The next day, after Angelo returned from school, he sat on the couch and turned on the TV. It was the same old news — flashes of crumbling cities, panicked crowds, and glimpses of unknown beings flickering across the screen.
But Angelo kept watching. He wanted to understand what was actually going on, and why none of it seemed to affect their town.
Olivia was in the other room, tucking Emma into bed. She had played so much that she'd fallen asleep the moment her head hit the pillow. When Olivia walked into the living room, she found Angelo watching the destruction broadcasted on the news, his eyes sharp with keen interest.
She walked up to him and turned off the TV.
"Mom. Why? I was watching it," Angelo said.
"You shouldn't be watching these," Olivia replied, hands on her waist. "You already have too many nightmares."
Angelo whined, "I was just trying to understand what those things are — and why there aren't any incidents in Silverton."
Olivia set the remote down. "You should show that kind of interest toward your studies. Your grades are dropping."
Angelo sighed and leaned back into the couch. "What do you think these things are?"
Olivia's tone softened, calm but uneasy. "They're demons from hell. All of this is happening because God is angry with us humans."
"Then why is this place left standing?" Angelo asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. "People here aren't all that religious."
"Angelo!" Olivia scolded. "Don't say things like that. Be grateful this town and its people are safe."
She let out a worried sigh. "You should pray to Him for everyone's safety. He'll keep us safe."
Angelo gave a half-smirk. "Sure," he replied, his voice heavy with sarcasm. Then he wandered into the kitchen.
He started looking for snacks. As he reached for them, his arm brushed against a knife left too close to the edge of the counter. It slipped. Instinctively, he grabbed it — by the blade.
It cut deep into his right palm. He let go of the knife from pain and took a sharp, loud inhale with a groan. The knife hit the floor with a clatter.
"Angelo!" Olivia's voice carried sudden panic as she ran to him. Blood dripped from his hand — the cut was big and deep.
"What happened?" she asked.
"I grabbed the falling knife by the blade," Angelo replied, squeezing his wrist tightly.
"Hold on, I'll get the first aid kit."
Angelo clutched his right wrist with his left hand as blood dripped onto the floor. He muttered under his breath, "This is going to annoy me so much."
Olivia came running back with the first-aid kit. "Sit down," she said, motioning to the nearest chair.
Angelo sat, and Olivia cleaned the wound before wrapping it carefully in a bandage.
"Does it hurt?" she asked.
"Yeah," Angelo said, "but you know pain is just an annoyance to me."
Olivia smiled faintly. "Yea, yea. You're my strong man." She placed her hand over Angelo's head, speaking gently. "You need to be more careful, okay? We won't always be there for you. You'll have to take care of yourself when your father and I are gone."
Her words hit him like a stone. Angelo's eyes dropped; sadness welled up inside him. He suddenly hugged her tightly.
"You can't go. I won't let you or Dad go. Both of you will live a long and healthy life — along with Alex, Emma, and me."
His voice began to tremble. "Promise me you won't say that again."
Olivia stroked his hair softly. "Alright. I promise I won't say things like this again."
Angelo let her go and wiped his eyes. Olivia noticed the tears still clinging to his lashes.
"Silly boy," she said. "You started crying? I promised I wouldn't say it again, didn't I?"
"Yeah," he said, sniffling, "but when I imagined myself without you… I felt so sad and scared."
Olivia comforted him until his breathing steadied. When he finally felt better, Angelo went upstairs and lay down to rest. His eyes grew heavy, and he drifted into a nap.
A little later, Alex came home. He let out a long, tired sigh. "Today was brutal," he muttered.
He noticed Olivia cleaning blood from the floor. "Mom, did you hurt yourself?"
"No," she said. "It was your brother. He tried to catch a falling knife — with his hand."
Alex facepalmed. "That idiot's going to lose a hand one day. Where is he?"
"Upstairs, in his room. Said he'd take a nap."
"Good. I won't disturb him, then."
Alex opened the fridge and placed a packet of chocolate milk inside. "I bought chocolate milk for Angelo," he said. "Can you tell him if I forget?"
"Alright, I'll tell him," Olivia replied, finishing her cleaning. "Can you check on Emma for me?"
"Ok," Alex said.
He peeked into Emma's room — she was still sleeping peacefully.
In Angelo's room, silence stretched — until a whisper broke it.
It was close. Too close. Right by his ear.
"Wake up."
Angelo's eyes shot open. He sat up instantly, scanning the room — empty. Then, a tingling sensation crawled down his back. Before he could even think, pain exploded through his body.
A scream tore out of his throat — raw, agonized.
Olivia's heart skipped a beat. She sprinted upstairs. Alex, clutching Emma who had woken up from the scream, followed close behind. Their hearts pounded in their chests.
Angelo's screams echoed through the house. When they burst into his room, he was thrashing on the bed, twisting in unbearable pain.
A searing, unnatural heat spread across his back, blooming like wildfire beneath his skin.
"What happened!?" Olivia cried, fear in her voice.
"My back!" Angelo gasped. "It's burning!"
Alex handed Emma to Olivia and rushed to Angelo. He pulled off his T-shirt — and froze.
Symbols were appearing on Angelo's skin. They twisted and shifted, moving through his flesh, overlapping until they formed a single chaotic mark. Jagged and uneven — as if something invisible was branding him.
The skin bubbled. Smoke rose. Flesh reshaped.
Alex just stared, helpless. Olivia froze in horror. Emma cried loudly, clinging to her mother.
Angelo thrashed until the mark stopped changing — then collapsed.
"Angelo!" Olivia screamed.
Alex rushed forward, checking for a pulse. "He's alive," he said quickly. Relief washed over them — barely.
Emma quieted but refused to look at her brother.
Alex stepped back, trembling. "What do we do now? Should we take him to the hospital?"
Olivia whispered, "I don't know…"
While they spoke, Angelo stirred. He groaned and slowly sat up, dazed.
Alex approached cautiously. "How are you feeling now?"
Before Angelo could answer, a dull throb pulsed in his right hand. He quickly unwrapped the bandage.
The cut was still there — raw, red — but before their eyes, it began to close. Muscles knit, nerves reconnected, skin sealed.
In seconds, it was as if the injury never happened.
Everyone stood frozen in disbelief.
Alex whispered, "What was that?"
Olivia's eyes widened in shock. Even Emma saw it and clapped her little hands.
"Magic! Angelo, magic!" she giggled.
Olivia's voice trembled, halfway between awe and desperation. "It's a miracle," she said, tears gathering in her eyes. "God is protecting you. You must thank Him. Pray more, my son. Every day."
But Angelo said nothing. He just stared at his hand — the hand that had reversed time.
Then he remembered the whisper. That voice. So close. So cold.
Wake up.
It didn't sound like God. It didn't sound divine. It sounded ancient. Ominous.
He forced a weak smile to calm his mother. But deep down, he already knew — this wasn't holy.
And whatever had marked him…
…it had only just begun.