You open your eyes and the first thing you feel is the wet. Not damp sheets, not morning sweat—thick, warm, clinging wet that has soaked through the fabric and is now painting your palms, your forearms, the small of your back. You lift your hands slowly. Crimson threads stretch between your fingers like fine silk before they snap and drip back onto the mattress. The copper taste coats your tongue even though your mouth has not yet moved.The ceiling is low and stained yellow-brown in irregular patches. A single bare bulb hangs from a frayed cord, swaying very slightly although there is no breeze. The light is weak, dirty, the kind that makes every shadow look like dried blood. You turn your head to the left.The wall is breathing.Not metaphorically. The plaster seems to pulse—very faint, very slow—as though something underneath is trying to push out. Words have been carved into it, some shallow scratches, some deep gouges that still weep red. The same sentence repeated until it fills every available inch from floor to ceiling:YOU ARE THE KILLER
YOU ARE THE KILLER
YOU ARE THE KILLERThe letters are not uniform. Some are frantic and jagged, others eerily neat, almost tender in their precision. In places the paint has run downward in long teardrop trails that pool at the baseboard. You realize with a sick lurch that the trails are still moving—fresh blood is still trickling from the newest cuts.Your name is gone.
Your age, your face in a mirror you do not dare look at yet, your yesterday—gone.
Only the certainty remains: this room knows you. This room has waited for you.You try to sit up. The mattress groans beneath you like old bones. The sheets peel away from your skin with a soft sucking sound. More blood smears across your stomach, your thighs. It is not all yours. Some of it is too bright, too arterial; some is already darkening to rust. You touch your own body quickly—searching for wounds, for proof. Nothing. No cuts, no bruises. The blood is someone else's gift.The door is wooden, warped at the edges, no handle on this side. It stands slightly ajar, a thin vertical line of deeper darkness showing through the gap. You stare at it for a long time. Nothing moves beyond it. No footsteps, no breathing, only a waiting silence so heavy it presses on your eardrums.Then the air changes.It thickens, sweetens—lilies crushed underfoot mixed with the iron of slaughterhouses. A soft glow blooms in the corner opposite the door, pearlescent, trembling like candlelight underwater. From that glow she steps.Selene.Her dress was once white. Now it is mostly scarlet, the fabric torn at the hem and clinging to her thighs in wet ribbons. Long silver hair falls past her waist, strands matted with drying blood yet still shining as though lit from within. Her wings—torn, translucent, veined with faint gold—hang limp behind her, tips brushing the floor and leaving faint red crescents. But her face… her face is impossible. Skin like new moonlight, eyes the pale blue of winter dawn, lashes long enough to cast shadows on her cheeks. She looks at you and something ancient and gentle cracks open inside your chest."You did not do this," she says. Her voice is quiet, low, the way wind sounds when it moves through tall grass at night. "I know you. You are not the one who painted these walls."She takes one step closer. The blood on her dress does not drip anymore; it seems to drink the light instead. You smell her—lilies, iron, and something sweeter underneath, like vanilla left too long in sunlight. Your pulse answers before your mind can catch up. It is not fear. It is recognition.Before you can speak the shadows on the opposite wall peel themselves free.Katik.He does not step out of darkness—he is the darkness given shape. Black hair wet and falling into blacker eyes. A long coat that was once expensive leather now hangs heavy with blood, the hem dragging wet lines across the floorboards. His skin is too pale, almost translucent, and beneath it you can see the faint blue tracery of veins—like marble veined with night. He leans one shoulder against the wall, arms folded, mouth curved in a smile that is half cruelty, half heartbreak."Sweetheart," he drawls, voice velvet dragged over broken glass. "Don't listen to the angel. She's always been terrible at seeing the truth." His gaze slides down your body, lingering on the blood that still coats your skin. "You painted every inch of this room. You enjoyed it. You just forgot how much fun it was."He straightens. The smile never reaches his eyes. "But don't worry. Memory is a fickle little bitch. She'll come crawling back soon enough."The air ripples again. Katik is gone—simply not there anymore, as though he was never solid to begin with. Only the echo of his laugh remains, low and intimate, curling around your spine.Selene has not moved. She stands between you and the place where Katik vanished, wings shivering very slightly. She lifts one bloodstained hand toward you—slowly, carefully, as though you are a wounded animal that might bolt."I will stay," she whispers. "As long as you let me."Her fingers hover an inch from your cheek. You can feel the cold that radiates from her skin, yet beneath it there is heat—faint, desperate, alive. Your own hand rises without permission, trembling, reaching for that impossible touch.The moment your fingertips brush hers the bulb overhead flickers once, violently.The words on the wall seem to pulse brighter.And somewhere deep inside your skull a voice that is not yours begins to laugh—soft, delighted, and terribly familiar.
The laughter in your skull swells for one heartbeat, then collapses into silence so complete it feels like drowning. Selene's fingers are still hovering near your cheek. You can feel the faint tremor in them—the only proof that she is not made entirely of light and myth. Her eyes search yours, wide and unguarded, as though she is afraid that if she blinks you will vanish. Or she will.You swallow. The taste of blood is stronger now, metallic and intimate, like you have bitten your own tongue without noticing. "Who… who are you?" The words scrape out of your throat, raw and small.She does not answer right away. Instead she lowers her hand until the very tips of her fingers rest against your jaw—cold as river stone, yet somehow burning. The contact sends a shiver racing down your spine, not unpleasant, not painful, just overwhelming in its clarity. For the first time since you woke, the room feels slightly less like a grave."I am Selene," she says at last. Her voice is softer than before, almost confessional. "And I have waited a very long time to find you here."You want to pull away. You want to lean in. The contradiction pins you in place. "Why is there blood on you?" you ask. It is the only question that feels safe. The only one that does not lead straight to the words on the wall.Selene's gaze drops to her ruined dress. She lifts one hand and watches a slow bead of red slide down her wrist, tracing the delicate blue veins beneath her skin. "Because I killed for you," she says simply.The words land like stones in still water. Ripples spread through your chest. You feel your pulse stutter, then race to catch up."Not you," she adds quickly, eyes snapping back to yours. "Not your hands. But the ones who came before me. The ones who tried to hurt you while you slept. The ones who carved these lies into the walls." She glances at the pulsing script behind her. "They wanted you to believe you were alone. That you were guilty. That no one would stand between you and the dark."Her wings give a small, involuntary flutter. A few crimson droplets scatter across the floorboards like scattered petals. "I could not let them take you from me. Not again."Again.The word hangs between you, sharp and silvered. You open your mouth to ask what she means, but the question dies when you see the expression on her face—something raw and ancient, a grief so deep it has worn smooth like river rock. She looks at you the way someone looks at the last remaining piece of home after everything else has burned.You reach up without thinking. Your bloodied fingers close around her wrist. Her skin is impossibly cold, yet beneath it you feel the faint throb of something alive, something that answers your touch with a pulse that mirrors your own. The contact is electric. Not painful. Not frightening. Just… inevitable.Selene exhales—a sound so quiet it is almost a sigh of relief. Her free hand rises slowly, hesitantly, and cups your cheek. Her thumb brushes away a streak of blood you did not know was there. The gesture is tender, reverent, as though she is touching something holy and fragile at the same time."You do not remember me," she whispers. It is not a question. "But your body does. Your heart does. That is why it races when I am near. That is why the room feels smaller when we are alone."Your breath catches. You want to deny it. You want to tell her she is wrong, that this is madness, that you are not the person she thinks you are. But the lie will not form. Because deep beneath the fog of amnesia, something stirs—warm, insistent, familiar. A memory that has no shape yet, only feeling. The feeling of being seen. Truly seen.Selene leans closer. Her silver hair falls forward, brushing your shoulder like moonlight made solid. The scent of lilies and iron wraps around you again, intoxicating, addictive. Your eyes drop to her lips—pale, slightly parted, stained with the faintest trace of red. You wonder, for one reckless second, what it would feel like to close the distance.Then the bulb flickers again.The words on the wall flare brighter, the letters seeming to writhe like living things.And from the far corner of the room, where the shadows are deepest, comes the soft, mocking sound of slow applause.Katik reappears without warning, leaning casually against the doorframe as though he has been there the entire time. His coat drips steadily now, small dark pools forming beneath his boots. His smile is wider, sharper, more dangerous."Beautiful," he says, voice dripping honey and venom. "Truly touching. The angel and the murderer, finding each other in the dark. Almost poetic."He pushes off the wall and takes a single step forward. The floorboards creak under his weight. "But poetry ends, little dove. And when it does, the truth is still waiting." His black eyes lock onto yours. "Tell me, love—do you feel it yet? The itch behind your eyes? The whisper that says you know exactly how much blood it takes to write a sentence like that?"He lifts one hand and traces the air in front of him, mimicking the motion of carving letters. "You wrote them. Over and over. Laughing while you did it. Crying while you did it. Loving every second."Selene's grip on your cheek tightens—just a fraction, protective. "Stop," she says, voice low and dangerous for the first time. "You will not take this from us."Katik laughs again—soft, intimate, heartbreaking. "Oh, sweet thing. I don't need to take it. You'll give it away yourselves." He spreads his arms slightly, coat falling open to reveal the ruin beneath: pale skin stretched over visible ribs, old scars crisscrossing like a map of forgotten wars, fresh blood still seeping from wounds that refuse to close. "The moment you admit what you feel… the moment you let yourselves want… the rules break. And when the rules break—"He snaps his fingers.The bulb explodes in a shower of sparks.Darkness rushes in.But Selene does not let go.Her arms wrap around you in the sudden black, wings folding forward to shield you both. You feel her heartbeat against your chest—wild, frantic, alive—and for one perfect, terrifying second, the entire world narrows to the place where her body meets yours.Then the lights return—dimmer, redder, as though the room itself is bleeding.Katik is gone again.Selene pulls back just enough to look at you. Her eyes are wet now, shimmering. A single tear escapes and traces a red path down her cheek—not water, blood."Stay with me," she whispers. "Just a little longer."Your hand finds hers again. Fingers lace together. Blood mingles—hers, yours, the room's. It should feel wrong. It feels like coming home.And somewhere in the deepest part of you, a door you did not know existed begins to creak open.
The red light clings to everything like smoke. It paints Selene's wings in deep rose and turns the blood on her dress almost black. You are still holding her hand—fingers locked, slick with shared crimson—and neither of you moves to let go. The silence after Katik's disappearance is thicker than before, alive with the aftertaste of his words. They echo inside your skull, soft and mocking, refusing to fade.Selene's tear—the red one—has reached the corner of her mouth. She does not wipe it away. Instead she leans forward until her forehead rests lightly against yours. The contact is cool at first, then warms, as though your skin is teaching hers how to remember heat. You feel the faint tremor in her breathing, the way her chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven waves. She is afraid. Not of the room. Not of Katik. Of you. Of what you might remember. Of what you might forget."I have carried this secret for longer than lifetimes," she murmurs against your skin. Her voice is barely more than breath. "Every time the cycle begins again, I find you here. Every time, I try to change the ending. Every time… I fail."You feel the word fail settle in your ribs like a stone. "What cycle?" you ask. Your own voice sounds distant, as though someone else is speaking through your mouth.She pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. Her irises are fractured now—tiny cracks of gold threading through the pale blue, like light breaking through storm clouds. "The room is not a place," she says. "It is a moment. The moment you became what they call you. The moment everything broke." Her free hand rises and traces the air between you, outlining an invisible shape. "And every time we reach this moment, the room resets. The blood returns. The words return. And I return to you… hoping this time you will choose differently."You stare at her. The explanation should sound insane. Instead it feels like the first true thing you have heard since waking. Something inside you nods before your mind can argue."What am I supposed to choose?" you whisper.Selene's lips part. For a second she looks almost young—fragile, uncertain, human. "To believe me," she says. "To believe that you are more than the blood on these walls. To believe that love can be stronger than guilt."The word love lands between you like a dropped blade. It rings. It cuts. You feel it slice through layers of fog and fear straight to the quick. Your grip on her hand tightens without meaning to. She does not flinch. She only leans in again, closer this time, until her lips are a heartbeat away from yours.You can taste her breath—lilies, iron, salt. Your heart slams against your ribs so hard you are sure she can feel it through both your skin and hers. The room narrows to the space between your mouths. One inch. Half an inch. Nothing exists beyond that narrowing gap.Then the floorboards creak.Not from movement. From weight settling.You both freeze.Selene's wings snap open instinctively—torn feathers spreading wide, shielding you. The motion sends a fresh spray of blood across the wall. The carved words flare once, bright as fresh wounds, then dim again.From the shadows near the door, Katik's voice drifts out—low, amused, almost fond."You almost did it," he says. "Almost kissed the angel. Almost broke the rule."He steps into the red light. His coat is heavier now, dragging wetly behind him. The scars on his chest are more visible—deep, deliberate cuts that form patterns you almost recognize. Almost. He tilts his head, studying you both like a painting he has seen too many times."The rule is simple," he continues. "If the murderer and the martyr fall in love—if either of you dares to want the other more than you fear yourselves—then both of you cease to exist." He spreads his hands. "Poof. Gone. No more room. No more cycle. No more second chances."Selene's wings tremble. "You lie," she says, but her voice cracks on the last word.Katik's smile is gentle now—almost pitying. "I never lie to you, little light. I only remind you of what you already know." His black eyes shift to you. "And you… you already feel it, don't you? That pull. That ache. That terrible, beautiful need to touch her again. To keep her."He takes another step. The floorboards groan. "Go ahead. Kiss her. Hold her. Love her. End it all right now. Or…" He shrugs, casual, devastating. "Remember what you did. Remember why these walls bleed. And watch her keep dying for you, over and over, forever."The air grows colder. The red light pulses in time with your heartbeat.Selene turns her face to yours. Her eyes are pleading now—desperate, shining. "Don't listen," she breathes. "Please. Just… stay with me. One more moment. One more breath."Your hand is still in hers. Your other hand has risen without permission and is cupping the side of her neck. Her pulse races beneath your thumb—wild, fragile, yours.The choice hangs there, sharp and shining.One kiss.One memory.One ending.And in the silence that follows, the laughter in your skull returns—your own laughter this time, soft and wondering and utterly without mercy. It whispers a single word, over and over, like a lullaby turned knife:Soon.
The laughter inside your head softens to a hum, then fades entirely, leaving behind a ringing emptiness that feels almost worse. Selene's arms are still wrapped around you, her wings a fragile cocoon of torn light and drying blood. The red glow from the bulb has steadied, but it is dimmer now, as though the room itself is growing tired. You can feel the steady rise and fall of her chest against yours—each breath a small, defiant act against the silence.She is trembling.Not from cold. Not from fear. From restraint. From the effort it takes not to close that final inch between your mouths. Her fingers dig into your back, nails catching on fabric and skin alike, anchoring herself as though you are the only solid thing left in existence.You lift your free hand and thread it through her silver hair. The strands are cool and slippery with blood, yet they slip between your fingers like silk. You feel the tremor travel from her scalp down her spine, feel her wings flutter weakly against your arms. A soft sound escapes her—half sob, half sigh—and it breaks something inside you wide open."I don't remember," you say. The words taste like ash and truth. "But I feel it. I feel you."Selene's forehead presses harder against yours. Her breath fans across your lips in quick, uneven bursts. "That is enough," she whispers. "For now… that is enough."But it is not enough.Not for you.Not for her.The ache between you is physical now—a living thing coiled tight in your chest, pulling tighter with every heartbeat. You can count the seconds in the pulse at her throat, in the faint tremor of her wings, in the way her body leans into yours as though gravity has reversed and you are the only center left.Your thumb brushes the line of her jaw. She shivers. Her eyes flutter closed for one long moment, lashes dark against pale skin, then open again—brighter, more desperate."Tell me something real," you say. "Something that isn't a rule or a cycle or a warning."She swallows. The motion is visible along the delicate column of her throat. "When I first saw you," she begins, voice so soft it is almost lost in the hum of the room, "you were smiling. Not the smile of someone happy. The smile of someone who had just discovered they could feel anything at all. You looked at me like I was the first beautiful thing you had ever seen."Her fingers slide up your back, tracing the line of your spine through blood-soaked cloth. "I wanted to keep that smile. I wanted to be the reason it never left your face again."The confession lands like sunlight on frost—sudden, blinding, melting. You feel your own breath hitch. Your hand moves of its own accord, cupping the back of her neck, pulling her fractionally closer. Her lips part on a quiet gasp."I still want that," she breathes. "Even now. Even here. Even knowing what it costs."The space between your mouths is nothing. A whisper. A thought. You feel the heat of her exhale on your lower lip, taste the salt and iron of her unshed tears. One tilt of your head and it will be over. One decision and the cycle ends. One kiss and everything disappears.You hesitate.Not from doubt. From greed.You want to taste her more than you want salvation. You want to keep this moment longer than you want to end the pain. You want her—broken wings, bloodied dress, trembling heart—more than you have ever wanted anything.Selene feels it. Her eyes darken with the same hunger. Her hand slides to your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth."Then take it," she whispers. "Take me. Before he comes back. Before the room remembers. Before I have to watch you forget me again."Your heart slams once, twice. The world reduces to her eyes, her breath, her plea.You lean in.The door slams open.Not creak. Not drift. Slam.The sound is thunder in the small space. Selene's wings snap shut around you both, instinctive shield. You twist toward the noise.Katik stands in the doorway. Not casual this time. Not mocking. Furious.His coat hangs open, chest heaving. The scars across his ribs are bleeding fresh now slow rivulets that trace old lines like tears. His black eyes burn, pupils blown wide with something darker than anger."You were going to do it," he says. The words are quiet. Deadly quiet. "You were going to end it right here. Without even saying goodbye."Selene's arms tighten around you. "Leave," she says. The word cracks like ice.Katik does not move. He only watches you watches the way your hand still cradles the back of her neck, the way her wings curve protectively over your shoulders."You think you're saving her," he tells you. His voice is raw now, stripped of mockery. "You think one kiss will free her. But all it does is erase her. Erase me. Erase the only place where she can still pretend she has not lost everything."He takes one step into the room. Blood drips from his coat in steady rhythm."She dies for you every cycle," he says. "She bleeds for you. She remembers for you. And you " His gaze cuts to you, sharp as a blade. "You forget. Every time. You wake up clean. You wake up innocent. And she wakes up covered in your sins."Selene makes a small, wounded sound against your throat.Katik's laugh is bitter, broken. "Go on, then. Kiss her. End us both. Prove me right."The room holds its breath.Selene lifts her face to yours. Her eyes are wet again—red tears clinging to her lashes like rubies. She does not speak. She only waits.Your thumb brushes her lower lip.The choice is no longer a choice.It is inevitability.And in the space between one heartbeat and the next, you close the distance.
Your lips meet hers.The kiss is not gentle. It is not tentative. It is the collision of everything you have both been holding back since the moment she stepped from the light and he stepped from the shadow. Her mouth is cold at first—shockingly cold, like winter rain on fevered skin—then warms instantly, fiercely, as though your heat is the only thing that can remind her she is still alive.Selene makes a small, broken sound against your lips, a sound that vibrates through your chest and lodges somewhere deep behind your ribs. Her fingers fist in your shirt, pulling you closer, closer, as if she fears the space between you will swallow her whole. You taste blood—hers, yours, the room's—but beneath it is something sweeter, something that tastes like forgotten summers and starlight and every impossible thing you have ever wanted.Her wings fold tighter around you both, cocooning you in torn feathers and crimson silk. The world narrows to the press of her body against yours, the frantic rhythm of her heartbeat echoing yours, the way her breath catches every time your tongue brushes hers. Time does not stop; it shatters. Every second stretches thin and infinite, every heartbeat a thunderclap.You feel her tears—warm now, no longer red—slide down your cheeks and mingle with your own. You did not know you were crying until this moment. The salt mixes with the blood on your lips, and somehow that makes the kiss taste even more real.Selene pulls back first—just a fraction, just enough to breathe. Her forehead rests against yours again. Her eyes are wide, luminous, terrified and euphoric at once."You kissed me," she whispers, voice trembling with wonder. "You chose me."Her thumb traces your lower lip, following the path her own mouth just took. "I thought… I thought this time would end the same. That you would remember too soon, or not soon enough. That I would lose you again before you ever truly had me."You open your mouth to speak, but no words come. There is only the ache in your chest, the fire in your veins, the certainty that whatever happens next, this moment has changed everything.Then the room shudders.Not a tremble. A full-body convulsion.The walls groan as though the house itself is in pain. The carved words flare once—blinding white—then begin to bleed faster, thicker, rivers of red pouring down the plaster in sheets. The floorboards buckle beneath you. Cracks spiderweb outward from where you and Selene stand locked together.Katik's voice cuts through the chaos, low and ragged."You did it."He is still in the doorway, but he looks different now—smaller, more fragile. The blood from his chest flows freely, soaking the floor in a widening pool. His black eyes are fixed on you both, not with anger, not with mockery. With something that looks very much like grief."You broke the rule," he says. "You loved her. And she loved you back."Selene's arms tighten around you. "No," she breathes. "No, it can't—"But it can.The bulb overhead explodes in a shower of sparks and glass. Darkness rushes in again—absolute, suffocating—but this time it is not empty. It is full of sound: the wet tearing of flesh, the snap of bone, the soft sigh of wings folding one last time.You feel Selene's body begin to dissolve in your arms.Not violently. Not painfully. Gently. Like snow melting against warm skin.Her wings fade first—light bleeding out of them until only faint golden veins remain, then nothing. Her hair slips through your fingers like water. Her skin grows translucent, luminous, as though she is being rewritten in reverse.She looks up at you one last time. Her eyes are still the same pale dawn blue, but now they shimmer with something eternal."Thank you," she whispers. "For remembering how to feel. Even if it was only for a moment."Her lips brush yours again—one final, feather-light kiss.Then she is gone.The darkness lifts.You are alone in the room.The walls are clean. No words. No blood. No cracks. The floorboards are smooth and dry. The bulb hangs whole and steady, casting ordinary yellow light.But your arms are still curved around empty air.Your lips still burn from her touch.And somewhere deep inside your chest, a new ache has taken root—one that will never heal, one that will never fade.Katik stands across the room now, leaning against the opposite wall. He looks smaller than before, almost human. The scars on his chest have stopped bleeding. His coat hangs empty and dry."She's gone," he says quietly. There is no triumph in his voice. Only exhaustion. "You ended it. You ended us."He pushes off the wall and walks toward you. Slow steps. No threat. Just inevitability."But the room isn't finished with you yet," he murmurs. "Because you still haven't remembered why she had to die for you in the first place."He stops in front of you. Close enough that you can see the faint cracks in his irises—tiny fractures like broken glass."Welcome back," he says softly. "To the part where the real story begins."He reaches out.His hand passes straight through your chest.You feel it—cold, sharp, familiar.And then memory floods in.All of it.Every scream. Every cut. Every tear.Every time you laughed while the blood ran.Every time you cried while you carved the words.Every time you looked into Selene's eyes and told her you loved her—right before you killed her.The room tilts.Your knees buckle.And as you fall, the laughter returns—not yours this time.Hers.Selene's laughter.Soft, gentle, forgiving.Even now.Especially now.It echoes in the empty space where she used to be.And it sounds exactly like love.
"Hey you… yeah, you. Thank you for caring about them. About me. About this weird bloody story. You're the warmest thing in this room right now " 🥺❤️🦋