A soft moan slipped out shattering the quiet. It wasn't a prick, instead a constant throb that remained with each heartbeat.
The pain started at the back of his neck, heavy and forceful like a hammer striking his skull. It then moved down setting his side aflame with jolts and dragging a continual soreness, over his chin.
Daniel let out a groan—a noise emerging from deep, inside his throat. His eyelids felt heavy as if made of lead stuck closed by dried residue he faintly remembered as blood.
Gradually he opened his eyes completely. All he saw were forms that he could partially recognize.
He lay flat on his bedroom floor with his face resting on the plank.
Sunbeams poured through the window—luminous—throwing a golden spot onto the wall.
He blinked, confused—maybe it never happened; a warped vision brought on by eating unhealthy snacks and feeling regretful concerning problems.
Then memories rushed in—pieces appearing abruptly waves of fear instead of an unending flow.
The ground split open broadly. Then Chloe let out a piercing scream. After that the daylight disappeared. Swallowed by a crimson moon. Subsequently the reporter's composed mask broke down into horror.
He observed the creatures – their skin and the flames burning in their eyes. Then there was the smash, wood splintering as they pushed through. That old wardrobe still stood intact. A smell of mothballs mixed with dread. Inside Chloe let out a quivering sound.
"Kra'shel tikta vren'sa nol'tar."
Strange sounds echoed distinctly inside his head – like a bell. Yet they felt familiar linked to visions.
He recalled the boss's stare, that sharpness whenever it landed on his brother.
He sensed the pain from the hit along his side, as though an echo of the sound that had earlier traveled through his body.
He pictured it – himself acting silly and pretending to swing a leg as if it mattered. Then… pure brightness. Something hit him sharply. Her eyes emerged abruptly from nowhere.
The picture etched in his memory: Chloe, mouth wide open as though yelling but silent being pulled into a glowing crack that shouldn't exist.
"Chloe " he whispered softly—her name sharply slicing his tongue like smoke entwined with iron.
Avoiding a dizziness that blurred his sight Daniel stood upright—leaning on the wall to steady his posture.
Each muscle seemed to burn. A keen pain stabbed his side further—when he gently touched it the harsh feeling of bones sent waves of nausea rising up his throat.
The ache, in his body was trivial. What genuinely impacted him was the fear twisting inside. He felt it coursing through him slow and heavy more intolerable than any bruise or injury had ever felt.
The house stayed still. It wasn't the calm of an afternoon but rather, like an empty shell where no sound dared to break the stillness – strangely disturbing.
He stumbled out of the room his feet adhering to a spot, beneath him. No need to glance downward—he knew it was his blood soaking into the floor.
The hallway looked destroyed. Photos of family trips or childrens school accomplishments were broken. Pieces of glass sparkled on the ground like ice. Silently the chaos felt personal.
In the living room the couch lay flipped over its filling torn out. Meanwhile the coffee table was shattered into fragments.
His fathers preferred chair bore a mark resembling a cut made by a pointed instrument slicing directly across the center.
He looked toward the door –. Perhaps just the remnants of it. Ripped from its frame broken pieces scattered across the floorboards creating an opening where the door had been.
Leading away from the injury, leaving marks on their doorstep then down the stairs, there were red footprints.
They lacked characteristics. Massive builds, trio of toes facial looks. Exited the residence. Did not come back.
A suppressed cry broke free, from Daniel. His overwhelming anxieties shouted in his head – yet a slight spark of rebellion disregarded them.
He needed proof. Rotating slowly like a machine running out of power he advanced cautiously toward the room—, toward the closet.
The enormous wooden doors were torn off. Thrown aside like mere pieces of paper. Peering through the opening he felt his heart pounding beneath cracked ribs.
The tattered garments, with the blanket he had earlier pushed Chloe beneath were now ripped to pieces, strewn everywhere.
His fingers trembled as they reached inside almost failing to hold onto the cloth. Then slowly piece, by piece they appeared.
A worn-out jacket. But also a torn-up quilt. Then again, a dirty duvet.
He looked –. Noticed it. A tiny fragment of cloth showing from, underneath a pair of worn-out jeans.
From Chloe's T-shirt sleeve came this piece - ripped, marked by a dark stain, kinda brownish-red… clearly blood.
The closet stayed vacant. From the moment she left.
The refusal broke apart. After the brutal force of reality hit him hard.
Daniel dropped to his knees a scream ripping through him. Carrying that weight he still ended up failing—. At the moment when everything depended on him the sole individual counting, on him... It all collapsed because of his choices.
He wasn't sure how much time passed while he remained hunched there amidst the remnants of his environment—his universe torn into pieces. What was left seemed dense and silent as though everything had crumbled abruptly without any notice or reason.
After some time a sudden urge—one he couldn't ignore—forced him to get up more. It wasn't fear; an ominous presence was pulling him upwards. He had to determine the gravity of the circumstance. That unusual intense energy urged him to act.
He moved silently through the house like a shadow his toes dragging over shards of glass but halting at the torn doorway before departing. Although quiet each footfall echoed beneath him as cold air brushed his skin through the gap.. He pressed forward without looking back compelled by an urge that pushed him ahead despite the silence lingering behind him.
He had not expected it all.. The harsh light shone down – intense perhaps even relentless –, over the destruction.
He stepped onto his block – the usual sounds had vanished, substituted by quiet. Instead destruction lay before him. Homes stood as skeletons some walls, others, without roofs.
Cars flipped over – several consumed by flames twisted into shapes forged from steel.
The tidy yard of the neighbors door turned into a hole cluttered with upturned soil.
The bodies—merely lying where they fell. Stretching out far as one could observe. Amputated. Legs strewn across the ground like tossed-aside playthings left behind after a tempest.
Bodies were scattered along the pavement each face locked in an expression of terror.
The homicide was savage, irrational—hard to grasp. What he observed and smelled made his stomach turn.
Daniel lurched toward his yard hunched over before throwing up—his body trembling as pain erupted inside. A cold wave ran through him as sorrow welled up from within. He stayed bent gasping with breaths eyes clouded by torment. Each breath felt like ingesting splinters. The ground, beneath him seemed to move. Nothing looked familiar anymore—not his own image.
Once the vomiting ceased he cleaned his mouth using his hand while looking around the vicinity.
It was precise. Each detail. His whole life—weekends, quarrels, chores undone missed games—vanished in a night.
A powerful urge to reach out to another person—any individual—hit him profoundly as though he were alone finally.
He rummaged through his jacket looking for the phone. Although the screen was shattered it still turned on.
No signal. As always. He hurried indoors stumbled over scattered mess then grabbed the TV remote.
He aimed it at the screen while his thumb pressed down hard on the power button.
Nothing.
The display stayed still. Empty, lifeless as if it were watching him instead.
He raised the kitchen phone bringing it closer to hear.. There was silence—no sound all. Quiet void where a dial tone should have existed.
He stayed solitary. Solitary surrounded by bodies in every direction.
His last bit of strength faded away. Falling onto the toppled couch the damaged springs poked into his back.
The quietness of the planet surrounded him. Solely his uneven breaths disturbed the calm.
Chloe's face appeared suddenly in his thoughts while her gentle sob echoed in the emptiness, inside him.
"I couldn't defend her " he murmured, his voice rough and nearly silent. His tone broke as he said "They seized her since I didn't step in."
He snapped upright suddenly—precise and vivid, like flames cutting through fog. Not just grief,. Rage, fierce and blazing inside him.
"I might have died saving her " he whispered into the emptiness.
He stood up shaking with a rush of energy.
He looked over at the television. This device symbolized an existence he formerly had but gradually gave up.
It was senseless and futile. Still he had to destroy something. A part of him just couldn't hold back any further.
He howled—half creature, man—then slammed his fist into the television. Glass splintered under his hand as the screen cracked open.
Sparks scattered around as circuits crackled with a sharp snap.
The glass broke suddenly; a piercing pain surged through his arm as splinters lodged into his skin.
Vivid crimson blood spurted out spreading across the floor and mixing with the dried remnants.
He barely expected it. The pain appeared as a release granting him a brief relief from the ongoing strain of not living up, to expectations.
He stayed where he was, catching his breath, his raw, shaking knuckles making him look like a broken soul in the middle of the ruins.