The Evil That Came

Part 9: Departure

Greg, late and disheveled, stumbled into the examining room. Matilda's presence now enveloped his gaze, which was usually focused on charts, diagnoses, and new ideas. She stood there, curls framing her face, a glow that transcended mere beauty. Greg's smile was a thin line between professionalism and desire."Hey, beautiful," he stammered, "I got lost in my charts. His undereyes darkened, and his pores reeked of coffee.

Matilda's silence spoke volumes. As the air dropped 20 degrees, she felt goosebumps rise along her skin. It was as if Greg was looking through her. She knew that look. The way his reverent eyes glazed over when he was around her. Lisa, always the light in his eyes. Now dulled from years of loving a ghost 

 She stepped into the room and smiled curtly, and shuddered. Greg returned the smile, then gave a confused, heavy frown as he watched Matilda's reaction.

"You're late." The frost in her demeanor seemed to reappear.

Victoria sat up as the glass door slid open. A stranger stood before her—brown hair, bright eyes. Strange, yet oddly captivating. Victoria wondered about Matilda's origins, her accent a subtle mystery.

Matilda introduced herself cheerily, the slight accent confirming her roots were far from North America. "I'm Matilda Barie," she said, "here to discharge and send you home."

Victoria nodded, curiosity piqued. But her attention shifted when Greg entered, his sadness visible. His demeanor surprised Matilda, causing her to press her lips together.   Victoria's father, Zoran, noticed, too, pinching his face as his suspicion brewed. Greg looked down at Zoran, his eyes heavily focused on Greg's movements, was a man whose aura imbued anger.  

Love, unspoken and tangled, wove its threads. Greg's heartache was raw, laid bare by Victoria's imminent departure. Matilda observed her professional facade cracking. And Victoria's mother embraced her daughter, oblivious to the silent drama unfolding.

When Victoria came home, Her Mother and Father went to their respective jobs, except her Father would go to the bar instead. She walked inside to find her older brother Viktor standing in front of the door, smiling his mischievous little smile, those beady eyes scarred into your soul, reminding you of all the hate in the world.

"Ah, so you're the talk of the town now," Viktor taunted.

"Viktor, don't start," she warned. She tried to move around him.

Unfazed, Viktor, mirroring her movements, continued, "So, the star treatment has made you feel superior to us, Robos. You think you're one of them now? A Human?"

Victoria sighed. "I'm tired, Viktor. I just got back from the doctor's." 

But Viktor was relentless. "You're not going to get any rest here. You know how I feel about humans. And you, you're their little pet project. Do you think they've suddenly stopped fearing us? They've just hidden us away in this so-called 'community center.' They're afraid, and they don't want us around. And in this house, we don't entertain humans. You'll pay for this, you little human wannabe." Viktor felt a wave of heat rise in him, a hatred for her, a desire to destroy her; he didn't want to, but he felt he had to. 

Victoria's heart pounded at Viktor's threats.

Seeing the fear in her eyes, Viktor let out a great laugh. "You'd better pray you survive the week," he taunted.

Victoria despised Viktor; her loathing for him was so intense that she fantasized about strangling him while he slept. But she knew she couldn't do it—something deep within her harbored affection for him, an affection that surpassed even his self-love.

She attempted to retreat to her room, but Viktor grabbed her by the hair and yanked her into his room. His muscles tightened as she held back her screams, remembering the consequences of the last time she had cried out. Viktor had struck her so hard that her jaw had slightly fractured from the impact. He roughly tossed Victoria into the room, his fist poised to strike. But then, the doorbell rang. Viktor shot Victoria a menacing glare and ordered her to stay put.