He moved his lips, but no word came out. His eyes held an unmistakable look of terror as he pointed to the kitchen window. Gwen turned slowly, dreading what she might see… But then she saw nothing. Not a single person was on the other side of the open window.
A frown immediately formed on her forehead. "There's nothing there, Malcolm."
He stood frozen, trembling with fear. "She's there," he mumbled, his voice barely audible. "She wants to end all of us." His breath was coming in short, shallow gasps, and his body was trembling uncontrollably.
Gwen felt a chill run down her spine as she watched him, rooted to the spot. "Malcolm, you're scaring me. There's no one there," she said. In that moment, she thought he was in the throes of a panic attack. She tried to remain calm, knowing that her own fear would only make things worse.
"You're not in danger, Malcolm. It's not real" She moved a few steps close to him, speaking slowly and deliberately, hoping that he would hear her words. But as she spoke, he started hyperventilating. His breaths came in gasps. He gazed at the mark that was spontaneously carved in his chest, and he sank to the floor with his body trembling violently. Gwen rushed to his side, pulling him close. His body felt cold and limp in her arms. She shook him gently, calling his name over and over, desperate to snap him out of whatever trance he was in.
Finally, his eyes blinked, and his breathing slowed. Then she gingerly pulled his shirt away to see the source of the blood. A large, ragged gash stretched across his chest, and her heart nearly stopped as she saw the mark but Malcolm was losing blood, and she needed to focus her mind on saving him. Her hands shook as she fumbled through the drawers in the kitchen, looking for anything that might help. She found a towel and pressed it against his chest, applying pressure.
Malcolm clutched the towel too.
"I need to call an ambulance!" She didn't realize she was screaming.
The whiteness of the towel slowly soaked in a red color.
"No." Malcolm said weakly, trying to push her away. "I don't want them to know... I don't want anybody to find out…" He trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper. "This is the mark of the cursed. It came back fresh after disappearing for sixteen years. It can't be good!"
"Mom?" Mason called out, his voice uncertain, as he walked down the corridor.
"In here, Mason!" Gwen sounded strained.
Mason entered the kitchen to find his mother rummaging through the drawers, looking frantically for what he had no clue of. His father was lying on the ground close to the counter, writhing in pain, drenched in sweat.
"What is going on? What's wrong with Dad?" Mason frowned, ponderously walking towards Malcolm.
"Save the questions for later, Mason. Just carry your dad upstairs."
Mason staggered back as he saw the long trail of blood. His heart suddenly started beating faster. He looked up at Gwen. "There's blood all over the floor, mom! What happened to him?!"
"Mason, please. I know this is scary, but I need you to trust me and just do what I say right now. I promise I'll explain everything later."
Mason hesitated for a moment, then steeled himself and rushed to his father. He lifted him off the ground and moved as quickly as he could up the stairs to the bedroom. The adrenaline coursing through his body was the only thing keeping him going as the weight of his father threatened to break him down halfway up the stairs. With each step, Mason's heart beat fastened.
When they finally reached the top of the stairs, Mason's legs felt like rock. He stumbled into his parents' bedroom and placed Malcolm on the bed.
His muscles shook.
Almost immediately, Gwen walked in, holding a small jar of green paste.
It was a mixture her grandmother often used to treat injuries. She was aware of it's effectiveness.
Worried, standing in the doorway and watching her was Mason.
She sat next to Malcolm and ripped his shirt, baring his chest. The concoction fumbled in her hands when she began scooping from it with her hands and applying it to the deep gashes of the wound that still poured out blood. Her hands trembled as she smeared the paste over it.
"Mason, could you bring me the bandages?" She asked, keeping her eyes on her husband's wound. "It's somewhere in the drawer."
Her son move around the room; his footsteps were quick and in a few seconds, he was behind her, holding a roll of bandages. "Here," he handed it to her, and his gaze fell on the wound.
The shape it had formed—a crescent—he recognized it too well, and his stomach sank as he realization dawned on him. He had last seen the cursed mark on his father when he was five years old. It had disappeared as soon as his little sister, Josie was born. He stared at the wound and he felt his stomach churn.
"Why is that mark back again?" he asked. "I thought we're done with the curse?"
Gwen looked at Mason. Her heart broke at the fear she saw in his eyes. "Everything will be okay, Mason. Nothing is going to happen again."
"How can you be so sure, Mom?" Mason asked. "We both know how dad almost killed us all when he had that cursed mark... I have to tell Kira."
"No, Mason, you can't tell Kira or Josie about this. We've been keeping this under wraps for sixteen years."
"But I have to tell them, Mom," Mason insisted. "They need to know that Dad's been marked again after all this time. It's not fair to keep them in the dark, especially not Kira. We've always been honest with each other, no matter what."
"Mason, I need you to go to your room now," Gwen said. "And I know this is hard, but I need you to promise me you will tell no one about this."
Mason hesitated, biting his lip. "But Mom..."
"Promise me," Gwen cut him, her eyes pleading.
He paced back and forth, torn between being honest with his sisters and to trust his mother.
"Okay... I promise," he said, finally. He turned and walked to his room.
Gwen's shoulders sagged as she watched Malcolm. It was best that the girls were ignorant of their family curse surfacing again; she thought. Ignorance is bliss.
* * *
In the middle of the night, Josie stood in the middle of a wide clearing, but even though it was hard, she recognized she was in Bellatrix street. It was the street she passed through to get to school every morning, so she was sure. There was a clock tower yards away from her—she saw it was nearly midnight. She looked around, wondering why Westhill suddenly became so outdated.
It was dark.
Dim lamps burned in the nearby houses that were built with mud and thatched roof, and it reflected out their windows. There were six or seven candles—enclosed in glass lanterns and hanging from brackets—but only three were lit. The half-moon shone upon the darkness. It was so quiet she could hear her own heart. The ground was wet and the cold wind tousled her hair.
"Josie, what are you doing here?" She heard her father's voice coming beside her.
She looked to her side and saw Malcolm standing a few meters away from her. "I don't know how I got here."
Sleepwalking could've been the perfect explanation except their father locked every door and keeps the key with him during bedtime. There was no way she would've left her house.
In the silence, she heard snorting sounds and struggling, then she looked up and saw two people hung on the gallows and struggling with the ropes round their necks. Josie jerked, her eyes widening. They kept trying to talk, but all their words came in a babble. In a shadowed corner, a silhouetted figure stood, staring at them.
Wait! Josie stopped think... Everything was exactly as Bryan's drawing—the one he hung on the wall of his treehouse.
"Half-moon, clock ticks down, the monster, though concealed, draws nearer." She said those words in a whisper. Her eyes opened wider with her neck sucked in as she held her breath. She looked up at the half-moon, then the clock tower and then the figure standing still in the darkness.
Her head turned to look at her father. He stood, dumb stricken, staring at the silhouette too.
When she looked back at the figure, it was gone and the next minute; it jumped at her face.
"Josie!" Malcolm yelled.
While she struggled, it strangled her with a rope.
Josie woke up in a cold sweat, and a loud scream busted from her throat.
"Josie!" Malcolm yelled her name again, but this time, he was on his bed. It felt so real he could not tell if he had woken up or hadn't been asleep at all.
Gwen sat up quickly and turned on the lamp on the nightstand. The yellow light reflected Malcom's frightened face. Her trembling finger reached out to him. "What's wrong?" She asked.
"Josie..." He said.
In the bed where he sat, he stared blankly at the darkness in front of him.
That was a reoccurring nightmare he used to have where Leila would torture him while he watched her children hang to death. But what he couldn't understand was why Josie was there.
"Josie." He groaned as he made to climb down from the bed.
"Relax, Josie's fine." Gwen tried to put him back to bed.
Malcolm refused, wincing as he put weight on his shoulder to get up. She looked at him with worried eyes and then offered to help. Slowly, they made their way to Josie's room. At her doorstep, they heared ragged breathings.
They rushed in and found Josie sitting on the bed with her back pressed against the headboard. Her arms were wrapped around a bundle of pillows and blankets, which she was clutching to her chest. Her eyes were wide with a blank stare.
Gwen went to sit on her bed. "What happened?"
"I had a nightmare," she said, her voice shaking.
Malcolm walked sluggishly close to her, reached out, and took her hand. "You're safe now," he said.
She looked up at him. "You were there, dad—In my dream."
Malcolm's brow raised. "I was?"
Josie's tremors could barely let her nod.
Malcolm and Gwen exchanged a brief look—a look of understanding passing between them. Gwen drew closer to Josie and pulled her into a hug. "It's okay, honey." She said.
* * *
When Josie opened her eyes, the sun's glow had filled her room. She sat up in bed and stretched her arms over her head, feeling her bones pop when she moved.
While she bathed in the shower, the images of her dreams flashed in her mind. The warm water poured against her bare skin, and she still shivered as she washed herself tenderly. She turned off the shower and stepped out. Cold air slapped her skin, and she shivered even more, fumbling with her towel as she dried herself up.
It was a Saturday.
Her phone chimed. It was a text from Maggie asking what time she would come to her house. She remembered they had agreed she would go over Maggie's so they could hangout and do girl stuffs. But after that confusing nightmare, she made other plans.
Hangers clicked as she moved them back and forth until she picked one out from the wardrobe, a blue jean and flannel top. As she dressed, she wondered if the dream had been an actual incident years ago.
How was she connected to it?
She recalled the terror in her father's eyes last night when he came into her room. She had never seen him so scared.
All efforts to reassure herself that it was just a figment of her imagination proved futile. She stepped out into the corridor. The floorboards gave a creaky noise beneath her feet. She heard dishes clinking in the kitchen and she took a deep breath, making her way down the stairs.
She stood in front of the doorway. Her gaze ran across the kitchen—her siblings eating cereal and chatting. Her father was reading the morning newspaper with a cup of coffee in his hand. Gwen was standing by the burner, a spatula in one hand and a mixing bowl in the other.
The kitchen was warm, and a delicious smell filled the air. She glanced over at her father and saw that he was pale and clammy, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Dad, are you okay? You don't look so good," Josie said.
"I'm a little under the weather, but I'll be fine." He smiled briefly.
After she had finished breakfast, she begged Mason to drive her to go see a friend. He agreed but their parents disapproved, but after half an hour of convincing them he was going to look after her, they agreed too.
"I'll tag along." Kira said excitedly.
Mason grabbed his car keys from the hook where they were hanging near the entrance and walked out. They followed him to the driveway, and they hopped inside his car. He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. As they pulled out of the yard, Josie glanced at her house. A pit settled at the bottom of her stomach and she turned to Mason, who focused his eyes on the road ahead.
"So, to where?" He asked.
"The ocean. I've got a friend waiting for me there." Josie said.
He looked at her through the rearview mirror and then flicked his eyes back to the windscreen.
Josie watched him from there, too.
"Something tells me you have a pretty good idea of what's going on with Dad," Josie said.
Mason was silent for a moment. "Yeah, he said he is sick. That's all I know too."
"I had a nightmare last night, and it was sort of connected to dad. When I told him that he was there in my dream, he wasn't shocked. He rather pretended to be," Josie said. "It was like he already knew."
Kira looked up from her phone, and her brows furrowed. "That's strange," she said.
Mason and Josie looked at her. They hadn't known she was paying attention to them.
"What was this dream about?" He asked.
Josie hesitated, then said. "I saw a man and a woman being executed by hanging and then a woman stood in a dark corner, then next thing, she attacked me and almost killed me." she shook her head. "The scary part was it felt so real."
"Can you remember where it happened?" Mason asked.
"Bellatrix street, in front of the clock tower, but it was like a hundred years ago. There were mud houses with thatched roofs. Horses and carriages."
"The town square used to be in Bellatrix street. It might as well be thirteen years ago." Mason said. "Westhill got developed by the new general in 2014. Before then, it had been horses and mud houses and the punishment for anyone who violates any law was death by hanging. The current general changed all that."
"I really didn't see the work dad did when he was general." Kira said.
Mason shrugged.
As Josie caught sight of the ocean, she stretched in her seat and looked further out the window.
"Could you pull over here?"
Mason stopped the car by the curb and looked at the ocean that was down the slope.
"Kira and I will drive around for a bit. Call me when you want me to pick you up."
Josie nodded and stumbled down the slope. She got closer and still had no sight of who she was meeting with. Pulling out her phone, she sent him a text asking, "where are you? I'm there already."
Seconds later, her phone chimed, and he replied with, "I'm behind you!"