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Chapter 3 - The calm before the Storm

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Victor woke up groggily, his body still felt a little sore from yesterday.

Quickly checking himself, he noticed that the bruises from yesterday were healing and that there were no new injuries.

He also checked the recording and all was normal, no one broke into his room.

Only some occasional tossing and turning from himself.

"Figures, I was overreacting after all," he gave a self depreciating laugh.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a while, the morning sun streaking in through the blinds.

It felt softer than usual. A rare calm and quiet.

The tension in his chest had loosened, like an old knot finally unwinding.

Maybe it really was just stress. It was said that the mind could play tricks when left alone too long.

Still, he didn't feel like staying in.

He grabbed his sketchpad and headed to the park.

The fresh air did wonders.

The sky was an uninterrupted blue, the kind that felt like it stretched forever. Bright and beautiful.

Children chased each other around a fountain while elderly couples strolled by with small dogs.

Victor sat on a shaded bench near the edge of the walking trail, watching quietly.

The serenity and tranquility of the scene made him feel quite relaxed.

And for the first time in a while, his thoughts felt quiet.

He flipped open the sketchpad and started drawing. The image of a crooked tree with tangled roots slowly unfolded, bending slightly as if reaching for something.

His hand moved slowly and calmly. The scene around him put him at ease.

His fingers continuously glided over the paper with a strange grace, knuckles clean and nails neat.

His hands were beautiful, slender and precise, almost artistic. Out of place on someone so otherwise average, so unremarkable...

It had always been that way.

A small detail people often noticed and complimented, though Victor never knew what to make of it.

He stared at them for a second, vaguely detached, before returning to the drawing.

"I need to stop being so dramatic," he muttered with a small smile.

"A couple of scratches and I start thinking I'm haunted."

An hour passed before he noticed that he'd stopped drawing.

He was just... sitting.

Absorbing the peace like a dry sponge placed into the ocean.

The breeze brushed past him, warm and full of life. It was like all his worries were blown away with the wind.

His eyes drifted shut for a second, listening to the rustle of the leaves and the distant sounds of a vendor cart ringing its bell.

This was normal.

This was good.

As he stood up to head home, a man passed by with a large golden retriever.

The dog suddenly froze, flattened it's ears and let out a deep growl in Victor's direction.

Its eyes fixed on him with an undisguised hostility in its gaze.

Victor paused, startled.

The man tugged the leash. "Hey! Stop that. Sorry, he's usually friendly."

The dog, however, clearly didn't take the hint, and kept barking incessantly.

Victor forced a small smile. "It's fine."

But something in his chest stirred.

Still, he brushed it off.

Dogs were weird sometimes. That didn't mean anything.

He looked back once before leaving the park.

The dog was still watching him.

- - -

The walk home was quiet.

The streets were almost deserted and the breeze carried the smell of something sweet from a nearby bakery.

Upon reaching his house, he gently pushed the door open.

Mrs Han's voice drifted from the kitchen, humming some old tune off-key.

He stood there for a moment, listening to the comforting, homely sounds.

He hadn't realized how much he'd missed this.

Or maybe not missed but needed.

Karina's music pulsed faintly from the living room, something upbeat and messy.

It used to annoy him. Now, it just made the house feel alive.

He slipped off his shoes and moved through the hallway.

Usually he'd head straight to his room but quite unlike himself he paused for a moment and allowed the moment to settle over him.

Mrs. Han poked her head around the corner, wooden spoon in hand. "Back already?"

Victor nodded. "Yeah. I just... wanted to get out for a bit."

Her brow creased slightly curious, maybe concerned but she smiled anyway.

"Dinner's almost ready. You wanna help set the table?"

He hesitated.

Normally, he'd say no, retreat to his room, wait until the food was plated and avoid the awkward silences that always seemed to bloom around him at the table.

However he found himself unknowingly nodding away. "Sure."

Karina glanced up from her phone as he entered the dining room.

"Whoa, look who decided to do something useful for once."

Victor snorted under his breath. "Don't make me regret this."

She smirked, tossing him a stack of forks. "Too late."

As they moved around the table, bumping into chairs and brushing shoulders, something inside Victor began to soften.

The weight from last night hadn't lifted completely but somehow, sharing this space made it more bearable. Less lonely.

Dinner was filled with chatter.

Mostly between Karina and their mom with Mr. Han and Alex occasionally interrupting, the kind of casual conversation Victor usually tuned out of.

He listened to their voices and the way they filled the silence without trying too hard.

And this time he didn't feel like an extra.

He didn't speak much, but when he did, they looked at him, laughed at something he said, and he found himself laughing too.

It wasn't perfect.

There were still pauses where he felt out of place and moments where he caught himself randomly drifting off into his own thoughts.

But for a little while, it felt like he belonged here.

----

After dinner, Karina flopped onto the couch and started watching one of her crime documentaries again.

Victor lingered near the hallway, arms folded, watching the screen from a distance.

"I think you watch too many of those," he said softly.

Karina shrugged, not taking her eyes off the TV. "At least they're somewhat educational."

He nodded once, then quietly excused himself.

Upstairs, as he passed the hallway mirror, he stopped and for the first time in a while, he looked into it.

There was a gentle smile on his face, how long had it been since he smiled so genuinely?

He couldn't remember, but there was a warm feeling in his heart, slowly diffusing and melting into his soul.

---

Victor stepped into his room and gently closed the door behind him.

His bed was still unmade from the morning, sunlight now replaced by soft evening shadows stretched across the floor.

He set his sketchpad down on the desk and clicked his voice recorder on again, he decided to try one more time.

This should prove that it was all in his head and nothing actually happened.

He was ready to end the previous farce once and for all.

As he lay down under the covers, everything felt quiet.

Not just outside, but inside too.

The silence in his mind was almost comforting now.

The aching pull beside his ribs had dulled considerably and it seemed as if everything was coming to an end.

Maybe it really was all just a strange coincidence.

Maybe I should try to get along with them....

---

- Beep! - Beep!

Victor's eyes shot open.

He blinked rapidly, head foggy and slow to catch up.

The room was cloaked with shadows, the faint glow of his digital clock blinking 3:01 AM in harsh red digits.

Something was off.

He tried to sit up, but his limbs felt heavy.

His heart thudded sluggishly, and there was a strange ringing in his ears.

Cold sweat clung tightly to his skin.

Then he heard it.

Click. Whirr. Click. Whirr.

His voice recorder.

It was on, but... stuck?

Victor squinted across the room.

The device on the desk flickered, its light blinking erratically.

The same phrase played again and again, low, garbled and looping like a corrupted tape.

"Stay alone...D-Don't trust them.

You don't belong in that world.....#&@#£...with me"

Bzzz Click

It stopped abruptly.

His throat tightened.

He tried to swing his legs over the bed but his body barely responded.

A wave of nausea hit him, followed by an icy chill rushing up his spine.

Then, he felt it.

Warm. Sticky. Wet.

He looked down.

The sheets beneath him were soaked through with blood.

Dark stains had spread across the fabric, and a dull throbbing pulsed somewhere along his lower abdomen.

His breath caught.

His vision tunneled.

Then came the dizziness-lightheadedness, like the floor was tilting beneath him.

He couldn't stop the way his hands trembled as he pulled the sheets back.

A slash wound.

Long and thin, curving diagonally across his waist like it had been carved with intention.

He didn't feel it before but-

Victor opened his mouth, and this time, the scream ripped from his throat.

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaah-!"

---

Footsteps thundered from down the hallway.

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