"Gasp!" Katherine sat up abruptly, drenched in cold sweat, her chest rising and falling frantically, an inexplicable fear invading every fiber of her being.
Images flashed in her memory, chaotic and fleeting: twisted trees, pools of blood, sharp claws, a pair of yellow eyes gleaming with malice under the light of a full moon. She could smell the metallic scent of blood and feel the crunch of leaves under her feet, as if it were all real, but seen through someone else's eyes. The fear, pain, and despair of this person were transmitted to Katherine with terrifying intensity.
Only the sunlight streaming through the window gradually brought warmth back to her trembling body. She hadn't noticed how cold she was, nor the visible breath coming out in cold clouds from her parted lips.
"Not again," Katherine said, her voice trembling with a mixture of reluctance and self-deception. "This is not the same thing that happened with Olivia. It was just a nightmare, probably from eating so much so late," she murmured, trying to fill the oppressive silence of the room and convince herself at the same time.
She didn't want it to be true, not again. And although a part of her, the part that felt connected to the supernatural, told her she was wrong, Katherine still preferred to believe that it was all just another nightmare.
"It was just a nightmare." Katherine murmured. She repeated those words like a mantra until she convinced herself. Her desperation to ignore the truth, to keep her biggest secret buried, was palpable.
Seeing the dead, that Katherine could accept and process. At least it made sense if one believed in the existence of the soul and the afterlife. As a Protestant-Catholic, such beliefs were not a huge logical leap, though it took her years to accept her situation. Accepting that her childhood imaginary friends were ghosts was difficult, but she overcame it.
The visions, on the other hand, were a different story. These fleeting and disconcerting visions had no explanation. There had been only half a dozen in recent years, none with apparent meaning. They were disconnected fragments whose only common thread was death.
It was precisely because of that central theme that Katherine was so uncomfortable with the visions and had never shared them with anyone. Not only were they blurry and brief, but they also terrified her deeply.
Even the vision about Olivia's death a year ago did nothing but corroborate what she already knew: nothing. These visions were not only viscerally terrifying but also made her question why all her supernatural abilities were so tied to death.
With practiced skill, Katherine left behind the depressing thoughts and prepared to start the day. Her pajamas fell to the floor, and after several failed attempts to toss them into the hamper with her foot, she resigned herself to doing it the old-fashioned way. She pulled out a denim overall-type short from her closet and paired it with black stockings, a white blouse, and her favorite pink sweatshirt. Nodding in satisfaction, she completed the outfit with red sneakers that she had to pull out from under the bed. 'No idea how they ended up there,' she thought.
With everything ready, Katherine grabbed a towel and prepared to take a bath. "Oh, wait, underwear." With the sound of drawers opening and clothes being moved carelessly, it took a minute for Katherine to emerge from her room with a simple set of white underwear.
With little time before assuming her tasks in the church kitchen, Katherine couldn't enjoy her bath. She only allowed herself a minute of enjoyment before religiously washing every part of her body. Despite the rush, she could still enjoy the little things, like the bath gel and shampoo that Cassidy had given her.
"Although I still think the strawberry scent is a bit childish," she murmured with a smile. Despite such words leaving her lips, it was hard to take them seriously given how comfortable and motivated she looked; not that anyone was there to see her.
In a hurry, Katherine dried herself and changed one piece of clothing at a time. Her morning bad mood faded during the process. 'The bra is a bit tight,' she thought, feeling a small satisfaction. Not that she wanted explosive growth in her feminine attributes, but she would be lying if she said her size didn't bother her a bit, just like her height and childish appearance.
Once ready, Katherine went out prepared for battle in the kitchen, with a jovial smile on her lips and a slight spring in her step, indicative of how much she cared about the matter, although she wouldn't admit it openly. In the back of her mind, she made a note to get new clothes.
Unfortunately, happiness and peace had never been constants in Katherine's life, and that morning was no exception. And in this particular case, it was a new discovery and a cruel truth that wiped the smile off the redhead's lips.
There, standing at the church door, were two men she knew very well.
Father Viktor, an elderly man with a severe yet compassionate look, and Inspector Willingham, tall and unflappable, made a strange pair.
Encountering either of them separately usually meant that Katherine had gotten into some trouble, but seeing them together always meant that someone else had had a bad day… their last bad day.
"Please, no," Katherine murmured, unable to take her eyes off Father Viktor and Inspector Willingham. Her voice was barely a whisper, loaded with fear and despair.
Unfortunately, as it had been her whole life, Katherine didn't get what she wanted. Her heart sank at the sound of the inspector's grave voice. "The Blackthorn family is waiting for you. It will take some time to release young Jonathan's body, at least until the autopsy is finished, but we will do our best to handle the process as respectfully as possible." The inspector's voice carried the weight of the delivered news, although the man showed no emotion on his face, whether due to professionalism or insensitivity, it was hard to tell.
"Thank you, Inspector. We will do everything we can on our side to support the family. Notify me if there's anything else we can do for you," Father Viktor responded with a solemn tone of voice.
"Actually, there is one thing you can do for me. I'd like to talk to little Kath. I understand she and Jonathan have known each other for years, and they had a small conflict yesterday, so you'll understand that I have some questions for her." The inspector's response was quick, clear, and seemed prepared in advance.
Father Viktor frowned, his posture became less open, and his voice turned defensive. "I hope you don't believe that our Kath had anything to do with young Jonathan's death."
"Of course not, it's just routine, I hope you understand." The inspector was quick to deny that such suspicions existed, which relaxed Father Viktor.
Despite the brief calm, Katherine remained paralyzed in a place like a deer caught in headlights. She could only watch as both men's attention turned to her. Inspector Willingham, with his disheveled uniform and piercing gaze, radiated an authority that could be intimidating. On the other hand, Father Viktor, in his black cassock and wrinkled face, showed genuine concern for Katherine.
However, it wasn't the men's presence that disturbed Katherine but the news she had just heard: Jonathan Blackthorn was dead. Her breathing became erratic, her hands trembled, and she felt a knot in her stomach. The coldness of fate and the weight of the news crushed her chest. The echo of the inspector's words resonated in her mind as she tried to process what she had just heard.
The idea that someone she had known all her life was now dead bewildered and terrified her. Her mind couldn't stop wandering to the strange vision she had had while sleeping. "Please, someone tell me it's not true," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, loaded with despair.
Little did she know that her difficulties had just begun. A long day awaited her, full of unanswered questions and an unsettling feeling that everything was about to change.