The room was still, the tension in the air thick enough to suffocate. The knife hovered above Noah's chest, Helena's hand trembling slightly as she gripped it tightly. The eerie glow from the moon outside flickered against the blade, illuminating the cruel intent that lingered in Helena's mind.
Anna was screaming inside, her thoughts frantic as she tried to wrestle control away from Helena. Please stop! Don't do this! But her cries were met with silence, her body still bound by Helena's twisted will.
And then, with a sharp intake of breath, Helena acted.
The knife came down with a brutal force, sinking into Noah's chest with a sickening sound. Blood spurted out immediately, splattering across Helena's face and hands, staining her pale lacey nightgown with bright crimson. Anna could feel every movement, the cold steel of the knife sliding into flesh, the warmth of the blood gushing out onto her skin.
Noah's body jerked violently, his eyes snapping open in shock. His red eyes locked onto Helena's, wide with pain and betrayal. He gasped, his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow breaths as blood poured out of the wound. But Helena showed no remorse. Her face remained eerily calm, almost serene, as if this was her rightful retribution.
Anna's mind was spiraling into horror. Helena, stop! Please! You're killing him!
But Helena's grip on the knife only tightened. With a low grunt, she yanked the blade out of Noah's chest, and the blood gushed even more, staining the pristine sheets a deep, violent red. Noah's breath hitched, a strangled cry escaping his lips, but he couldn't speak.
Without hesitation, Helena brought the knife down again. This time, the plunge was deeper, harder. The blade buried itself in his chest with a sickening crunch, and more blood sprayed out, drenching her face and arms in the sticky warmth. It splattered onto her lace nightgown, the delicate fabric now soaked in the red stain of violence.
Each time the knife went down, more blood poured from Noah's body, pooling around him like a river of crimson. His once-vibrant silver hair was now matted with blood, his red eyes dimming as his life began to slip away.
Helena stood over him, her face cold, her movements mechanical, as if she were nothing more than a puppet driven by an unseen force. Blood dripped from the knife, from her hands, from the ends of her nightgown, falling silently onto the floor.
Noah's hand twitched weakly, reaching out as if to grasp something, someone. His eyes flickered, struggling to stay open, but there was no hope left in them. Each breath he took was shallower than the last, the life draining out of him with each passing second.
And still, Helena did not stop.
Noah's final breath escaped his lips, a shallow, broken whisper, before his body went completely still. His once-bright red eyes, now dull and lifeless, stared blankly at the ceiling. His silver hair, now drenched in blood, clung to his pale face. The room was deathly silent, save for the faint drip of blood falling from the bed to the floor.
Helena stood over his body, the knife still clutched in her bloodstained hand. For a moment, there was nothing but stillness—an eerie calm that settled over the room like a dark, suffocating blanket.
Then, Helena smirked.
The corner of her lips curled upward, her expression cold and twisted, as if relishing the sight of Noah's lifeless body. Her eyes, though filled with tears, glimmered with something dark, something broken. The tears rolled down her cheeks, but they weren't the tears of sorrow or regret—they were tears of something far more disturbing.
As the tears fell, Helena's smirk widened. And then, without warning, she began to laugh.
The sound started as a low chuckle, a cruel, mocking sound that echoed through the room. But soon, it grew louder, more manic, until Helena was laughing uncontrollably. Her body shook with the force of it, her bloodstained hands trembling as she clutched the knife to her chest.
On the inside, Anna was horrified. She could feel everything—every laugh, every shudder, every tear that escaped Helena's eyes. But her own emotions were the opposite of what Helena displayed. Anna wanted to cry, to scream, to mourn the loss of Noah, but she was trapped, unable to express her grief. What have you done? her mind screamed, but Helena only laughed harder.
As Helena's laughter filled the room, her tears continued to flow, staining her already bloodied face. It was a twisted contrast—the manic joy and the silent tears, the laughter that didn't match the sorrowful stream falling from her eyes. But Helena didn't care. She reveled in the chaos of it all, spinning slowly in place, her blood-soaked nightgown swirling around her feet.
She began to hum a soft tune, a melody so sweet it was sickening in the midst of the carnage. Her voice rose and fell with the haunting lullaby, and soon, she began to sway, dancing in circles around Noah's lifeless body. Her movements were graceful, almost elegant, like a ballerina performing for an invisible audience.
But this dance was madness.
Helena twirled and spun, her hands outstretched, the knife dangling loosely from her fingers as she danced. Blood smeared across the floor with each step, her once-pristine nightgown now completely soaked in crimson. Her laughter was still there, mingling with the melody she hummed, the tears continuing to stream down her cheeks even as her lips curved into a grin.
Anna, trapped inside, could only watch in silent horror. How is this happening? she thought, her mind reeling from the surreal nightmare unfolding before her. How can she laugh?