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It seems he has finally tracked me down. I sense his presence in the hallway long before he opens his mouth. The foul stench of decay announces his arrival like a blast from a broken trumpet.
“ There you are. ”
At first, I give him the cold shoulder, my head feeling like a lead weight that refuses to budge. I kneel there, my gaze glued to the cement floor, as if it holds the answers to all my questions. After what feels like an eternity, I finally gather enough strength to break the silence, “When did he leave?”
“ About thirty minutes ago ,” I hear a response.
He’s right, the once comforting warmth of his body has long vanished from my embrace. The room feels cold, empty, but this somehow pulls me back from the depths of my stupor. My bones ache as I straighten my back and look at Wayne. I can see him lurking in the shadows, peeking out from behind the corner. He looks as ugly as always, but now his soiled shirt bears three large scratches across the chest. I can’t help but smirk at the sight.
“Seems like Reese gave you a run for your money.”
Wayne emits a strange kind of coughing sound and I realize he’s laughing.
“ He managed to catch me off-guard. Those constructs of his were an interesting little trick, but that's all they were. ”
A moment later, he asks, “ What happened here? ”
A wave of dread washes over me. The brief hug with Reese and the daze that followed after had managed to distract me, but now, the realization of what had happened begins to creep back. I survey the frigid, inhospitable confines of the safe room and the sight of blood on the walls, ceiling, and floor feels like an icepick to the heart. It’s there, but I can’t seem to focus on it for longer than a second before my brain goes haywire.
“She’s dead,” I say, my voice quivering.
“ Did he hurt you? ” Wayne inquires, but I have no intention of indulging him with a response. I’m already on my feet, a bit shaky from the fading adrenaline, passing him by on my way to the kitchen. By the time he catches up to me, I’m kneeling beneath the sink, extracting the bleach from an assortment of cleaning supplies.
“ Are you attempting to cover up the murder scene? ” he asks, his tone revealing more surprise than horror.
“A missing local doctor is bound to stir up more buzz than the town farmer or niche Youtuber. There’s no chance those clueless cops will ignore this, but they won’t immediately suspect murder if there is no blood.” Words spill out of my lips, but nothing seems to sink in. I pick up a pair of gloves, a few rags and sponges and return to the safe room. My movements are mechanical, my thoughts hone in on a singular purpose. Wayne neither lends a hand nor intervenes. Instead, he looms above me like a vulture.
As I cross the threshold into the room, the image of Doc’s terrified face bursts into my mind, vivid and jarring, as if someone just jumpscared me with a flash photo. I almost drop my cleaning supplies as I freeze.
“ You don’t need to cover for that pathetic waste of flesh, ” I hear Wayne from the hallway. His words make my blood boil.
“Not a single word about Reese or I’ll punch you right in that bloated face of yours,” I raise my voice at him while slipping on my gloves.
“ You’ve gotten so attached to him. What a shame... I don’t suspect he’s long for this world. ”
“Don’t you lay a finger on him, do you hear me? I love him and I’m gonna protect him!”
He cocks his head, the damp veil swaying heavily over his shoulder. “ Even after what he did? ”
“He did nothing wrong! It’s all her fault! She brought this all upon herself!” At this point, I find myself yelling, fueled by rising emotions and the need to overpower the loud, deafening static that buzzes in my head.
Wayne appears utterly unfazed by my outburst. His tone remains as lifeless as his rotting carcass of a body. “ Even if I don’t put him out of his misery, someone else will, eventually. I’m sure your infatuation will fade with time. ”
“Shut up!”
Before I can even process what’s happening, my arm takes on a life of its own, launching a wooden scrub brush toward Wayne. With a loud thunk, it strikes him in the arm, then drops to the ground beside his foot. The impromptu assault fails to bother him. While he stands there stiffly, I can’t stop shaking, my heart pounding inside my ribcage. The metallic scent of blood in the room churns my stomach, but it’s the haunting memory of the one who shed it that grips me, making me feel as if I’m buried alive, gasping for breath…
My mind drifts back to Charlie, his small, withered body resting beneath layers of soil, a gaping void in his skull courtesy of my dear great grandmother’s handiwork. I still remember the vision, her raising the baseball bat above her head, ready to strike…
The children are to repeat the sins of the parents…
Hello darkness, my old friend…
Removing the bloodstains proves to be far more challenging than I had anticipated. Though my knees and back ache, and my hands are sore even under the gloves, I’m so caught up in my own thoughts that I manage to push all of this discomfort aside. I’m planning, thinking about the upcoming days and how to shift focus from the Kellys’ disappearance without raising any alarms. I’m also thinking about Reese, alone in the woods, scared, but finally free. If all goes well, no one will suspect him of anything. Even the nauseating smell becomes part of the background at some point.
Breathe in, breathe out. Focus.
The routine of the task at hand lulls me into a trance until Wayne finally speaks up, breaking the silence and making my heart jump. I forgot he was here.
“ It’s getting late. You should go back to the Estate. ”
“Helping me would have made it go much faster. What, scared you’ll break a nail — or maybe a bone in the process?” I couldn’t help but be snarky.
By now, the majority of the stains have been scrubbed away, leaving only a few stubborn spots behind. But honestly, I’m not that worried about them, knowing the competence of the Scarlet Hollow police force. They’ll likely overlook these or. Who knows, maybe they’ll skip this room entirely in their grand investigation. I can just picture Sheriff Hugby scratching his head and concluding that Doctor Kelly simply decided to embark on “an extended hunting trip”... in the dead of night, in the middle of the week, with her terminally ill son in tow. By the time they decide to take any actions, the week will be over and I’ll manage to take the bus with Reese. He’ll finally be free from this nightmare once and for all…
Yet the return remains up in the air.
Well, ain’t that just uplifting .
My inner conflict is interrupted by Wayne’s monotonous voice, “ I find your endeavour pointless, but at least it keeps you away from doing anything more reckless… like looking for that mistake in the middle of the night. ”
I lose my cool again. “He’s not a mistake! He’s a human being who was lied to and imprisoned by his own mother!”
The memory of my first meeting with Reese floods back and my cheeks turn red. It’s a mix of anger at Wayne’s remark and, I guess, my undeniable affection. What started as a childish crush on a cute Edward Cullen-looking guy who called me “a cat he can jive with” took an unexpected turn... When we made our way through the clinic during our investigation, the chemistry between us, sparked by innocent jokes and stifled chuckles, was unmistakable. Then there were his icy grey eyes looking up from his sketchbook, piercing right through me, as if he was trying to draw the very essence of my soul... Something within him drives away the darkness that has tormented me for most of my life… So much so, that I remained blind to his true self — a creature with many teeth and magical painted minions — until, in a moment of overwhelming emotions, he set it free.
The storm has arrived, leaving destruction in its wake that cannot be undone.
Well, when you say it like that, no thunder he stormed out so fast…
I chuckle at my own ridiculous pun. It’s a piercing, untamed cackle that teeters on the brink of tears. Wayne appears to ignore my unraveling psyche. In fact, it’s as if he’s eager to stoke the flames even higher.
“ She did what she did for good reason, I assure you. ”
“Don’t justify what she did!” My laugh turns into screaming. “She locked him up and kept him away from his friends, AND KEPT POISONING HIM UNTIL HE COULDN’T EVEN LIVE A NORMAL LIFE! What kind of mother would ever do such a thing?! She just assumed that he was dangerous and it made me so furious I
(passed judgement)...
I
(refused to give her the tranquilizer)...
I
(killed her)… ”
I stagger backward, narrowly avoiding tripping over the bottle of bleach. Instead, my arm collides with the wall as I lean against it. I can’t breathe, my throat refuses to open. The smell of blood and bleach is choking me. Doctor Kelly’s face stares at me in disbelief.
(It’s all her fault. It’s all her fault. It’s all her fault. It’s all her fault. It’s all her fault.)
Wayne’s voice pierces through the static, “ You did nothing, Agatha. He is to blame for all of this pointless bloodshed. This is what he is: a weapon. You should not stand up for him. ”
“N-no… I saved him, I helped him escape.” Why does it sound like an excuse?
Breathe in, breathe out.
“ You are taking away his agency in the matter. He was not a helpless princess locked in a basement, waiting to be saved by a knight in shining armor. ”
“No, I did the right thing! I’ve been trying to do the right thing this whole time! I saved Gretchen
(and now Duke is dead) ,
I saved those kids in the mines
(Rosalina had to have her foot amputated) ,
I set Charlie free after he was wronged by my family
(Tabitha lost years of her life)
... I… I…”
My mind is a mess. The static hums inside my brain, a relentless swarm, drowning out even the whispers. Shadows dance at the edges of my vision, narrowing my focus to a pinprick. Vivid scenes flash before me: Duke’s shattered skull, Rosalina’s mangled foot, Tabitha clawing her way out of a makeshift grave, Joan’s final look at me before she turns around to face her son…
Enoch Scarlet’s smug face when he informs Shaw about the stability of the support struts… Edwardine Scarlet about to deliver a fatal blow to her lover’s head…
All of this starts blending in together. Suddenly, it’s me who’s swinging the bat at surprised and terrified Doctor Kelly.
(It’s all her fault. It’s all her fault. It’s all her fault. It's all my fault. It’s all her fault. It’s all her fault. It’s all her fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.)
Breathe in, breathe out. Focus on action. Do something to distract yourself.
I take off my gloves and I collect all the cleaning supplies gathered around me. Once everything is stacked neatly, my gaze drifts to the tranquilizer gun discarded on the floor. I reach for it, surprised by its lightness as I cradle it in my hands, positioning it carefully against the growing pile. The small bottle of carfentanil I snatched from Doc’s cabinet is tucked away in my pocket, along with a sleeve of dart needles. Knowing my luck, I might need it this week…
What would Tabitha think if she knew I was hiding deadly drugs?
Stop. Don’t think about this. Focus on action. What’s next?
The sketchbook in the basement. There’s my portrait in it. The police will know I was here.
I turn to Wayne, pointing at the pile, “Be a good zombie and dispose of these in the woods.” Before he can object, I make a mad dash towards the basement.
The house, smeared in paint from top to bottom, stands eerily quiet, slowly settling in as though nothing had happened. This almost feels surreal. The chaotic thud of my feet on the kitchen floor breaks the silence.
Finally, I reach Reese’s bedroom. In an instant, a whirlwind of past emotions sweeps through me: gleeful excitement, tingling anticipation, indescribable fear… only to be followed by a sinking realization that this place will forever be haunted by memories.
I thought I could manage this. I fought to maintain my composure, but when I find myself alone in the place where it all began, my sanity collapses like a house of cards. And once my eyes land on Reese’s drawing left on the floor, I can’t help but drop to my knees.
Before our art session was so rudely interrupted, most of my face had already been outlined. Reese poured all his attention into my eyes, capturing every detail with precision, free from any muddiness. I think of my eyes as haunted, heavy-lidded from a lifetime of visions and nightmares, yet in Reese’s sketch, they shine bright and vibrant, looking playfully from under half-closed lids… I grab the paper from the floor, my fingers smudging the pencil graphite as I glide them across the surface. I never imagined someone would see me this way. At this point, tears are streaming down my face, raw and unrestrained.
Reese saw me as an angel, but I turned out to be a monster who killed his mother.
No. He was the one who ripped her apart and ate her… I know this, yet I can’t help but feel like I committed the murder myself. It’s like the memory glitches right before Reese kills Doctor Kelly, replacing it with me bludgeoning her with a baseball bat. Maybe if I hadn’t been here, none of this would have happened…
(It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.)
… if I hadn’t been here, he’d still be ‘sick’, forever confined in his room, waiting for death to come…
(It’s all her fault. It’s all her fault. It’s all her fault. It’s all her fault. It’s all her fault.)
… but if I had intervened instead of backing off, things might not have ended as they did…
(It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.)
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to the void, feeling the silence swallow my words whole.
I sit there, frozen. Before I know it, Wayne’s heavy work boots are thudding down the wooden steps.
“ I see you’re still here, ” he says, stopping in the middle of the basement stairs. “ I did what you asked me to. ”
“I know what you’re going to say, but I need to know…” At this point all my anger and sadness have dissipated, replaced by the cold weight of apathy. “Did I do the right thing?”
I expect him to be passive aggressive, but his tone feels comforting for once.
“ You did what you thought was right. You are lucky you remained unscathed throughout this whole ordeal. ”
“Reese would have not hurt me. He had plenty of opportunities to do so, but he didn’t. All he cared about was to get rid of his oppressor before she could hurt him again, or somebody else. He was the victim here…”
“ You were both blinded by your distorted sense of justice. If Tabitha were here in the clinic with you, she would have known what to do with that pathetic weakling. ”
“She would never—”
Wouldn’t she, though? I can feel my heart sinking at the thought.
Childhood memories come flooding back — a balmy summer night by the Hudson, the air a strong blend of saltwater and Marlboro Light. Mom is sitting in her rocking chair, while I dangle my feet from the porch steps, looking at the distant Verrazzano-Narrows Bridge. Back then on Staten Island, everything seemed so far away. I can tell Mom has had a bit too much alcohol as she spins tales of her grandmother and sister’s misdeeds — vague yet vivid enough to send shivers down a small child’s spine. The Scarlets are Bad People, Agatha, she would say. Stay away from them and never set foot in Scarlet Hollow . You will only get hurt.
I snap back to reality.
“You know what, Wayne? I always thought I was the Good Scarlet who could save this family. Sure, I’ve come to understand that life isn’t so black and white, and morality can be pretty complicated… but after seeing all those visions, I’m having trouble looking at my family as anything but evil. But let me tell you one thing: Tabitha is not one of the Bad Scarlets. She’s rough around the edges, but she gave up her years to atone for the horrible shit our family got away with… There is no way that she would ever do something bad to Reese.”
“ Good or Bad, you are both Scarlets. And Tabitha would stop at nothing to keep you alive. ”
“Wow, you really know how to cheer me up,” I say as I feel my chest tighten.
I survey the scene and my eyes land on a curious sight. The tattered remains of Reese’s sweater, scattered across the floor after he… decided he didn’t need it anymore, I guess. I fold the drawing and tuck it into my pocket before I go examine the torn pieces of fabric. I pull the sleeve taut with both hands, sensing the texture beneath my fingertips. I think I can still salvage it. The thought ignites a spark of hope — as if by mending Reese’s sweater, I can piece his broken life together through it. Aware of how awkward it would look, especially with Wayne watching, I lean in closer, inhaling the faint trace of Reese’s skin woven into the fabric. The scent sends shivers down my spine, transforming into a warm, electrifying wave of comfort.
Oh, please be safe out there.
“ This took long enough, ” I hear Wayne’s voice as I wrap the sweater around my waist. “ We need to go. ”
“I know,” I say, “but there’s one last thing I want to do.”
“ What is it? ” Is that annoyance in his voice? The satisfaction of getting him riled up is too great to resist.
“The right thing. I hope.”
My pace is much less erratic as I climb up the stairs and make my way towards the medical storage room. Given the Kellys’ disappearance, the clinic may be closed during the police investigation, and while I secretly wish for the cops to continue their bumbling ways, I can’t help but acknowledge that the impending chaos might leave a few innocent souls caught in the crossfire. It takes me no less than a few minutes of snooping to find the key to the prescription drug cabinet. Doctor Kelly, you were a mother of questionable merit, but you possessed an uncanny talent for organizing stuff. I sift through the content of the cabinet until I find a small paper bag stapled shut with a label on it. Rosalina Maria Gutierrez. Let’s hope the medicine can be stored at room temperature.
“We need to stop by the library,” I tell Wayne, cradling the bag in my arms on my way out. If he were a little less dead inside, he would probably let out a painful sigh.
I’m surprised when I find the library door unlocked, I guess the Holler really is this welcoming. I motion for Wayne to stay put outside as I slip into the giant room, my heart racing as I tread lightly, striving to keep my footsteps from reverberating through the hallway. I arrive at Oscar’s desk, situated beneath the imposing mural of Charles Shaw being driven out of town. Looking at it, I can’t help but feel guilty.
Having set the bag atop the desk, I turn around to find Pixel materializing from the shadows of the library stairs. I guess I caught him during his nightly zoomies. His gaze is filled with curiosity, yet before he can voice his questions, I place a finger to my lips. The cat casts a fleeting glance my way, then elegantly ascends the steps, silent as a shadow.
“It’s done,” I say to Wayne once I’m outside and I feel as if the weight of these words has been lifted off my shoulders.
“ Good. It’s late ,” he remarks. “ There’s plenty to do tomorrow. ”
He leads me up the hill toward the Estate, his presence a quiet force beside me. The cold, relaxing night air offers a moment of respite after the turmoil of the day. I look around the woods, ignoring the myriad of Ditchlings peeking through the trees, in hope of catching a glimpse of Reese slipping through the shadows.
Finally, we arrive at the entrance of the Estate. Wayne turns around to look at me.
“ I’m sure we’ll see each other tomorrow. You should try to spend some time in that old building before you head to town... Tabitha won’t be around, too busy at the mines. Forbidden places won't be forbidden without her there to stop you. And you might be surprised at what you find. ”
“Normally, I’d suggest you take a hike,” I respond, “but maintaining a low profile might be a smart move.”
That is true, yet I keep my intentions to search for Reese later that day to myself.
Thinking he finally won me over, Wayne bids me good night and disappears into the underbrush.
It is at that moment that the aches and pains of today finally settle in. Suddenly, a wave of exhaustion washes over me, my legs trembling and refusing to cooperate after the relentless hours of running and kneeling. The metallic scent of blood mingles with the acrid tang of paint and bleach clinging to my skin and hair. My eyes, parched from the tears, feel like they might never regain their moisture. I know this is my lowest point, so when I open the door to the Estate and see Tabitha in the hallway, I stop mid-step. It’s as if time itself has decided to hit the pause button, leaving me rooted to the spot. Tabitha scans me from head to toe, her aged-up face shifting from a frown to a look of concern.
“We were supposed to eat ice cream together, remember?” she says, her voice laced with a blend of worry and letdown that hangs in the air between us. “What happened to you? Did you find Stella?”
Ice cream? Stella? Oh my God, I forgot about everything!
I can feel my body shaking. Guilt swallows me whole.