In this world, you are not normal if you are not crazy.
As we finished the last of the cocoa, I quietly rose from the table and made my way to the sink, starting to wash the few dishes left behind. The rhythm of the task was soothing until, suddenly, the sponge and fork slipped from my grasp, clattering into the basin with a jarring sound. For a moment, I could have sworn I saw my breath in the air as if the temperature had plunged to sub-zero in an instant only to return to normal the next.
A faint scratching noise pricked at my ears, and I spun around instinctively, my heart racing. My eyes locked onto the window, where a swirl of black smoke lingered just outside the glass, curling and dissipating before I could fully comprehend what I was seeing. The sight sent a chill down my spine. Was it some kind of magic?
Abandoning the dishes, I rushed to the window, flinging it open with a force driven by an inexplicable urgency, as if the air in the room had suddenly grown thin. I scanned the surroundings, searching for any sign of the unnatural presence, but the street below was eerily quiet, and nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Was my mind playing tricks on me?
"What's wrong?" Alex's voice broke through the tension, concern etched on his face.
I must have looked like I had just been confronted by a legion of mountain trolls because Alex looked scared too.
"Did you hear that?" I asked, my voice tight, still staring out the window.
"Hear what?" His brow furrowed in confusion.
"The scratching on the window," I explained, glancing back at him.
Alex shook his head, puzzled. "I didn't hear anything."
Was I losing it?
"No, it's nothing," I muttered, brushing it off, though my heart still pounded in my chest. "I thought I heard something, that's all."
"You need some rest," he said, his tone gentle but firm. "You look like you haven't slept in days."
He was probably right. I nodded in agreement, though the unease lingered. Just as I was about to close the window, a voice called out, shouting my name from outside, asking if we were home.
Alex and I rushed to the door, swinging it open to find our landlady, Inez, standing there with her two sons. Her warm smile brightened the hallway.
"Hello, boys!" she greeted us cheerfully.
"Hello!" "Hi!" Alex and I replied in unison.
"I'm so glad you're finally feeling better, Alex," Inez said, her tone kind and welcoming. "I heard you were being discharged today, so I baked you something."
Alex's grin widened, clearly touched by the gesture. "Thank you so much!"
His eyes lingered on the plate of baked goods betraying his eagerness.
"And the boys helped, so it didn't take long," she continued, beaming with pride.
"Really?" I asked, glancing at the two boys.
Richie shrugged nonchalantly, though I caught the flicker of concern in his eyes as he looked at Alex. The wolf had mentioned before that he kept an eye out for Richie, stepping in to help the boy when he found himself in trouble. Despite his small stature, Richie had a courageous streak, often standing up to older kids. But getting home safely was another story, and Alex had offered him a sanctuary when he needed it, treating his injuries with quiet care.
"We made the cream!" Marcie announced with a beaming smile.
Inez ruffled his hair affectionately. "They were such a great help!"
"Why..." The faint smile on my lips faltered as the air seemed to shift. That voice didn't belong to Marcie. My gaze slowly returned to his face, and for a split second, his eyes burned with an unfamiliar hatred.
"Why did you let me die?!" The raspy, grating words clawed their way out, almost a scream.
My heart lurched, but before I could react, Inez's voice broke the tension. "That's all we came for," she said casually. "But I must go now; I have work soon."
I blinked, my eyes darting back to Marci. His expression was soft again, the eerie moment seemingly vanished. No one else appeared to have noticed what I did. Had I imagined it? Was I losing my grip on reality?
Inez turned, leading her children back to their apartment with a cheerful wave.
"What's the matter?" Alex asked, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Did you hear something again?"
I shook my head, trying to push the unsettling encounter from my mind. "No, nothing's wrong." But the lingering unease told a different story.
I closed the door behind us, my fingers lingering on the cool handle as Alex made a beeline for the kitchen. I remained where I was, frozen, my forehead pressed against the smooth wood. Am I losing my mind?
"Want some pies?" Alex's voice called from the kitchen, cheerful and oblivious. "They're delicious."
"No, thanks," I replied, my voice hollow as I dragged myself toward our shared room. "I'm going to bed."
What the hell is happening? I collapsed onto the bed, sinking into the cocoon of the duvet and pillows. My mind churned with confusion, unable to piece together the fragments of the strange encounters. I didn't understand any of it, and the uncertainty gnawed at me. Eventually, exhaustion claimed me, pulling me into a restless sleep filled with lingering doubt.
(...)
Darkness... A bloody figure... I have to run, I have to escape...
My eyes snapped open, and I bolted upright in bed, my heart pounding. A faint noise had pulled me from a restless sleep. I scanned the room, my gaze settling on Alex, sprawled across his bed in a position that looked anything but comfortable. Relieved, I let out a shaky breath and sank back into my pillows, willing sleep to return. But just as I was drifting off, another faint squeak pierced the silence.
I sat up again, my pulse quickening. Alex remained in deep sleep, oblivious to the world. As I exhaled, my breath crystallized in the air, a ghostly white vapor. A chill shot through me, freezing the blood in my veins. Something was wrong. Very wrong.
A faint crack, followed by the soft tapping of claws on glass, drew my attention to the window. The noise grew louder, more insistent, echoing through the stillness of the room. It wasn't coming from the window anymore—it was in the kitchen. My heart raced as I sat paralyzed, unable to summon the willingness to investigate. The sound grew closer, filling the space with an eerie scraping. Then it stopped. Silence enveloped the room, heavy and oppressive.
The door creaked open slowly, revealing nothing but darkness beyond. A chilling pause, and then the nightmare resumed. Claws raked the walls, stripping paint and plaster as they tore through the surface. The unseen force was closing in, relentless. I thought I was going to die of fright. Just as it seemed about to reach me, it halted a meter away.
A piercing scream shattered the air, reverberating in my skull, followed by a cacophony of agonized howls. The sound was relentless, a chorus of torment that made my head throb. I clamped my hands over my ears, but it did nothing to block out the dreadful noise. It felt like the cries were rooted deep within my own mind.
Warmth trickled down my hands, and the metallic scent of blood filled my senses. My ears throbbed with unbearable pain, each scream sending waves of agony through my body. Desperate, I collapsed onto the floor, pressing my forehead to the cold surface. My own voice joined the horrific wails in a desperate attempt to escape the torment. Then, abruptly, it all stopped.
A firm hand gripped my shoulder, grounding me in reality. I opened my eyes to find Alex staring at me, his face pale with fear. His strong hand trembled slightly, and I realized I had startled him as much as I had been startled myself.
"What happened? Shay, what happened?!"
"I heard..." My voice cracked, trailing off. My throat throbbed with an unfamiliar ache. Why did my throat hurt? "I heard voices, Alex. They were screaming, like they were being tortured."
"Shay..." Alex said my name softly, his tone laced with caution, as if afraid I might slip back into that horrifying vision. "You were the only one screaming here. I tried to wake you for five minutes, but you wouldn't respond."
"What...?" My voice faded again, uncertainty taking hold.
I scanned the room, searching for any signs of the chaos I had just experienced. The door was firmly closed. The walls bore no marks of scratches. My hand instinctively reached for my ear, finding it clean, no trace of blood. Am I... am I losing my mind?
"You had a bad dream," Alex suggested gently, but I cut him off.
"It wasn't a dream!"
He hesitated but didn't press further. "Try to lie back down," he offered. "See if you can get some rest. You look terrible..."
Yeah, well, crazy people probably look pretty bad. Reluctantly, I nodded and slipped back into bed. Alex soon drifted into a peaceful sleep, but I couldn't shake the memory of what had happened. What could it have been?
There were two possibilities: either I was going mad, or the world around me was going mad.For some reason, the first seemed more plausible. Do crazy people even know they're crazy?
I shook my head, closed my eyes, and willed myself to sleep. It was no use. Only one thing could help now—cocoa. There are two reliable comforts in life: sleep and cocoa. If one eludes you, the other is a good consolation.
I slid out of bed and made my way to the kitchen. My hand reached for my favorite mug, followed by the last bit of milk from the fridge. Cocoa was my go-to remedy for nerves. It always managed to calm me down.
I recalled the first time I met Geri, the way he had been so cruel when I refused to obey. With Des out, I had locked myself in his room, clutching one of his sweaters and sobbing into its familiar scent. I wept bitterly, lost in despair.
Then the door creaked open. I expected to see my brother, but it was my mother. My crying ceased almost immediately, my tears halting at the sight of her. I braced for punishment, but she did nothing of the sort. Instead, she handed me a mug of hot cocoa.
Tentatively, I accepted it and took a sip. Instantly, the tension and fear drained from my body, replaced by the soothing warmth of the cocoa. Without a word, my mother left the room, leaving me alone again, but comforted. We never spoke of that moment, but it remained one of my most cherished memories of her.
I was about to close the microwave door when a feeling washed over me—someone was watching. My eyes darted to the window, catching a glimpse of black smoke dissipating into the night. Slowly, I approached the window and peered outside. Darkness stretched before me, just minutes before midnight.
There, in front of the house, stood a shadowy figure. He didn't move, didn't make a sound, but I felt his gaze locked on me, piercing through the darkness. My heart pounded as I rushed to the front door, throwing it open, only to find the figure replaced by the same swirling smoke.
My breath formed a white cloud in the cold night air, mingling with the dissipating mist.
I felt his presence behind me before I heard a sound, the chill of his breath brushing the nape of my neck. I spun around, my pulse quickening. The boy stood there—familiar, yet hauntingly changed. I recognized him as one of the people I ripped off at the buffet, but now, he appeared otherworldly.
His short frame was almost transparent, his skin drained of color, pale and lifeless. His dark, hollow eyes devoured any trace of light, and his once-vibrant red hair now hung dull and lifeless. If I had reached out to touch him, I was certain my hand would pass right through.
What shook me most, however, were the sinister purple bruises on his neck, the unmistakable marks of vampire fangs. They looked as though they had nearly torn a piece of him away.
A biting cold seeped into the air. The remnants of yesterday's rain, pooled on the ground, glazed over with frost, and then, in a mesmerizing dance, froze solid. Ice flowers bloomed on the windows, frost coated the grass, and its tendrils snaked along the electrical cables.
The cold intensified, wrapping around me like a vice. It was unbearable. The windows crackled ominously, the icy air pierced my lungs, making each breath a struggle. It felt as if an unseen force was reaching inside me, trying to rip my heart out. The ghost's anger was palpable, a ferocious and tangible rage.
"You let me die... You let me die!" His voice was filled with accusation, each word a dagger aimed at my soul. "It's your fault!"
"I'm sorry," I whispered, the words falling from my lips unbidden.
I didn't know why I was apologizing, but as soon as the words left my mouth, the ghost's fury seemed to ebb, though only slightly.
"Help me, please," he pleaded, desperation seeping into his voice. "I'm in so much pain... I can't leave. He's holding me here..."
"Who's holding you?" I asked urgently. "How can I help?"
"Help me! Help me! Help me..." His voice echoed, growing fainter.
A warm hand landed gently on my shoulder, and in that instant, the ghost vanished, taking the cold with him. The air returned to normal, but I knew what I had seen was no illusion. I turned to find my brother standing there.
"Shay? What are you doing here?"
"Did you find anything about the diary?" I asked, dodging his question.
The hunter nodded. "They found traces of a ghost's essence on it. Someone is being haunted."
"Yes," I said, my voice steady. "Me."
"What?" His eyes widened in shock.
"I know who the ghost is," I said firmly.
"Why would he be haunting you?" Des frowned, confusion etched on his face.
"I don't know," I admitted. "I didn't even know the boy was dead."
"All right," Des said, turning to leave. "Wake your friend up. I'll go get Ben."
"What are you planning?" I asked, a sinking feeling in my stomach.
"We're going to see someone," he replied, his voice dark with intent. "The Necromancer."