106 Madam Helen and Her Mother

She fell on her chair, staring wide-eyed at the shadow in front of her. She can see it! She can see it! Yes! I did it! She can see it! My fingers trembled in excitement as I watched her about to piss herself in terror. No! It should be a sin that I am feeling this way in the first place. But I can't help it.

I feel like I am a child who received his first toy ever. Like a dog when told he was a good boy by its owner after performing a trick. I'm so excited and I feel like a sinner for feeling this way. But oddly enough — it felt good. Yes. It felt good.

Somewhere at the very corner of my heart, I'm afraid the shadow might hurt her. But somewhere — probably buried at the very depth of my subconscious — I'm sure it won't be able to hurt her physically. I was so certain about it that it drove away the slight hesitation that was stopping me.

The shadow moved in her direction and she scooted backward without removing her eyes from it. It raised its arm — the one holding the belt. And with one swoop, swung it to Madam Helen as she curled into a ball — looking so small — before the belt could even hit her. I flinched when that happened, but as I thought, the belt only went through her.

I was watching this unfold when for a moment — just for a moment — the surrounding pulsated, the purple color of the particles intensified, along with a jolt to the back of my head, and my temples throbbed.

I realized that my surrounding changed. I'm no longer in my bedroom but instead, in a completely different place. A place I've never been to before.

In a squarish room with a small girl and a woman whom I think was the mother. The small girl's eyes were red from crying. She resembled a lot like Madam Helen. And the woman… resembled a lot like the shadow earlier.

The girl who looked like Madam Helen brought her hands up to protect her face as her mother whickered the belt through the air creating an arc before it landed on her small body. Although her hands protected her face, they didn't protect her back, her legs, her thighs, and her butt.

The woman raised her arm again but before she could land a blow on her, almost on instinct, I ran in between them in an attempt to protect the little girl. But it was futile because the belt went through me and it successfully landed on her buttocks earning a scream from her. "Hey! Stop that!" I tried to tell her but she surely hasn't heard that.

"I'm sorry! Mother, I'm sorry! I won't do it again, I promise!" the kid cried. "I promise. I won't do it again."

The arm that was about to take another swing froze mid-air. "Really? You promise? You won't do it again?" the woman asked. She kneeled and pulled the kid into her arm to hug her and kiss her on the forehead. "You promise?"

"Yes, mother."

"Oh! My poor child. My poor little child. You know mama loves you so much. You know that, right? Mama loves you soooooo much. Don't you dare do that again, hmm?" The woman was teary-eyed while saying that. "If you really wanted to, I can take you to the park myself. You don't have to sneak out. Okay?"

"Really, mother?" The kid was suddenly excited. Her eyes turned wide and she was smiling now despite the dried-up tears and snot on her face. And if she were a dog, she'd be wagging her tail now. Yes. She's like a dog about to be taken for a walk. As if she's already forgotten how this woman mercilessly beat her with her belt just a few moments ago.

"Of course, my child. Because mama loves you sooooo much."

"I can play with my friends too?" she asked. But as soon as those words left her mouth, the mother's countenance shifted almost instantly from a loving mother into an iron fist.

"NO!"

"But—"

"No buts, my child. Those kids are no good for you. You're special. You're better than them. Please understand that I'm only doing this for you. Because I love you."

"But they weren't bad kids mother. They're all kind to me," she reasoned out.

"No, my child. You don't understand and you're too young to understand. Remember? Mother knows best. I know what's best for you. Do you understand? I'm doing this for your own good. Because I love you. Tell me, Helen, my child. Do you love me? Do you love mama?"

"Yes, mother. I — I love you."

"Oh! I love you too, my child!"

They hugged and the surroundings began to crack and then it collapsed all at once as they disappeared into tiny particles. And I am back to my room. Back in the apartment.

The shadow was now doing the same thing the mother was doing to the kid, hugging Madam Helen.

My chest was booming loudly, threatening to break free from my rib cage. A feeling I never felt before crept slowly inside me. As though someone or something was looking at me. I felt naked and vulnerable.

I pulled away from the connection in that instant and the purple particles vanished. I looked at the balcony one last time. The shadow was gone. And Madam Helen was staring stupidly into the air — probably confused.

I closed the window and slid to the floor. What was that? What did I just see? Was that — Was that Madam Helen when she was a kid? Was that her childhood? Was that woman really her mother? If so, then did I just make her experience that again? How terrible. I'm so terrible.

I never felt this guilty since the day that Karl died. I splashed my face with water in the bathroom. Splashing my face as if it could wash away the guilt building up inside me. And I called out to Ombre. There's one thing I needed to clarify. I don't know. I'm aware that I should be wary of him. He's a devourer after all. But for reasons I can't really explain, there's this misplaced sense of security oozing from him. And I find that odd.

"Yes, Sean?"

"I'm going to meet some… people tonight. And — And I don't think they like devourers very much." I told him. I'm referring to Mr. Vlad and to everyone in the castle.

"Don't worry about it, Sean. Devourers were always hated in the first place anyway. Not that it has changed in years," he said then he chuckled in a self-deprecating way. Although I am curious about the reason behind it, there's a more pressing issue at hand.

"You see, Ombre. I don't want you to misunderstand. But—"

"I know. You don't want me eavesdropping, right?"

"No. I mean, yes. But I hope you understand."

The corner of his large hollow mouth twisted upwards before saying, "Of course, Sean. And if you're going into that place again, be assured I cannot see or hear anything even if I wanted to."

"What do you mean?" I asked but he only shrugged.

"How would I know?"

He disappeared back into my shadow after that conversation. In the end, I have more questions than before.

I went back to my room after that and surprisingly, Ethan was there. He just got in through the window in his rabbit form when I entered.

He stomped his foot three times on the floor and transformed into a white-haired young man as grayish-white smoke puffed out of his body.

"I'm back, Mr. Jack!" he said in a flamboyant way.

"Yes and I can see that."

"Where's the egg?" he asked.

"It's in the drawer. Haven't touched it since morning. I don't think it's gonna hatch today either."

He pulled the black box out of the drawer containing the egg and scrutinized it. "You're right. I don't think it's gonna hatch today too. Tomorrow, maybe?"

I watched him put it back only to take it out again. "I think you should carry it around with you," he said as he shoved it to me.

"I'm free whole day today, you know? Can we meet them now?"

He stared at me for a while before he snapped his fingers. "You know what, Mr. Jack? You're getting smarter! What? Should we go now?"

"I just told you, haven't I?"

Like what we did last time, he made me draw the symbol on the door using the paint that reeked of dung mixed with some herbs and other not-so-pretty stuff.

When we opened the door, we were greeted by a circular room with stone floors and walls. Three unlit torches by the front.

The door vanished as soon as we closed it and the torches lit on their own.

A tall, burly man standing by our front. His head was that of a bull with two large crooked horns protruding at his temples. It was Hariric. And white smoke was puffing out of his nostrils.