You are afraid

You are afraid

Vladimir drove the car to the address I gave him. He seemed to know the city well because he drove near my home without even using GPS. My old home, to be exact.

Through the window, I could see the pitch-black asphalt road stretching out endlessly, the surface gleaming faintly under the sparse streetlights. Tall trees lined the road on either side, their branches swaying and creaking softly in the chill night wind. The darkness pressed in around me like a weight, broken only by the occasional flicker of distant lights and the rhythmic hum of the tires on the road. The sign in front of me became clearer and clearer. I looked up and saw the words — Green Manor.

Green was my family name, and I knew that my home was not far away. The sight sent a sudden cold wave coursing through me; my skin prickled, and I felt an odd queasiness twist deep in my stomach. Old memories lurked just beneath the surface, waiting to rise. When the fear returned, sharp and unbidden, I told Vladimir to stop the car.

"Are you all right?" Vladimir reached over and touched my forehead gently. "You're so cold!"

"I'm fine!" I said, trying to sound steady, as I took off his coat. I pulled my old clothes out of the bag and put them on quickly, feeling the rough fabric scratch against my skin. I can't go home in such bright clothes. It's against the rules.

"Brinna, can you tell me what you're doing?" Vladimir grimaced, worry twisting his features as he grabbed my hand—the same hand that was pushing the door open. "Don't leave me!"

"Vladimir, I have to walk the rest of the way!" I turned my head away from him, though his heavy breathing — almost snoring — still filled the cramped space between us.

"Let me stay with you. Whatever you're going to do!" he said, his voice low and pleading.

"Why do you care?" I looked at him and sneered, my voice sharp and cold. "I've already repaid you. Why are you pretending to care about me? I think you know the relationship between us. You don't need to ask about my private matters."

I struggled to pull free, to let go of his hand, but he clung tightly to my wrist, his green eyes burning with an anger I hadn’t seen before.

"Let me go!" I growled, frustration rising in my chest.

Vladimir stared at me for a long, tense moment, then suddenly pulled me into his arms. I tried to break free, but his hands wrapped around me like wire, holding me fast. Then, without warning, he pressed his lips to my ear.

"You're afraid, Brinna!" he whispered in a low, rough voice. "I smell you, and whoever you're going to face next, I suggest you wipe that fear off your face!"

He kissed me on the forehead without any explanation , just like a kiss to send a loved one away from home.

Then he let go of my hand and opened the door for me.

I got out of the car and started walking down the long, empty road. The headlights behind me cast long shadows, lighting the path ahead like twin beacons in the night. The iron gate of the manor was right in front of me, looming cold and silent. I did not look back when I rang the bell. I heard the car engine hum faintly behind me, then the lights went out. He was gone.

"Hello, Green Family! May I have the name of your visitor, please?" The doorbell rang with the loud, clear voice of Liam, the housekeeper.

"Brinna Green!" I said my name reluctantly, the syllables heavy on my tongue.

Soon, housekeeper Liam opened the door for me. He still looked the same after all these years — stern, serious, and never one to smile. But at least he had some respect for me.

"Mr. Green is waiting for you in his study!" His serious tone made the gravity of the situation undeniable.

As I made my way inside the house, Liam walked just ahead of me. The scent of flowers wafted faintly from bushes lining the stone path, sweet and overpowering. I wrinkled my nose and exhaled sharply, trying to clear the smell from my senses. The sweetness was cloying — almost sickening — and made my stomach churn anew.

Liam’s figure seemed to sway before my eyes, and I looked up. The house stood tall and somber — a blue-gray monument bathed in white moonlight. The silver glow cast long shadows across the top floor, and slowly, the shadows took the shape of a figure in my memory — a figure I could never forget. In a trance, I saw a white butterfly perched on the roof. She folded her wings and stood still on the attic wall, her black eyes deep pools of sadness.

Suddenly, the white butterfly spread her wings and fell from the top of the building like a heavy object plummeting from the sky. I used to dream she would fly gracefully in the air or be carried away on the breeze. But no — she didn’t fly. She fell hard to the ground.

Blood stained her white skirt.

That day, I saw her. I remember standing right there, frozen. I was only three years old at the time, and when I finally came to my senses, I ran screaming.

A man grabbed my arm, covering my eyes with his hand as he lifted me onto his shoulder.

“Mom!” I remember crying out that word.

So many years have passed. The ground is clean now. All the blood has been washed away. But I know that every inch of earth I step on drank her blood long ago.

She was buried in the soil. She must have felt the cold and loneliness of Hell just as I did.

I stepped up onto the porch, the light from inside the room casting a faint glow onto the tips of my shoes. I looked down and saw a dark shadow stretching out from above my feet. A woman stood in my way.

When I looked up, my stepmother Tessa — struck me a hard slap.

Her sharp nails raked across my cheek.

"How dare you do this to my daughter!" Tessa said menacingly, her eyes wide and heavy with dark eye shadow.

I wiped my cheek with one hand and saw the smear of blood on my index finger. The curses in my ear continued.

"If anything happens to my daughter, you will regret it!"

I looked up and met Tessa’s furious gaze as she yelled. She paused suddenly when she saw my eyes as if she was staring at something she’d never seen before.

"You have no right to hit me, you b.itch," I said each word slowly and deliberately. "You don’t deserve it!"

"How dare you humiliate me like that!" Tessa’s voice cracked, choked with rage, but she still tried to act fearless.

I raised my hand to strike back, but before I could, Liam grabbed my wrist just like he had stopped me from running to my mother when I was a child.

"Miss, don’t keep your fiancé waiting too long!" Liam’s voice was low, a warning.

Even Tessa dared not be arrogant after that. She knew provoking my father would not end well.

She stepped aside and glared at me as I passed, her eyes promising this wasn’t over.

Liam led me up the stairs to the study on the second floor and, before knocking, handed me a tissue from his pocket. Though he said nothing, I understood exactly what he meant.

He wanted me neat and well-behaved for the meeting with my father. Everyone in this house knew his rules.

I took the white tissue from Liam’s hand and wiped the blood off my face. When Liam reached out to take the used tissue, I threw it out the window.

The tissue caught the night wind, floating a few times in the air before slowly drifting down , just like the white butterfly in my memory.

With a surprised look in his eyes, Liam stood silently as I knocked on the study door. When permission was given, I gripped the doorknob, opened the door, and stepped inside.

Wipe that fear off your face! I remembered Vladimir’s words sharply in my mind.