CHAPTER SIX
The thick, sudden silence that followed the snap of the light was heavier than any shadow. I stood frozen, my ears straining against the absolute zero of sound. Elara had locked me in. The realization was a physical blow, yet the immediate terror was not of my captivity but of the presence in the corner.
"The killing is over for you, David."
His words kept ringing in my head. He was tall, gaunt, a featureless white oval against the black suit that seemed to drink all the available light. His wide, unnerving smile was directed straight at me. He raised one long, pale hand, not a threat this time, but a chilling farewell.
"You did not keep my promise. I guess she's mine now."
The lights died entirely. I heard the faint, happy sound of Lily's giggle, impossibly far away, then nothing. Absolute silence.
Lily. He had her. I threw myself against the front door, slamming my weight into the wood, screaming Elara's name until my throat was raw. The door didn't budge. I ran to the kitchen, the back door, the windows—all sealed.
"I have to apologize to Elara. I have to make her understand." My mind raced, stumbling over the obvious. I couldn't kill now, but if I stayed here, Lily was gone. If I act hyper, she'll think I'm the killer, and the marriage is done. I had to choose: save my daughter from the thing I didn't understand, or save my family from the truth of myself.
"I will try not to kill today. Just today. What is the worst that could happen?"
Just then, glass rattled in the frames. Dishes crashed in the kitchen. A high, grating laughter—chillingly inhuman—bounced off the walls, punctuated by a clear, triumphant whisper that pierced the clamor: "I am winning. I am winning."
"Where are you!" I roared, whirling on the empty air. "Come out! What have you done to my daughter? Did you touch her? How are you winning?!"
Meanwhile, Elara was driving down the expressway, Lily quiet in the back seat, absorbed in a cartoon on her tablet. The engine hummed, and Elara tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, lost in the low volume of the music and the chaotic geometry of her thoughts. The sight of the red lines on the toy policemen, the news reports—the pieces all connected, forming a terrifying portrait of her husband.
She glanced in the rearview mirror, trying to maintain a normal tone. "Lily, sweetie, can Mommy ask you about your games? The ones with the blocks?"
Lily looked up, her seven-year-old eyes bright and guileless. "The messy kitchen game?"
"Yes. Why do you play those things, honey? You used to love your dollhouse."
Lily shrugged, returning to her tablet. "The quiet man showed me. He said Daddy likes it. Daddy does it."
Elara's knuckles went white on the wheel. She tried to keep her voice gentle, but the tremor was undeniable. "But why did you draw red lines on the toys?"
Lily put down the tablet, her gaze strangely distant. "Because he gets angry if I don't. He wants them to be sleepy forever."
Elara swallowed hard, forcing herself to be a rational adult, a good mother. It's a child's imagination. A symptom of her father's dealings. "Okay, alright, baby. But let's stop playing that for a while, okay? We'll buy you a big bubble machine at the park."
As the topic changed, Elara relaxed slightly, concentrating on the road.
Suddenly, Lily stopped humming. Her small hand reached out, palm flat against the back window. The glass, where her hand rested, seemed to ripple, darkening into a small, hypnotizing void. A whisper, too faint for Elara to hear over the music, brushed past Lily's ear.
Come closer...
Lily, quiet as a ghost, unbuckled her belt and crawled toward the back window. "Mommy, look!" Her voice was lost in the passing traffic noise. She pressed a finger against the dark, swirling hole. The moment her skin touched it, the blackness vanished, absorbed into her hand.
A silent, internal change swept through Lily. Her skin turned noticeably paler, her vibrant hair seemed to mute in color, and her eyes, when she next blinked, were a startling, flat white for a fraction of a second. A tremor ran through her body, and the tips of her fingers were stained black as pitch.
Then, Lily's body floated upward, hitting the roof of the car with a dull, sickening thud.
Elara shrieked, slamming the brakes. The car fishtailed, tires screeching in a wild, unholy drift before coming to a jarring halt.
Horns blared around them. Elara's world tilted as she saw other cars brake violently to avoid a collision.
She scrambled out, apologizing frantically to the other drivers, her hands shaking so violently she could barely unlock the back door. Lily lay slumped on the seat, her head bowed, her hair covering her face, the quiet stillness profoundly demonic.
"Lily? Lily, are you there?" Elara whispered, terrified to touch her. She tentatively reached for her daughter's shoulder.
Lily's head rolled up slowly. Her eyes were back to their normal, innocent brown. "Yes, Mommy, I'm here. What happened? Why did the car stop?"
Elara could barely speak, her fear an icy blanket. "J-just a small accident, darling. I... I can't drive right now. Let's get a taxi."
They arrived at a bustling downtown park. Elara watched from a bench as Lily played, trying to rationalize the horrific incident in the car. Lily seemed fine, normal—yet Elara kept seeing the pale skin, the moment of levitation.
Lily joined a group of children playing on a jungle gym. She was climbing. A larger girl blocked the top of the slide. Lily, impatient, pushed her. The girl shoved back. A childish squabble turned instantly vicious. Lily's eyes narrowed, a dark, unfamiliar look on her face. The other girl, taller and older, landed a solid hit, making Lily stumble.
The other child looked down at Lily with a triumphant, scornful smirk.
The parents of both children came to take their kids and to prevent the fight from growing.
"Don't mind her. Come. Let's go play elsewhere" Elara said, retreating.
Lily stopped moving. She stood perfectly still, her innocent face twisted into a mask of pure, murderous rage. Her gaze locked onto the other girl from a distance, burning with an absolute hatred.
The victorious girl, mid-smirk, looks at Lily, her tongue sticking out to mock Lily. She suddenly dropped her doll. Her eyes widened, a thin, bright streak of blood appearing at the corner of her right eye. The streak became a stream gushing out of her eyes. A gasp rippled through the parents watching nearby.
The girl's head burst—it was a sudden, sickening implosion of tissue and bone, a soundless red mist followed by a wild spray.
She crumpled to the ground, a headless fountain of blood staining the pristine green lawn.
Chaos erupted. Parents screamed, snatching their children and running wildly, their picnic blankets abandoned. It was chaos. Elara was frozen, her scream trapped in her throat. She stared at the horror, then at her daughter, who was standing over the body, her small chest heaving.
Did Lily do this? The question hammered in her mind, a terrifying affirmation of her worst fears.
Lily looked at the blood, her face a picture of confusion and fright. "Mommy? What happened? Is she dead?"
Elara finally moved, grabbing Lily and running blindly toward the exit, dragging her daughter into the car, the shrieks of the crowd pursuing them.
Back at the house, the tremor had subsided. I was breathing hard, leaning against the cold wall, the silence of the locked house now suffocating. The Quiet Man was my curse. The curse of being the serial killer that I was
Suddenly, the front door rattled—not the lock, but the wood itself, shuddering violently.
I heard the frantic clicking of the key in the deadbolt. Elara was back.
The door burst open, and Elara stumbled in, dragging Lily behind her. Elara's face was a ruin of tears and shock, her clothes speckled with a light, fresh spray of blood. Lily looked perfectly fine, utterly calm, her small hand clutching a new, bright red balloon.
"Da... David! You didn't escape!"
Elara stumbled into the hallway, dragging Lily by the hand. Her face was streaked with tears and raw terror, but a desperate relief flashed in her eyes. Seeing me, still inside the house, the mask of a calm, controlled husband shattered her certainty that I was the killer. "He's not a killer since he didn't escape", she thought, the fragile hope a counter-force to the blood on her dress.
She let go of Lily and ran, throwing her arms around me.
"Hey..." I said, the word rough in my throat, withdrawing slightly. The smell of fresh —blood—hit me, and I pulled back enough to look at her soaked clothes. "There's blood... What happened?"
Her tears overflowed, running down her cheeks. "Don't worry, it's not ours." She buried her face in my shoulder again.
I hugged her back, ignoring the stain spreading on my shirt. My mind was reeling. I had tried to avoid killing, to rest, and in the time I was locked in, Elara had returned covered in blood. Did the Quiet Man act outside the house? Did he make her kill? I forced myself to ask nothing, focusing only on the contact, the desperate grip of my wife. I was trying my best to stay calm.
Lily just stood there, completely composed. She was holding the bright red balloon tied to her wrist with a thin white string, twirling it idly. Her gaze was vacant, fixed on the swaying object, utterly detached from the horror surrounding her mother.
"I... I had to leave court early," Elara choked out, the memory of the park attack rushing back. "Lily... she saw something. Something awful."
"What did she see, Elara?" I asked gently, trying to keep the panic from my voice.
"A girl... in the park. Her head... it exploded." Elara shuddered violently. "There was so much blood. It was awful, David. I think... I don't... I don't know what to think, David" her continued to cry.
I looked at my daughter, who raised her eyes to mine. Her smile was sweet, innocent, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"What?... Did I do something wrong?" Lily whispered, skeptical, her voice light.
I turned away from her, patting Elara on the back. "What's happening? Someone died in an unnatural way...I didn't do the killings then who did? It can't be Lily? No. It's not her..." I thought.