OTHERS: Five elements

CHAPTER 2.8: FIRE

2 July 2031, 07:30 PM

Twelve hours later, I woke up with a throbbing headache. It was dull but constant, like a distant drumbeat echoing through my skull. Something wasn’t right. My head was cloudy, and my body felt… foreign, as if it didn’t quite belong in my own skin. My arms tingled, and my hands felt hot and strangely numb.

Dragging myself out of bed, I stumbled into the bathroom, gripping the sink’s edge to steady myself. The mirror reflected a face I barely recognized: my hair was wild, eyes unfocused, skin pale. As I stared at myself, my breathing grew heavy, each inhale and exhale sounding louder and harsher, echoing in my mind.

Then, faint but clear, I heard it. A voice. A sinister whisper snaking its way through my thoughts.

- "Kill..."

The word echoed, cold and merciless. I clutched my head, shutting my eyes tightly, trying to drown out the sound, but it only grew louder, more insistent.

- "No!" I muttered, pressing my hands to my temples.

I searched my mind, trying to piece together what had happened last night. Images flashed before my eyes - Deniel, the motel, the horrifying look in his eyes… Then my family, my sister’s mocking tone, my parents’ disapproval. My sister’s voice drifted through my memory, as clear as if she was standing right beside me: mocking, smug, taunting me about Deniel. At that moment, my sister was standing by the bathroom door.

- "Look who’s back" said my sister mockingly.

As soon as I heard her voice, anger surged through my body. That annoying, shrill voice of hers again. Just what I needed. As if it wasn’t enough to hear voices in my head, now I had to listen to her too.

- "What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?"

- "Will you just shut up already."

- "Oh, someone’s angry. Don’t tell me your lover left you. Or worse—did he use you and then dump you? Judging by the bruises on your neck, I’d say that’s the case. I knew it. He just wanted to use you. That’s how men are. Honestly, it would’ve been better if someone richer fucked you, not some guy from the slums."

As I listened to her, my gaze locked onto the scissors lying on the sink. My father often left them there after trimming his beard. In that moment, two voices were battling in my head: my sister’s shrill voice and the voice inside me. With every second, the second voice grew louder and louder.

- "End her. Take the scissors and silence her forever."

In the end, something inside me snapped. Without thought, driven by pure instinct, I took the scissors, advanced towards her, and plunged them into her neck. Mariana’s eyes flew open in pain and terror. She looked at me, bewildered, and her hands were shaking as they clutched her bleeding neck.

- "P-Paola! Wh-why…?"

- "Because you never shut up" I said coldly.

Leaving my sister writhing in pain, I turned and walked downstairs. The voice continued, goading me, almost laughing as I moved. My mother was the first to notice blood staining from my hands. Without a second thought, I lunged at my mother, driving the scissors into her stomach. She fell to the floor without uttering a single sound. My father saw everything. He hurried toward me and pried the scissors from my hands.

- "What’s happening here? What is wrong with you?"

I didn’t respond. I simply stared at him, my mind racing with ways to inflict pain on him for yesterday’s conversation. He moved closer, attempting to calm me down, but I stopped him. I threw him against the wall with a strength I didn’t know I possessed. He hit the wall with a sickening thud, slumping to the floor. As I walked towards him something caught my eye: a photograph on the dresser. I was no more than five, dressed up in a Halloween costume, proudly holding a toy stethoscope around my neck. I wanted to be a doctor. I’d wanted to save lives. The memory flooded back, washing over me, clearing away the haze, as I was staring at my blood-stained hands in horror.

- "What… what have I done?" I whispered, feeling the weight of reality crashing down around me.

Tears streamed down my face as I backed away, my breath shallow and panicked. Grabbing my phone from my pocket with trembling hands, I dialed Deniel, my heart pounding with desperation. But the call went to voicemail. Over and over, I tried, my chest tightening with each failed attempt. Finally, in a blur of panic, I remembered the two soldiers who had confronted Deniel last night. If anyone knew where he might be, it was them.

While I was thinking about how to find him, a figure stepped out from around the corner, watching me. It was my younger brother. Hidden in the shadows, he had seen everything. His face was pale with shock, his eyes wide with horror. He didn’t say a word, just stood there in silence. I walked up to him and, in an attempt to comfort him, wrapped him in a hug.

- "I’m so sorry for what happened. Take the phone and call an ambulance. I have to go. I think this will be the last time we see each other. I love you, Pablo!"

Leaving my brother alone in the house, I walked away to find Deniel. I knew there was no turning back for me, no returning to that house ever again.