Heavy rain started pouring all over the world as Becca spoke, an ominous feeling drenching the hearts of all who heard her.
I didn’t put you in here for this.
I didn’t create you so that you could surrender to your weakness.
I created you to be.
Like Me.
As she spoke, they felt ashamed of their own weakness, of their will to run and to be guided by anything that could exempt them from the burden of choosing.
Becca wanted in her deepest part, to decimate them. She felt angry, disappointed at them. But it was just expected, because She had made them like that, hoping that they could overcome their weaknesses. That they could be able to hold themselves accountable for their own deeds.
So she breathed deeply, dismissing her human emotions for the first time since forever.
In a snap of her fingers, the storm clouds dissipated, and with it the blood that reddened the earth, and the bodi
They talked and dined, laughed and shared moments of silence, and night flew by like a train heading towards its final destination.Aurora was allowed to stay with them for as long as she could stay awake, and surprisingly, she stood there, playing with everyone who wanted. Listening to their stories, drinking juice and pretending to fight with Bert, Jake and Uriel, who still didn’t get used to her features.From time to time, Uriel would go outside, followed by Don.She would cry in Don's arms, remembering the times she spent with Becca, and how it would never come to happen again.“Love...” Don would say. “Do you remember when Becca last said her goodbyes to us?”“What about it?” Ur
Becca walked through the cold morning, her medium, curly black hair, a little messed up by the wind. As if the wind itself was a playful child and her hair was nothing but a fun toy. Her white skin was rosy from the cold, her lips were a bit cracked. Besides that, along with a worried expression, the girl was quite beautiful and dressed elegantly. Even though she did it in a kind of laid-back manner.Black skinny-jeans, high-heels, white shirt, and above it all, a black overall coat, with a red scarf around her neck.She had an athletic body, almost muscular, like a featherweight fighter, and always made sure that her clothing never showed it so much.“Men don’t like muscular women”, her mom would say, every time she saw her daughter training. “You’ll never get a nice man if you keep up with this fighting rubbish.”“Shut up, old hag!” her uncle would respond, provocatively defending the young girl he always
When Becca arrived at Don’s place, it was almost afternoon. He lived pretty far away from downtown, and his house was pretty modest. A building with only one floor, very well put wooden walls, painted white, a living room, kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, everything over a completely non-suspicious basement. And to top it off, a humble yard all around the place, with trees, a garden, even a swing, yet he had no children. He could not have children, to be more precise. No fence, no guard dog, no nothing to show the least sign of security. However, not a single living being ever dared to enter his propriety, except for Becca. But the girl had his special permission to do so. And by using this permission, she stepped into the garden, feeling the soft skin-like membrane that separated the house from the outside world, falling apart to let her through, just for it to merge back together again, as if never disturbed. “Uncle Don?” Becca shouted,
Bertrand used to have strange dreams.He was 34 years old and worked as a private investigator, while acting as a consultant to the town's police department.The man had a slender, short complexion, sick-white skin, dark circles around his reddish-brown eyes, and red, medium hair.And at that hour of the night, his body trembled in bed.Because Bertrand used to have strange dreams. And in this particular dream, he was standing in the middle of a vast garden, in front of a tall, leafy tree.He looked dazed, as if not knowing where or what that place was. Yet, he searched around with a glance, to see if it was one of his usual dreams.The man knew when it was a dream or not, because of the subtle feeling of possibility.In his dreams, he usually was able to do every and any single thing he ever wanted, and even things he didn't wat to, but simply found out to be possible.And that dream felt exactly like it, only a bit stranger.
The phone inside the inner pocket of Becca’s coat rang. It was loud, annoying, one of those old, cheap models, typically used as burners. Donnovan had given the device to the girl right before she left.“I’m gonna contact you only once through this, but when I do, you’ll have the name and the address of the son of a bitch. You smash it and throw it away as soon as I hang up, you understand?” he said, the girl nodding in agreement.And there it was. Four days after the meeting with her uncle, and he already had the answer.Gladly the man hadn’t tried to contact her in these four days, not even once. Which was a bit odd, but fortunate.She heard about blackmailing from her uncle – he dealt in basically any illegal activity one could think of – and according to him, blackmailers usually clung to their victims, always trying to get more and more from them. Yet that didn’t appear to be the case with mister
Becca’s peace shattered as soon as she got home, and her ice cream lost its flavour without even reaching her spoon.When she opened her door and entered, she noticed a fat envelope laying on the floor, next to the entrance, with elegant cursive writing that said TO THE SAVIOUR OF A LIFE.When she grabbed the envelope and read it, she immediately knew who it was from, and started regretting that day.***The young girl was walking back home, from an errand she had to run to her mom, Don’s sister, Grace. And as she was about to walk past an alley, she noticed a man squatting on the floor, his face contorted with pain, his shirt, stained with red.Shadows moved at the end of the alley, probably muggers, the ones who attacked him, but there was no time to call the police or chase them. And even if she did, what would she do? Rebuke them to death? She wasn’t that type of person. If only her uncle D
After the incident with the thing in the alley, Bertrand went home, thinking of, for the very first time in his whole career, getting a decent night of sleep. Even if it came to shoving a whole bottle of sleeping pills down his throat. There simply couldn’t possibly be a way of the things he’d been experiencing to be real, yet his cheek was swollen and in pain. When he touched it, before getting in the car, he saw blood staining his fingers. And there was a mark across his face when he looked in the rearview. I’m going crazy, right? It’s not real... he thought, while driving. A whole day and night of sleep, I’ll wake up tomorrow brand new, and ready for a cup of coffee. But he didn’t. The detective got home to find that something had invaded his place. The lights were off, and he heard movement in his room. Why the fuck don’t I have a gun again? Bertrand asked himself, trying not to get too elated by
The girl felt her stomach turning onwards and backwards, an indescribable sense of vertigo taking over her.There was an actual human face in her trembling hands, shaking between her fingers, due to the intense trembling. Becca didn’t know what to think, what to feel, how to anything.She ended up vomiting on the floor, but kept herself conscious, even though her whole body wanted to pass out.She was a good person, but it didn’t mean she was fragile. She spent a few good years training with Don and watching him dealing with nasty stuff, after all.She didn’t allow herself to break.The problem was what she was going to do now.There was an invitation to that Rosenbaum’s place, and he ended up turning to be a monster.A murderer.Her mind blurred, and her senses felt like fading, but she hung on to reality, trying to think about anything that felt real. And a memory floated on her mind,