"Have you ever killed anyone, doctor?"
Serena analyzed the man in front of her, uncertainty clawing at her thoughts. First, she wasn't a doctor. Second, what sort of lunatic waltzes up to a person asking about murder? Evidently, a handsome one—striking features shadowed by an intensity that made her skin prickle.
"Excuse me?" Serena replied hesitantly, a hint of shakiness penetrating her voice.
"Have you ever killed anyone, doctor?" The man pressed, locking eyes with her. Deep into those amber orbs, she felt as if he was searching for something—her truth, her fear. His gaze was vibrant yet devoid of life, as if it housed a dark secret.
"No," she managed, a wave of relief washing over her as she realized that where they stood was a bustling street filled with light and laughter. "And I'm not a doctor," she finished, her tone sharp and confident, finally freed from the constraints of fear.
"But you are, Doctor. Have you ever stopped to think—"
"Think what?" she interjected, her confidence rising like a tide, determined to reclaim the conversation.
"That your life is a lie." The man's voice dropped to a whisper, the words hanging ominously in the air before he vanished into the crowd as if he were nothing more than a mirage.
Serena stood frozen, unable to shake off the man's words. Not because she found them profound, but because of the indescribable urge to enlighten her friends and family about the odd encounter. She could almost envision their reactions—their brows furrowing in concern, laughter spilling from their lips, eyes wide with disbelief.
Her life wasn't a lie, she assured herself. While she was studying to become a doctor, that didn't automatically make her one. Not yet, anyway. Do you know how much money she would save on credentialing if it did? She was, after all, just a twenty-one-year-old college student from a wealthy family. No murder charges. No medical license.
And who was that man? She had never seen that lunatic before. How would he have known if she were a murderous doctor to begin with? Simply, he wouldn't. Shaking her head, she dismissed the absurdity of the encounter and turned her attention to the driveway, a smile breaking across her face at the sight of her father's gray Ford.
A wave of happiness washed over her, almost infectious, brightening her overall demeanor. It had been too long since he'd made it home for dinner. Her normally pale complexion took on a healthy glow, and her amber eyes sparkled under the warm sun. With each step toward the house, a sense of normalcy enveloped her, as if the day's strange events were mere coincidences. She couldn't wait to share a meal, throw her arms around him, and relish the comfort of family—the stories of her day pushed to the back of her mind.
Barging through the door, Serena quickly kicked off her shoes, her excitement radiating. "Mother! Father!" she called out, expecting a loving response. But the moments of anticipation morphed into silence. "Mother, Father," she repeated, the stillness pressing against her heart like an unwelcome weight.
Then, she was hit with it—the unmistakable scent of burnt chicken, strong and nauseating. The sound of boiling water overflowed from the pot, echoing through the otherwise silent house. With each sizzle, the knot in her stomach tightened, unease replacing her earlier joy.
Frowning, Serena made her way to the kitchen, her vision blinded by the potent mixture of smoke and steam, seconds from the fire alarm erupting into chaos.
"Mother? Father?" she called again, her voice wavering, but there was no response. Just as she stepped deeper into the chaos, she tripped over something—a long, skinny object, perhaps a stray spatula or flimsy potholder—losing her balance and face-planting onto the slick tile, now coated in a disgusting liquid.
Pain shot through her head as it struck the hard floor with a thud, her vision blurring, the world around her fading into darkness. Serena lay there, unconscious, amidst the burning house, unaware of the danger creeping closer, unaware of the thin line between life and death that the day had audaciously tread.