.¡± Her voice was but a whisper. That¡¯s because something was sticking to her skin again, and it wasn¡¯t her shirt, sugar or coated blood. It was looking at her - no, staring at her. Its gaze was penetrating her fucking mind. It was different than the devil¡¯s gaze, different than Peter¡¯s scorn. Sissy knew about hunger but she didn¡¯t know about the one that was spilling out of its eyes as it was seizing her up across the window. It felt heavier and wet, like seconds before a rainstorm, when your breath gets caught. It felt like death to her, though she couldn¡¯t justify it. For once, nobody was strangling her. Peter played along. ¡°Of course, honey. If you want to.¡± But he took his time saying goodbye to his friends, and it was enough time for someone or something to cross the road and stand by the window where she was sitting. It was enough time for her to call Nate underneath the table in a panic. He didn¡¯t answer. Peter got up, and she stayed sat. It was right behind the glass, peering at her. She didn¡¯t move. ¡°Come on, Sissy, you¡¯re the one that wanted to go.¡± Peter didn¡¯t seem to find anything strange with the situation, and it made her go mad. None of the puppets appeared worried about the man behind the window. She was alone - alone in front of something she didn¡¯t know the nature of. Not a god, not a devil. Something else. Something dirtier. She got up trembling. She thought that maybe if she didn¡¯t interact with it, it would leave her alone. It launched at her the second she put a foot on the sidewalk. Plunged its fingers into her mouth and she chocked. Tried to open her jaw by force, and the more space she had to yell, the least she managed to scream. Tears swelled up in her eyes, she managed to push the creature away. It came back like a magnet. It was a frenzy. She couldn¡¯t understand how it only had two hands because each time she would get one off her body, she¡¯d find it elsewhere. Grazing her skin, trying to dig deeper. Sissy had never known such oppression. She was plastered against the wall, it was plastered against her. It had no scent - that¡¯s something she noticed amidst the chaos. It had no scent and it made no sound. ¡°Sissy, what are you doing ?¡± Peter sounded annoyed as he looked back. ¡°Why are you standing there ?¡± His words slowed down her reflexes as she tried to comprehend how Peter couldn¡¯t see the man pining her down when he acknowledged all puppets like living beings. It was enough of an opportunity for the creature to break through her defenses: its hand slipped past her underwear, directly to her crotch. She froze. Then an absurd laugh escaped her lips. It had one hand trying to keep her mouth open, the other down her pants. Sissy felt the emotion burst in her chest and dye the whole of her skin red. Raw, pure despair filled her gaze. She had never felt naked before, not like that. She hated it. When she felt the creature¡¯s fingers push deeper between her legs, she nearly lost her mind. But it never found what it was looking for - because it wasn¡¯t there. It took her a couple of seconds to realize that she didn¡¯t have the hole it wanted to bury itself in, and when she did, her mind that was about to collapse stilled in its own destruction. She watched silently as the creature came to realize that she truly was nothing more than a doll, and when it did, it let out a sound for the first time. An exasperated cry so very similar to the one her father had let out earlier. But blood came later. As soon as it cried, Peter suddenly grew eyes. The scene finally appeared to him in all of its horror. His body moved first and he yanked the creature off Sissy, before punching it in the face. His expression was a mess of anger, shock, incomprehension - shame. Sissy was still frozen in place as her gaze rested on her father¡¯s face, feeling both foreign to and annoyed by his obvious distress. The creature had fallen to the ground and was crying like a child. That¡¯s when it hit her. A subtle taste of sulfur. Down her tongue, past where the creature¡¯s nails had scratched her. She was about to spit it out when something caught her eye in her peripheral vision. ¨D An eye was floating in the air above them. It looked like a child¡¯s drawing: an oval for the shape, a circle for the iris, another one for the pupil. As soon as she saw it, her ears started ringing. ¡°Who is that guy ? Do you know him ? What the hell happened ?¡± Before she realized, Peter had grabbed her by the shoulders and started yelling. It took less than a second for all emotions to leave his face - like a switch had been hit. On, off. One second he was losing his mind after finding a man assaulting his only daughter in the middle of the street, the next he was - what was he ? ¡°Sissy, are you alright ?¡± His tone was much more relaxed than before, his hands lighter on her shoulders. ¡°Why are you just standing here ?¡± Sissy¡¯s sweat dripped down her spine. This was hell. Chapter 17 - Call As soon as she got home, Sissy went straight to her brother¡¯s room. It was empty. She circled around the bed uselessly then sat down on it. Her father followed after her. She was calling Nate on her phone when he showed up at the door. ¡°You really think he''s going to answer ?¡±, Peter sneered. Sissy glanced at him but didn¡¯t say a word. Her mind was a fragmented mess, she was trying to hold the pieces of it together. It felt like if she stopped focusing, she''d lose the exact memory of what had happened. She had no energy to spend to read her father¡¯s gaze; he stared at her for a bit, then left. The call fell short. So she called again. Again, again, again, circle again circle circle circle circle circle circle circle circle circle circle circle circle circle circle circle circle circle circle circle circle circl- The devil finally picked up. ¡°I saw it,¡± she said immediately. The end of the line stayed silent. ¡°I saw it, it was near the ice cream shop -¡± Which one ? ¡°Fuck !¡± ¡°You really think you can just call me up like everything''s alright and I¡¯ll play along ?¡± ¡°What ?¡± ¡°Don''t act like yesterday didn''t happen.¡± ¡°Who cares about yesterday ? I saw the dirty thing ! I saw it !¡± She was crying. He laughed bitterly. ¡°I''m so disappointed in you right now.¡± Sissy¡¯s heart missed a beat, then stopped beating altogether. She stayed there, still as a statue, or maybe as a doll, as time stretched. Nate¡¯s voice seemed so far away. ¡°Why did you need to tell dad ?¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. She said nothing to Peter. ¡°Were you really that hungry for his attention ? Because it brings nothing good. Remember mom ?¡± Sissy was shaking. She remembered. She remembered the cemetery, the headstone. The bouquet. She remembered Marie - wiped away like a drop of paint, like her existence had meant nothing at all. Sissy dropped the ball on the floor of the museum. It bounced back five times. It sounded like: ¡°I don¡¯t want to die.¡± A strange echo, almost imperceptible. She realized way later that she had spoken those words. Nate¡¯s answer didn''t come right away. ¡°Why are you so desperate now ?¡± No, she wasn''t. ¡°I didn''t think you cared about us - whatever that meant to you.¡± No, she was. She acted so smug earlier when she thought all of this would soon come to an end. But now she was hurting. It wasn''t her hand, it was somewhere inside her, somewhere the dirty thing had tried to reach. Somewhere that should only be hers to find, for the rest of her life. ¡°I thought you wanted me to find it - the dirty thing. I thought -¡± ¡°Maybe it¡¯s not that you found your conscience after a night of rest, maybe you simply realized that whatever I''m here or not, that man will never love you - because he doesn''t love anybody but himself. I hope you enjoyed your ice cream.¡± Nate hung up. Sissy¡¯s hand dropped and she stared at her phone¡¯s screen blankly. Her whole body was shaking, her breath became rough. She was struggling, like the day she drowned. She understood nothing of what was happening, all she could think about was how short this existence had been and how quickly it would be erased - how this fish bowl of a world wouldn¡¯t even see the difference. She was less than a fake sky, less than a missing puppet. Less than a house with no address. Less than a name, because the devil could always give the same name to someone else and have them play her part. Have them be Sissy in her stead. She owed nothing, not even a headstone. Now she missed Marie. Did heaven exist for a soul that had been stolen ? Her phone screen suddenly lit up again. Her vision was blurry with tears, but she still saw the caller¡¯s name. She picked up the phone very slowly. ¡°... Hello ?¡± Her voice was so shy. The devil was joyous. ¡°So you saw it.¡± She was sobbing. ¡°I did, I swear I did¡­¡± But maybe she should say she didn''t, what if that''s not what he wanted, what if - ¡°Great. Now kill it.¡± ¡°What ?¡± ¡°Find a way to kill it, I¡¯m busy.¡± Doing what ? ¡°Where are you ?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t need to know.¡± Sissy stayed silent for a bit. The devil was humming between sentences. ¡°Why were you mad earlier ?¡±, she finally asked - like she would a boyfriend. ¡°I wasn¡¯t.¡± ¡°But -¡± ¡°I¡¯m not anymore, anyway.¡± ¡°... Okay.¡± ¡°Just get rid of that thing.¡± ¡°How ?¡± ¡°No idea. I need to go, I''ll see you later.¡± ¡°You''re coming home tonight ?* ¡°Mmm no, later.¡± ¡°When ?¡± ¡°See you.¡± He hung up. Sissy stayed there, alone in this empty room in this empty house in this empty street in this empty block in this empty town in this empty world. Empty. Her hand was bleeding again.