"Fear is their weapon;
courage is your only defense."
- Anne
-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Catherine closed the door behind her when she heard the buzzing of her phone in her bag.
(CRASH!)
Thanks to her quick reflexes, she instinctively ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding a vase that had been sent rushing toward her apartment door. The ceramic shattered against the ground, scattering shards across the floor like confetti from a disastrous party.
Living in a six-story apartment building meant that the chaotic screams and fights of her neighbors echoed through the hallways, disturbing everyone. Today's morning drama had already started on a bitter note for Catherine. She glanced over at the open door, her heart racing, when suddenly a flying piece of glass came hurtling toward her. She dodged it effortlessly, adrenaline coursing through her veins.
A man, probably in his late thirties, burst into the hallway, his face flushed with anger and fear. His wife, Ruth, followed closely behind him, shouting, "You scumbag! I told you not to!"
As the chaos unfolded, Catherine stood there, a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside her. Ruth's gaze fell upon Catherine, and for a moment, the fighting paused.
"Ah... I'm so sorry, I know you—" Ruth began, but Catherine cut her off with a deep sigh, her patience already thin.
"It's fine," she replied, her voice steady despite the upheaval around her. Yet, fury flashed in her eyes as she turned to confront Ruth's husband, who stood defensively off the side as if bracing for a verbal storm.
With her sleeves rolled up, Ruth, who was almost 32 but looked significantly younger, continued, "I know it's tough, and this man—"
"No, no, I didn't do anything!" he interjected, desperation lacing his voice.
"Be quiet, you're interrupting," Ruth snapped back, her frustrations boiling over.
A cough rang out, cutting through the tension like a knife. Everyone knew it was intentional, a clear signal that the audience—neighbors peering out from their doors—was still very much engaged in the spectacle unfolding.
"Please, excuse me, I have to go," Catherine said, her voice heavy with resignation as she stepped toward the elevator.
As she walked away, her neighbors continued to stand there, puzzled expressions on their faces, whispering and speculating about Catherine's demeanor.
"Wow, she's calm today," one of them joked, a grin on their lips. But soon, attention shifted back to Ruth's husband, who stood there, realizing his moment of reckoning had finally arrived.
With a heavy heart, Catherine pressed the elevator button and stepped inside. Her fingers were tightly clenched.
Last time, when Ruth and her husband fought, it was around 8 at night, and Catherine was busy preparing for her job interview (she didn't pass, though). Their voices were so loud, every argument could be heard, echoing through the whole floor. Their TV was also on, they were probably watching a show. Catherine couldn't control much, and got out of her comfort zone, stomping the stairs like she would break them, just to switch off their electrical breaker, from the floor control system, and she did her job perfectly.
She took out her phone. It was her aunt who had called her before. Balancing her phone in one hand and carrying her black bag on her shoulder, she pressed the Ground Floor button.
"Hey, Catherine," her voice was calm.
"Hi, Aunt. How are you? What's up?"
Silence.
"You were calling."
(TING!)
The lift door opened, and she exited ahead on the gray cement pavement while talking to her aunt. Her aunt, Alliana, was a decent-earning lady, and Taylor, who had gone missing, was her daughter.
"So, how's everything going? You know I'm worried."
"It's..." Yes, she didn't want to answer that because she thought she hadn't come close to becoming a good liar.
"It's good. It's fine. Everything's fine."
"Okay... I am just..." Her voice went deeper, resembling Catherine's mother, and Catherine didn't like being reminded of her by anything, any means, or anyone.
"You know, when I came two weeks ago, I didn't expect you to be this frail."
"What do you mean, Aunt? Frail? Yeah, because I'm working hard. Isn't that normal?"
"No, that's not what I meant. I noticed you weren't eating well—you were either eating or eating nothing at all. And then what about those nightmares?"
Catherine told her aunt about her nightmares, regretting it as she knew her aunt wouldn't stop worrying and thinking of ways to help her. To be honest, she just didn't want to feel weak, or stuck, or… she didn't want help.
"I know I worried you, but I shouldn't have told you all that. Yeah, I was… I was being overly emotional. Please don't worry about it."
She realized her voice shook when she said this, almost unconsciously.
"But dear, I've made an appointment at the central hospital. It's on Thursday—"
"No, no, I'm good. I'm not mad... Sorry for interrupting, but I'm fine with this... this life... everything. At last, I have some peace... I don't know how to… I-I can't. I can't fight anymore. Sorry."
She was flushed, her face turning red again, and she continued. "I am not going to some therapist."
"I know, I know it's difficult. I just don't want to leave you alone, and... I think you should consider it. It will help, I promise. It will make you a better version of yourself." Her aunt's voice was soothing, her words felt like pure cotton, pure medicine, but Catherine didn't want therapy. Maybe she wanted help, but something or someone didn't want her to improve, or maybe she didn't know how.
There was silence. Yes, again.
"I care about you."
That sparked a fire—an immediate surge of emotions, filled with hate, love, regret, and everything in between.
"Then stop caring. Don't care about me. Let me be. You are not... You are not my mother, even—she..." She knew she had crossed a line, a line she didn't want to cross again.
"Sorry. Please don't call me for this again."
-_- _-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
Catherine's POV
The phone still felt heavy in my hand after I ended the call with Aunt Alliana. Her voice lingered in my ears — soft, worried, reminding me of things I wanted to escape.
A whole year since Taylor disappeared, and not a single day went by without her slipping into my thoughts.
My parents' divorce didn't leave much room in my head either. I could barely remember a day when I wasn't caught thinking about them. And Martin... my brother, off living some carefree life in Germany with Dad. Sometimes I hated how much I cared. Why am I still thinking about them? I didn't want to go there.
Aunt had to go to a colleague's wedding that day. Taylor insisted she stay home. So Aunt asked me to watch her. It seemed calm, quiet — just a normal day. I even took the day off because my head felt foggy, and my body was heavier than usual.
Taylor wasn't the annoying type — shy, reserved, almost invisible sometimes. But that night... I woke up and she was right there beside me. When I blinked, she was gone. I didn't know when or where she went.
I searched every corner of the house, calling her name into the emptiness.
It was like the walls swallowed my voice, and the silence screamed back.
Aunt told me later she stayed behind at the wedding because a friend insisted — she didn't ask me to drop Taylor off.
Weeks passed. Then months. Then months became more months. The search eventually stopped. No clues. No answers. Aunt stayed strong, I don't know how, but yeah, mothers... good strong mothers. She always said one day Taylor would be found. But I couldn't believe her. How could I?
After two months, my nightmares started.
I wasn't close to Taylor — at least, I thought I wasn't. So why did I keep dreaming about a woman eating her alive?
Some nights, I told myself maybe it happened — maybe the nightmare wasn't just a dream. But most times, I shook it off, convincing myself I was losing my mind.
The nightmares ate away my appetite. I stopped eating properly. Every time I sat to eat, the sound of my chewing made me cringe.
And then that woman — that horrifying image — would come back. Blood, Taylor, and that woman. I couldn't bear to watch someone eating, and this only made things worse.
Whenever I think of the woman's face, I don't know if it's just me, but she looked incredibly pitiful, as if she were silently calling for help — It was my one side.
The other side — It felt like something was devouring me from the inside — my mind, my soul, everything.
Now, I stand here, feeling exhausted, trapped inside my head. I want peace, but peace feels like a stranger I can't reach. I want to scream, to run, to disappear — but I can't move. The day is long, and the shadows are full of things I don't want to see.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
She was driving at high speed along a road with few pedestrians in the area. However, she passed by a decent state school and a teenager's sports camp. The temperature was mild, and a gentle wind blew—just the same February temperature as in Australia.
After a few minutes, she stopped at the side of the road, feeling exhausted, probably because of the heat, as the distance was just 41 minutes approximately. The absence of other cars liberated her; she had chosen this route herself.
She checked the messages from her colleague. She had been assigned to a house in Redland City, near Brisbane in southeast Queensland. She worked for Little Lovelies, a healthcare and babysitting agency throughout the country. However, she never envisioned herself in this role; she didn't want to be a babysitter, and she considered quitting at any moment.
Before this job, she worked in a call center near her apartment in same city Brisbane. She turned 21 last month. When it came to her dreams, she had never really thought about them. She wasn't the mature type, but circumstances like her parents' divorce had forced her to grow up quickly, sacrificing many things.
When she was 11, she had thoughts about becoming a movie director, but they faded when she reflected on her situation.
While scrolling down the messages, she saw her mother's missed calls at about 8:00 a.m. Catherine was taking a shower at that time.
She sighed, looking outside the window, then settled back into her seat again and started listening to the voice notes.
"Catherine, dear..
It has been a long time since we haven't met, but it is not that I didn't miss you, I miss you a lot, this is a request indeed. I want you to come and meet me here in Germany ."
"I am not sure about your response, but.."
Catherine was red, her eyelashes wet at the edges. She was crying, but not entirely; she knew she was broken, but not completely.
She hit the steering wheel hard, just like she always did when she was feeling frustrated.
"Don't say no." It ended, and she quickly put it aside, wiping her face with a tissue.
"Shit..." She started the car engine at full speed and started moving again on the same route towards her client's house.
Catherine Riche grew up in a house filled with echoes of disappointment. Her mother, Stephanie, had been forced into marriage with Joseph, a carefree man who had never truly prioritized their relationship. He had only agreed to the union at his mother's insistence, and as the years passed, the weight of unmet expectations began to crush them both.
The road stretched ahead, empty and surrounded by dry land.
She was already running late for her babysitting job, and the thought of another night spent in a stranger's home made her stomach churn.
As she rounded a bend, her mind wandered to the voice notes from her mother, the weight of their strained relationship pressing down on her. Just as she was about to dismiss the thoughts, a flash of movement caught her eye.
[BANG!]
The sound of metal colliding jolted her back to reality. Her heart raced as she felt the impact re-echoed through her car. She quickly pulled over to the side of the road.
"Great, just great," she muttered under her breath, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the other driver stepping out of his car, a tall man with a rugged appearance and an unsettling grin plastered across his face. He appeared to be a few years older than her.
He approached her vehicle, his expression shifting from surprise to more calculating. Catherine rolled down her window, trying to keep her irritation in check.
"Are you serious?" he exclaimed, gesturing dramatically at the dent in his car. "You just hit me! What were you thinking?"
"I didn't see you!" she shot back, her voice edged with frustration. "It was an accident. Can we just exchange insurance information?"
He leaned closer, his eyes scanning her face, lingering a moment too long on her features. "You know, it's not just about the car. You could have hurt someone. We need to handle this properly."
Catherine felt a shiver run down her spine, but she brushed it off. "Look, I'm late for a job. Can we just—"
"Let's go to the gas station first," he interrupted.
"I need to fill up my tank. You can wait while I do that, and then you can pay for the damage afterward."
"Wait? Why should I have to wait?" she asked, in extreme fury. "This is ridiculous."
"Because it's only fair," he insisted, his smile widening. "I need to make sure I can get home, and you can cover the cost of the damage. It'll be quick."
Catherine hesitated, her instincts screaming at her to walk away. She was too tired to think clearly, and arguing further felt like too much effort. "Fine," she relented, rolling her eyes. "But this better not take long."
As they both climbed back into their cars, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The way he had looked at her, the way he had insisted on the gas station—it all felt wrong. But she pushed the thoughts aside, convincing herself that she was just being paranoid.
"Just get through this," she whispered to herself, starting her engine. "It's just a quick stop."
As they pulled back onto the road, the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the pavement. Catherine glanced at the man in her rearview mirror, his car following closely behind. The unease settled deeper in her gut, but she forced herself to focus on the road ahead, ignoring the red flags waving in her mind.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Catherine was just fourteen when the arguments started to fill the air like a thick fog, suffocating the joy in their home. She would sit on the stairs, listening to her parents' voices rise and fall, each word a dagger that pierced her heart. Her younger brother, Martin, only seven, would curl up beside her, his innocent eyes wide with confusion, unable to understand why their once-happy family was unraveling.
As the tension escalated, Stephanie's frustration turned into betrayal. She sought solace in the arms of another man, a decision that pushed Joseph further away. The day he found out was etched in Catherine's memory—a stormy night when the rain lashed against the windows, mirroring the chaos inside. She could still hear the shattering of glass.
Unlike her peers, who laughed and partied, she often found herself alone, haunted by memories of a family that had once been whole. The sight of happy families in the park or at the grocery store twisted her stomach with envy.
At nineteen, she was still wrestling with the scars of her childhood, feeling like an outsider in a world that seemed to move on without her. Every day felt like a struggle because of her past. The dreams of becoming a movie director flickered in her mind, but they felt distant, overshadowed by the reality of her responsibilities.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Catherine gripped the steering wheel tightly as she pulled into the dimly lit gas station. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting a foggy glow on the pavement. The stranger parked his car beside hers and stepped out. She felt a knot tighten in her stomach as he approached her window.
"Let's make this quick," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Sure thing," he replied, leaning against her car, a smirk playing on his lips. "But first, I'd like to get to know you a little better. What's your name?"
(Tch... very well.)
"I have work, don't you?" She raised an eyebrow.
"Everyone does, you seem to be having a bad day, Miss?"
"And you seem jobless today," she mocked.
"Is that an insult?"
"Does it sound like a compliment?"
He looked at her with a questioning gaze once more, which annoyed her.
"Catherine," she said, her heart racing. "And you?"
"Just call me Jake," he said, his eyes glinting in the light. "So, Catherine, what do you do for fun?"
"Not much," she replied, avoiding his gaze. "I'm just busy with work."
"Busy, huh? What kind of work?" he pressed, his tone casual but his eyes sharp, as if he were examining her every word.
"Babysitting," she said, trying to keep her answers short. "It's not that interesting."
"Babysitting... Must be nice to hang out with kids," he said, leaning closer, his breath warm against the window. "Do you have any siblings?"
She got somewhat lost in the question, of course... her past always succeeded in making her go crazy.
After her parents' divorce, Catherine's mother, Stephanie, married Kyle Solveig, a man who seemed to offer her a fresh start. But just seven months later, tragedy struck again. Kyle died suddenly from a heart attack during a flight, leaving Stephanie alone once more, her dreams of happiness slipping through her fingers like sand.
With their family in ruins, Catherine faced a choice. She could stay with her mother, who was drowning in her despair, or she could seek refuge with her aunt in the same country, or with her father in Mexico. The decision felt heavy, but she chose the former, hoping to escape the emotional turmoil that had become her life.
Joseph moved to Germany, taking Martin with him, leaving Catherine to navigate her teenage years alone. Though he sent money for her expenses, she refused to accept it when she turned eighteen. She wanted to carve her path, to prove she could stand on her own two feet.
The man waved in front of her, snapping her out of her thoughts.
"Y-yeah?" She had already forgotten what they were talking about.
"Siblings."
"Yeah, a brother," she replied, her mind racing. "He's in Mexico right now." She didn't know why she told him that, maybe because she was hoping to cooperate, knowing she would never meet him again.
"Mexico, huh? Sounds exciting. What's his name?" Jake's eyes sparkled for a moment, shifting from brown to a bright, almost unnatural green before returning to their original hue. She blinked, unsure if she had imagined it.
"Martin," she said, her voice wavering slightly. "Why do you want to know?"
"Just curious," he said, his smirk widening. "Family is important, right?"
Before she could respond, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She fished it out, glancing at the screen. It was Martin.
"Hey, Martin," she answered, trying to keep her voice calm.
"Cathy! I am half away from the city, are you home?" he asked, his voice filled with excitement.
"Uh, no, you should've told me before coming. I am on my way to work," she replied, glancing at Jake, who was now standing a few feet away, pretending to look at his phone.
"I'm going to be a little late for dinner. Sorry, but yeah."
"Okay, no problem. Just hurry back after finishing, alright? I missed you," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice.
"Yeah, I will," she said, her heart racing.
As she hung up, she noticed Jake had also dialed a number, his expression shifting to something more serious.
She couldn't hear what he was saying, but the way he spoke, low and urgent, sent a chill down her spine.
When he ended the call, she turned her attention back to him, but her unease grew as she saw three tall, muscular men stepping out of a black Jeep parked nearby.
They moved with a predatory grace, their eyes scanning the area as if searching for something—or—or someone.
"Catherine," Jake said, his voice suddenly low and menacing. "I think it's time we got going."
Her instincts screamed at her to run, but she forced herself to stay calm. "What's going on?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
"Just a little detour," he said, his smirk returning, but this time it felt more like a threat. "Trust me, you'll want to come with me."
Catherine's heart raced as she glanced at the approaching men, their intentions clear in their confident walk.
She knew something was very wrong, and she had to think fast. "I don't think so," she said, her voice firm as she started to back away.
Jake's eyes darkened, and for a moment, she saw that strange glimmer again, a flash of something dangerous lurking beneath the surface. "You don't want to make this difficult, Catherine," he warned.
Catherine's heart raced as she saw Jake take a sudden step toward her, his expression shifting from playful to predatory in an instant.
Panic surged through her, and she turned to sprint back to her car.
But just as she rotated, a deafening gunshot rang out, echoing in the stillness of the gas station. The sound pierced through her, leaving her ears ringing and her heart pounding in her chest. She felt a jolt of fear as she glanced down to see her car's rear tire deflating rapidly, a dark hole punctured through the rubber.
"Catherine!" Jake's voice cut through the chaos, and she turned back to see him standing there, a gleaming M1911 pistol gripped tightly in his hand. The two other men, tall and muscular, loomed beside him, their eyes cold.
"Now, now," Jake said, his smirk widening as he took a step closer. "Let's not make this difficult. Just surrender, and we can sort this out."
Catherine's mind raced. She couldn't let them take her. She raised her hands slowly, faking submission, her heart pounding in her ears. "Okay, okay. Just… just don't shoot."
"Smart girl," Jake said, his voice dripping with mockery. "Now, get in the Gladiator. We'll take good care of you, I promise." He gestured toward the black Jeep parked nearby, the engine growling.
As she approached the vehicle, she could feel the weight of the other man's gaze on her. She could sense his anticipation, waiting for her to comply. But she wasn't done fighting yet.
Just as she reached for the door handle, she noticed the man's attention shift to Jake, a moment of distraction that she couldn't let slip away. In a flash, she pivoted, her fist connecting with his stomach in a swift, powerful punch. He doubled over, surprise etched on his face as he stumbled backward.
"Get away from me!" she shouted. Without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around the man's throat from behind, her fingers tightening around his neck as she snatched the gun from his waistband.
The world around her seemed to freeze as she aimed the weapon at him, her hands steady despite the chaos. "I'll shoot him if you come any closer!" she yelled, her voice fierce and unwavering, her eyes locked on Jake.
Jake's smirk vanished, replaced by intrigue and a hint of respect. "You're bold, I'll give you that," he said, his tone shifting to one of cautious admiration. "But you're outnumbered."
"Go away or shut up," she shot back, her grip on the gun firm. "You think I'm just going to let you take me? You're wrong."
The tension in the air crackled as the three of them stood frozen, the threat of violence hanging heavy. Catherine's heart raced, but she felt empowered. She had taken control of the situation, and she wasn't about to back down now.
"Let him go, Catherine," Jake said, his voice low and steady, a dangerous edge creeping in. "You don't want to make this worse."
"Worse?" she scoffed, her finger hovering over the trigger. "You think this isn't already bad? You're the one who pulled a gun on me. Are you kidding me!"
Jake's eyes narrowed, a flicker of something deeper passing between them. "You're playing a dangerous game. You don't know who you're dealing with."
"Maybe not," she replied, her voice firm. "But I'm not going to just stand here."
The tension in the air was palpable. Jake shifted his right arm, the gun steady in his grip, and aimed it directly at her. Catherine's hold on the man's throat tightened, his face turning a shade of desperate red as he struggled for breath.
Panic surged through her veins.
"Y-your man will die! D-don't! Don't come any closer!" she stammered, her voice trembling with fear.
[SHOOT!]
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-