The Evil That Came

Part 5: Victoria

Victoria's days were a relentless cycle of confinement. Locked inside her room, she became an unwilling witness to the symphony of cruelty that echoed through the walls. The air carried curses—sharp and venomous—trading places between man and boy and boy and man: each slap, each whip's cruel kiss against the flesh.

Her sanctuary was a prison, her bedroom, but safer than the world beyond. Outside her door, the world was ablaze with torment. Victoria's mother left for work, unknowingly leaving the children with hate incarnate. The house absorbed her absence, leaving Victoria alone with the ghosts of pain.

After her father left for the local bar late, the doorpad to her room trembled. Victoria's breath hitched, and fear clung like a second skin. "Open the door," the voice commanded. It was not angry, not joyful—just a chilling calm that sent shivers down her spine.

The door swung open, revealing a face etched in malevolence. It was him—the boy who wore cruelty like a crown—her brother. The very sight of him twisted her insides. She longed to say she didn't know him, that he was a stranger. But truth gnawed at her—the boy who tormented her even in his absence was family.

His eyes bore into hers, devoid of remorse. He stepped over the threshold, bringing with him the same viciousness that haunted her nightmares. Victoria's room, once a refuge, now embodied her nightmare in the flesh. She wondered if her dreams were merely reflections of her waking reality—a relentless loop of pain and fear.

Victoria's heart clenched. She had no escape from this living nightmare. The door stood open, but freedom remained elusive. Her brother's presence was a curse she couldn't shake—a relentless reminder that some demons wore familiar faces. And so, she braced herself for another onslaught, her solitude shattered by the boy who exemplified her darkest fears. 

Victoria felt as if her world had crashed.

"How did you open the door?" asked Victoria, wide-eyed in disbelief.

Viktor smiled with malice glossed across his lips.

"I broke it," he said, flexing his fingers.

Then Viktor set out toward Victoria, his eyes eerily blank.

With her green eyes filling up with tears like a reservoir waiting to spill over. He picked her up and looked her straight in the eye. "Don't you ever lock me out, you hear me!?" Viktor spat in her face and dropped her onto the floor.

Victoria's dreams of safety were shattered like glass when Viktor's rage collided with the doorpad. The room now felt like a coffin. Alone and unheard, she yearned for escape from this hell, but the walls pressed in, unyielding. She whispered secrets to the shadows in the darkness, hoping they'd carry her anguish away, but the shadows never responded; they were only silent observers. She cried herself to sleep as the cold floor cradled her, its unforgiving surface a mirror of her pain, her tears soaking the computerized metallic floor around her. 

In the morning, Victoria stirred, her curly reddish-brown hair tangled. The door creaked open, and her father stepped inside. "My sweet girl," he murmured, fingers gentle on her scalp. "You shouldn't sleep on the cold floor; you'll get sick."

Victoria blinked, disoriented. "What are you doing here?"

His smile held secrets—amusement, perhaps love. "I wanted to see if you're okay." He kissed her cheek, a fleeting warmth. "Now that I see you're okay, I'll leave for work." Victoria knew he was lying. Victoria knew Zoran never needed to work, but she let him believe she didn't know where he was.

 Somehow, Zoran received a monthly disability stipend. But Robos, they are physically resilient. The world before coming to Earth had a slightly heavier atmosphere than Earth. And yet, Zoran found the one thing on Earth that could break him.