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8

FEAR MAMA

" C ome, let's get you some dry clothes," Rey says as he takes my hand and helps me out of the car and into the house. His grip tightens slightly, enough to send a chill down my spine.

"What were you doing outside, in the rain?" he looks at me over his shoulder, his face searching, scanning, as if looking for something. The aura around him is different now, suffocating. I feel it, the tightening grip around my wrist, the look of disconnection on his face, like he is assessing, calculating.

"Serena, you are not protecting our baby. I don’t know if you’re cut out for this."

The words strike deeper than the cold air clinging to my soaked skin. My stomach tightens, but it’s not just the contraction—it’s something else. A warning.

"Rey, who is she?" I ask once again, but it’s not about the affair. It never was. I don’t care about the woman he’s been sneaking around with. I care about her. The woman who was murdered in this very house, her baby ripped from her. And the man who did it.

From behind me, as we make it to the top of the stairs, a voice cuts through the air.

"HER NAME WAS LILY." Josh shouts, his voice echoing, trembling with anger. "SAY HER NAME, FERNANDO." He looks at Rey, and my stomach sinks.

Fernando .

No.

Slowly, I turn to see my husband, searching for something, anything—a flicker of recognition, a lie, an excuse. But there is nothing. Not a flicker of emotion, no fear, no regret, just empty calculation.

"Who are you?" is all he says in a low and murderous tone that sends shivers down my spine. I try to pull away, but the contraction rips through me again, forcing me to hold onto my husband’s hand for balance, my other hand pressing under my stomach.

"TELL HER THE TRUTH." Josh’s voice is closer now as he moves up the stairs, cautious, deliberate steps but not backing out.

"Go to the room," Rey says as he moves away from me and closer to Josh, but I don’t move. I won’t. I watch as they draw in closer. Everything moves too slowly. The stairway and house are dark and cold. Lightning flickered outside, illuminating the area and heightening the tension between them. "You killed my sister, her child and David."

"I don’t know what you’re—" Rey's words are cut short as Josh’s fist connects with his face, a sickening thud that makes me jump a little and cover my mouth. I watch as they tussle on the stairs, the weight of their struggle pressing into the house itself, the walls groaning under their fight.

"You killed my sister… SAY IT."

Punch .

"SAY IT."

Punch.

"SAY HER NAME. MY NIECE. MY SISTER. THE MAN SHE LOVED."

Josh continues his assaults, his voice cracking, breaking, bleeding with every word. And then I see the charred man standing by the edge of my room, as if waiting—but too scared to move. But Lily is here too. Cradling her empty womb watching beside me her thin, bony fingers stretching out, trembling slightly as she points to the front door.

Run .

When I look back at the man, I see Rey has the upper hand, smashing Josh’s face into the wall.

"She was a whore," he sneers, each word dripping with venom. "Who abandoned her husband. Let another man touch her while she carried my child."

My knees buckle. His voice—his words—are acid against my skin, poisoning my mind, sinking into my bones like a sickness. He couldn’t have done that. No . But despite my hesitation to believe this is real… his words are real. I won’t let them take me under. I won’t let what happened to her happen to me. Taking a deep breath, my hands ball into fists, I need to focus. Only focus on surviving.

"A WORTHLESS WHORE!" His voice rips through the house, shaking the air, and for a moment—I swear the walls breathe with it. I creep down the stairs, moving carefully, slowly, my breath shallow, my body screaming, run, run, run. Then—his head snaps toward me.

Our eyes lock.

I bolt.

But I’m not fast enough.

His hand snatches my wrist, yanking me backward with a crushing force. Pain explodes through my stomach as I slam into the stair railing, my body folding, my breath escaping in a sharp, broken gasp. My knees hit the steps.

"YOU STAY THERE."

Tears spill down my face, hot and stinging, mixing with the sweat and rain that cling to my skin. And then—another gush. Warmth spreads down my thighs, mingling with the water already pooling around me.

No.

Not now.

The pressure inside me is unbearable.

But the adrenaline is stronger. With everything I have left—every ounce of strength, every last fragment of my will—I push off the railing, using my weight against him. And I shove him down the stairs. His body crashes hard, twisting, tumbling, limbs hitting each step with sickening thuds.

I don’t wait.

I run.

Past him.

Through the door.

Into the woods.

Following the woman in front of me as we become one. The rain pours harder, soaking through my clothes, through my skin, through my soul. My bare feet sink into the mud, the earth pulling me down, trying to swallow me whole. I can barely breathe. My legs scream. My vision blurs. Exhaustion, thirst, pain—they are nothing.

I run.

For my life.

For my freedom.

For my child.

I run like the woman who did everything to not be forgotten, and I see it all. My legs lock up, my body sways to the side as I look at the crimson washing away from my hand, the rain mixing with it, thinning it, but not erasing it. When I fall, I see him approach.

Rey .

Kneeling in front of me, his face calm and his voice eerily soft. "You shouldn’t have walked away from your vows."

Everything is black, but I can hear him. Feel him.

I relive her death.

What began her curse.

A fire ignites inside me, but I cannot move. I am inside her now.

I feel it.

The first cut.

The tearing of flesh.

The burn as he slices her open, her body arching, her eyes fly open from the pain. The shock. The horror. The moment her body begins to shut down. But there is no crying. No wail. No life.

Just silence.

Just loss.

Sobs rack through her through me as Rey—Fernando shouts above us.

"LOOK AT HER. WORTHLESS." His voice breaks. "EVEN THAT YOU COULDN’T DO!" He shouts as he places the dead infant on the ground, his hands shaking not with grief, but rage. Then he grabs something.

Firm. Heavy. Sharp at the edges.

And he shoves it inside her…us. Causing a piercing, guttural scream that rips through the night, but it’s weak, too weak. And then he drags her.

Drags me.

Toward the water.

The ground is cold beneath my skin. The world spins.

Then— PLOP .

Her body hits the stream, the water swallowing her whole.

She reaches…. I reach for her baby.

"My baby." The words barely slip from her lips, choked by water, by death, by the weight of what was stolen from her. I snap out of the trance, gasping, sobbing, choking on my own breath. My hands clamp over my mouth, my entire body shaking.

No. No. No.

I scan the area, eyes darting through the darkness and through the rain.

Rey is here. He is coming.

I won’t run.

Not anymore.

I will fight.

Fight for my life. Fight for her life. Fight for vengeance.

Because there is no greater wrath than that of a mother. "Help me," I whisper to the woman standing in front of me, her hollow eyes locked onto mine. She looks toward the woods, and I hear him closing in.

"Help me," I plead again, my voice frail and desperate. I crouch, my fingers curling around the jagged weight of a rock, shifting out of sight, waiting. She moves first, her long, rotting nails stretching toward him, reaching. But nothing happens.

He does not flinch.

He does not see her.

He is untouched by her rage.

I realize it then—he is beyond her reach.

He is not haunted.

He is the haunt.

"Take me," I whisper, biting my lower lip as I sink into the damp earth. The contraction rips through me, my breath trembling, breaking into small, quiet gasps. And then I feel it.

The cold.

The way my body drops in temperature, my limbs going rigid, my vision tunneling.

She enters me.

No pain.

Only fury.

She moves my body through the dead fields, my mind drifting somewhere else—somewhere darker where he cannot see. But we can, and we watch as Rey steps into view.

We are no longer victims.

We are predators.

My fingers tighten around the rock. As she uses my body to creep behind him, controlling my limbs like they are hers. And just as he turns, he meets the rock instead.

Crack .

A sharp inhale.

Before he can recover, she swings again, and this time he crumples.

I don’t stop.

She doesn’t stop.

I straddle him.

It is over before it even begins. Over and over and over, the rock collides with his face. Until his eye pops free from the socket, dangling, useless. Until his teeth shatter against his tongue. Until there is nothing left but ruin. By the time she leaves my body, my hands are still moving.

Still smashing.

Still erasing him.

Only when the pressure inside me splinters my body apart does my grip loosen. I crawl away, dragging myself as far as I can, my limbs burning, my breaths uneven.

She watches.

Blood covers me.

But the rain washes it away. I lean back against a tree, my body trembling as I strip away everything—everything—except for my white long-sleeve shirt. My nails dig into the wet soil. And I push.

I breathe.

Push.

Breathe.

Push.

The pain is blinding and all-consuming.

I am so tired.

Wet.

Tired.

Wet.

Push.

The rain continues to pour, lightning cracking in the sky like an open wound. From the distance, I hear the sirens. I hear him. And I sob, knowing I am safe.

And I push.

The sound of a crying baby shatters the silence, shatters me, shatters everything. The weight of her is warm, perfect, real. I pull her close, shielding her from the rain, from death, from everything that tried to take her from me. Keeping her safe. Right in Mama’s arms.

"Serena, thank God." Josh’s voice is thick with relief, as he runs towards me, ripping off his shirt and wraps it around us. Then his arms wrap around us, and I cry into his chest as he picks us up. He doesn’t care about the blood. He doesn't care about the weight of what we’ve done. We walk past her. Lily .

His sister.

She smiles.

"Lily," I whisper into my daughter’s soft curls, pressing a kiss to her tiny head. "Lily."