I'm back home with my family. We are sitting around the bed that Evelyn has been trapped in for the past year. I remember the day they placed her into that bed like it was only last night. It all began with her coughing. She would cough and cough, sometimes going into fits that would last for what seemed like hours.
The day it was confirmed that she was sick, she grasped my finger with her tiny hands and led me through the house. She told me about all the imaginary friends that she'd made. We played a tea party with Leonora. We laughed.
Then she began to cough.
She couldn't stop.
Then the doctors came, and I watched as they placed her into the bed. She was terrified of the masks that they wore. The long beaks made them look like giant birds ready to take her away on the wind. Each mask was set with dark eyes that reflected like glass mirrors. They all wore coats of black leather wrapped around their knee-high polished boots. Each step they took was a loud thud against the floor of the shack.
She was scared, and so was I.
After that, she was unable to speak without croaking. Every day, my wife would cry. She stayed home with her, watching her like a vulture. Some days, I couldn't tell if she was waiting for her to get better or die. I would leave for work, scared I would come home to see both of them dead.
I need the money.
When I finally come to and open my eyes, I'm lost to the horror of this world. Blood stains the ground where the body of this child is lying. She's poisoned with stillness; no longer breathing the stale air of this city. Shivers creep their way up my spine as I look down the street to see other children strung and splayed over the ground. Each one is more horrifying than the last.
My palms grow clammy as my mouth runs dry. I look around and am lost in this city. I don't recognize anything that surrounds me. My knees buckle, and I collapse to the ground, splashing against the pool of blood. I catch myself and see my reflection against the puddle that now ripples with vibration. I let loose a scream that reverberates off the buildings as tears roll down my cheeks.
I must be strong for her.
I rise from the ground, a man possessed by fate. I continue to tell myself that I know where I am. I know that I must get back to the tavern. I need my weapon. There is something out here that I must avoid, for it will kill me if it has the chance to. Death will have to become my friend, and I will have to take its life before it is able to take mine.
I look around and find the body of an older man down the street, heading in the direction of the tavern. All I can hear is my brain telling me to go and loot the body. My steps are quiet as I creep through the city like a church mouse. Each step is silent with precision and grace.
I'm so close that I can see the new hairs that are beginning to grow on his unshaven face when he spews a clot of blood from his mouth like a geyser. He screams an abominable howl that is laced with agony and dread.
He pulls a knife from his pocket, his eyes meeting mine as he drags the blade across his throat. The next thing I know, I'm beside the man, our hands locked together like woven knots.
"It's going to be alright," I say to him, clutching his hands.
"Run..." pours from his lips.
"Leave... this.... cursed... city..." he says softly and slowly before closing his eyes to the horror of this world.