Blood. Slit throat. Black dagger. Blood. Altar. Zia's rolled eyes. Blood. Bucket. Hooded figures. Blood. Blood. Blood.

The young boy with the golden hair—crying, screaming 'STOP!'. The hooded figure with the black dagger—crouching in front of him, consoling him and saying 'We're doing this for you'.

If they did it for him, didn't that make him the culprit too? Didn't that make him one of the monsters I ought to destroy too? But then. . .

Why did he cry like his soul was being shredded to pieces? Like it was him bleeding at the altar? Like it was his life that was forever taken from him that day?

I don't understand any of this.

Blood blood blood. That's the only thing I see.

~ from the journal entries of Daisy

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☘︎ Eᴠᴇ Kᴀᴠɪɴsᴋʏ ☘︎

A person wasn't supposed to be obsessed with one single breathless moment after a lifetime of ordinary breathing. They weren't supposed to be addicted as though the moment was a curse woven into their soul but their wretched self didn't mind it one bit. They weren't supposed to be restless by the fact that the weaver of the curse refused to meet their eyes after casting the curse and all they wanted was to grab his jaw, demand answers or kiss him again—

"Did something happen between you and Xel?" Victoria's question is a result of calculated observance. She stares down at the rolled-egg I dropped onto her plate with curiosity, stabs the fork into it and brings it to her mouth. There's not much of a reaction but by the surprise in her eyes, I think she likes it.

I smile, then remember the question she asked and turn around towards the stove to avoid her inquisitive gaze.

"Probably fucked." Nikolai comments like a heathen, entering the kitchen and settling down beside Victoria. "Or french kissed or went down on—"

I whirl around with the spatula in my hand and smack him with it on the back of his head, "For Newton's sake, act your age, kid! Stop being so inappropriate."

"Innapropriately sexy? I agree." Nikolai grins like a fiend on steroids, "But am I right or am I right?" He places a hand on his heart, suddenly acting dramatic. "I'm jealous. You broke my poor, tiny heart."

I go to smack him with the spatula once more and he dodges so effortlessly, it makes me wonder whether he let me get a hit the first time on purpose. In a move complicated yet somehow seeming easy, he snatches the spatula from my hand, twirls it between his fingers, places a few leaves on it strategically from the salad laid atop the counter and presents the makeshift flower to Vicky. "For you, viper."

Viper?

Victoria watches the creation like one would a dead cabbage, then goes back to eating her breakfast instead. Nikolai's eyes sparkle at her reaction. He likely has some strange fetish for woman who put him in his place.

I sigh, shaking my head before being struck by a sudden realization.

"I never told you how I know Nikolai." I start, focusing my attention on Vicky. "He's my bestfriend's younger brother."

Victoria continues chewing on her food silently, "I'm aware."

Right, this girl keeps tabs on everything and everyone around her. Why am I not surprised?

Nikolai's grin widens, mischief evident in his eyes. "Stalking me?"

I fully expect her to ignore the statement like he is the dead cabbage now, but she chews on her food, tilts her head to the side, her pretty dark curls tumbling along. Then states almost in confusion. Almost. "Shouldn't I be the one phrasing that question?"

Neurons. So she knows about his obsession with Venom X and the way he'd stalked the mysterious digital personality for years.

Put in his place again, Nikolai bites his lip from letting out a chuckle. Leaning back in his chair, his hooded eyes watch her. "Do you like the thought of that? Me stalking you?"

This time, Victoria does ignore him, finishes her food and stands up to leave.

Smacking Nikolai on the back of his head with my hand this time for bothering her, I follow after Vicky while he bellows about me not being fair to him with a flair of drama extraordinaire in the kitchen.

On the way to the room, I spot Axel and Yuvraj outside on the porch past the open main door. Yuvraj is all dressed flamboyantly in his hawaiin clothes, scooted in front of Axel who does push-ups with one arm. While he made a gawk-worthy image with his upper body on display and back muscles flexing, I scowl at the thought that he should be resting instead of exerting himself. The guide keeps waving his hand in front of Axel's eyes who seems to be occupied in his mind by something. I wonder what he's so intently thinking about. . .

At the sound of a door opening, albiet with difficulty, I divert my attention away from Axel and towards Vicky, trailing behind her. Realizing I was following her, Victoria pauses, looks at me over her shoulder.

When I point at her room's door, she gets the message and pushes the door open, waiting for me to get in as well. I do.

Once the door is shut behind me, I lean against it while Victoria walks to her desk.

"What is it, Vicky?" I ask softly, somehow knowing something isn't right.

Victoria extends her hand towards the file on her desk and picks it up, making the black serpent lounging in it's vivarium next to the desk perking up at the sight of her. "I completed filtering through the documents bought from Bartholomew's house, and there are two things I derived from the information."

I nod, urging her to continue.

"Not even the top five members know the founder of the secret society, they've forever been a mystery. Bartholomew himself has been trying to find the founder's identity for years but failed on multiple occassions—the tracing maps, lists of suspects and receipts of transaction to detectives and investigators found in the documents prove it. Whoever the mastermind is, they know how to stay hiden without leaving a single trace." Victoria's eyes darken for a fleeting second, almost irrate. She dips her hand into the python's vivarium and the snake instantly curls around her arm, slithering up to her shoulder. "I tried tracking. It's like they don't exist. Or they have a very well-crafted false image made up."

It isn't going to be easy to find them, if at all possible, is what she doesn't say.

"The second thing. . ." Victoria walks up to me and meets my eyes, something akin to uncertain curiosity flashes in her amber irises before she conceals it and hands me the file, "There was a code message within the documents which I decrypted. It's a note for you."

"Note for me?" My brows furrow in confusion, taking the file from her and flipping through the pages to the last one she gestures towards.

I read the note, only to be drowned in a sea of unease at the content and what it implied. But it's the name of the recipient that has the sea freezing, stabbing me with it's icy shards.

◇

Rotten people recognize rotten people. Monsters recognize monsters. Didn't I tell you that once upon a time?
I'm a bit hurt you thought I didn't recognize you. I always will and I always have from the very start, Daisy. Or should I say. . .Eve?

P.S. thank you for getting rid of my father, by the way.

~ Michael

◇

Giving the file back to Victoria in a daze and not speaking another word, I step out of her room and rush up the stairs, returning to my room with a strange, disturbing feeling of perturbation gripping the cold recesses of my being.

Michael knew. He knew all along I was Daisy and pretended like he didn't have the slightest of idea, while I was betrothed to him. I'd assumed I managed to trick him with a false personality, but how could I forget Michael knew me just as well as I knew him? Like he said, rotten people recognized rotten people. But then why hadn't he revealed to the secret society about my identity, why hadn't he handed me to them when I was under his roof? Had he known all along I'd be stealing his upcoming project's blueprint?

Only a fool would assume he had hid things out of the non-existent goodwill in his heart. If Michael was ever asked to either save the world or himself, he'd doom the entire planet without a second thought and save himself, even if he remained the last man existing. If something benefitted Michael, he'd snatch the opportunity, without the slightest regard to anyone's life or death. Exposing me would have benefitted him a great deal if he wanted to further climb the ladder within the secret society. Then why hadn't he? I've already come too far in my revenge to let Michael ruin anything for me with his manipulative ways. What was he scheming?

The thought plagues my psyche like a festering disease as I mindlessly change into my night clothes, climb onto my side of the bed and try to fall asleep beside a sleeping Axel to get my mind of off pondering over this maniacally.

Slumber however, does not quite engulf me until the wee hours of the night.

Just when my eyes start shutting from exhaustion, I startle awake at the sound of harsh, haunted breathing beside me.

Axel.

-
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☘︎ Axᴇʟ Hᴇʀɴᴀɴᴅᴇᴢ ☘︎

---- Flashback : 16 years ago ----

Sometimes, all it takes is a game of hide and seek to witness a morbid truth, to be sucked into a cave of forever darkness.

The kids in my school hold a fascination towards hide and seek, often playing the game in the playground—hiding behind the slides, concealing themselves within the shades of the large oak tree, lying facedown in the fountain nary of water.

They don't call for me. I don't ask them whether I could join. It was rather simple like that.

Though I suppose my brother finds the entire ordeal quite horrendous, going as far as assuming that it must make me feel absolutely 'lonely' and 'left out'. I tell him it did not, but Heath remains deaf to my declaration.

Which is why I find myself in the basement, standing idly and waiting for Heath to come find me from my hiding spot because he decided that if no one plays with me, he will.

"You need to experience playing all these games, kiddo." He'd said.

I watch the grey walls surrounding me, the dark shade of them seeming ominous. There's silence here, except the occasional squeak of a mouse or two and the flickering of the lone bulb. Heath often tells me to stray clear of the basement, to not wander around here and I'd done as he says so that he doesn't keep repeating the words. He will never consider I hid here.

Something that might be excitement buzzes dully within my soul.

Keeping my ears perked to be alert of any oncoming footsteps, I walk towards the desk at the farther corner of the basement and crouch down behind it to be unnoticeable.

Minutes pass in hollowed silence, then hours. I do not quite remember when I fall asleep amidst the waiting. . .

I awaken to the sound of voices echoeing around me; strange chantings, a girl's scream, the drip drip drip of a liquid. Somehow the dimness is reduced by far lower degrees, almost coating the entire place in complete darkness.

Unease settles in my gut, unknown and unbridled, almost like an intuition that something is wrong. Still hiding behind the desk, I slowly peek from a corner, only to be instantly incarcerated by the sinewy grasp of terror.

Black candles surround a group of tall figures in hoods, circled around a stone altar, their palms clasped in front of them as though in prayer, their mouths chanting in a language unknown. Right in front of the altar stand two figures with an air of authority, as though they're the ones leading the entire charade. They both hold black daggers, inching it towards. . .

That's when I notice. Notice what's on the altar, who is on the altar, realize where the scream and the drip drip drip sound had been coming from. A young girl my age was bound to the altar, screaming and crying, her wrists cut, the crimson of her blood dripping into a silver goblet placed below the altar.

One of the hooded figure brings their dagger to the girl's throat and–

Bile rises in my own throat and then I'm screaming, running towards the altar, forgetting about hiding at all. My arms stretch towards the girl as though to save her, to stop them–

But I'm late.

Too late.

Too late too late too late too late.

The girl's eyes roll back, her throat open in the most gory of ways, her veins displaying amidst skin and bones as she bled and bled and bled onto the altar–

My vision darkens around the edges, panic gripping my bones–

I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe.

Hands grab hold of my wet face—I don't recollect when I'd started sobbing so profusely—trying to bring me out of my state of frozen horror. I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe.

"We're doing this for you." I don't know whether I kept repeating the word 'why' but someone answers my question, the voice of the particular someone seems familiar. So so familiar.

The person crouched in front of me, lifts her hood. Mom's eyes that are a mirror of my own, peer into me with sadness. "You won't tell anyone, right Hon?"

One of the hooded figure who led the charade was. . .Mom? Mom mom mom mom.

Then the another one with the dripping black dagger crouches beside her, lifting his hood as well. Dad? Dad dad dad dad dad dad.

"We're doing this for you because we love you, honey." Maybe I kept repeating 'why' again, maybe that's why he answered.

My throat constricts. I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe.

'No!' I want to shout at them.

'I don't want you to do this!' Is what I want to beg.

'How could you do this?' Is what I want to agonize over.

'If you did this for me. . .then I'm a monster.' I want to scream.

I don't want to be a monster. I don't want this. I want the girl to live, not be cut and bled like that. . . .

I'm a monster.

I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't breathe.

-◇◇◇-

I can't breathe.

"AXEL!" Delicate hands shake me awake, the alarmed sound of her voice making a surge of oxygen rush into my lungs.

My hands grips tightly onto the mattress below, breathing harsh and eyes lost of focus, as I still remain partially suspended in the haze of the nightmare of a dream.

I am a monster I am a monster I am a momster—

"Breathe." Those same hands hold my face now, the warmth and softness of her touch seeping into my skin, slowly bringing me back to my senses.

I try to breathe, feeling my sight clear little by little.

Then Eve's face is in front of me, brown eyes staring down into mine, concern lacing them.

I remember Yuvraj's accusation about Eve, remember the merciless way Pierce was killed, remember the way my parents killed that girl.

I'm not quite certain what takes over me, but in the next moment, my arms are around my wife's form and my forehead rests on her shoulder. When I speak, my voice pours with every ounce of trust I have left in the remnants of my fragmented soul, "You'd never do something like that."

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^ my child Axel is going to be so hurt when he finds the truth🥲

^ am I maniacal that I'm actually enjoying this bye🏃‍♀️

Anyways, lemme know how you feel about Michael knowing Eve's identity? Any theories? Also....thoughts on Axel's childhood flashback?👀

I tried to make the flashback as less morbid as possible after hunting down ritual stuff (the things I do for writing istg💀) but it still was disturbing🤪

Next chapter, we go to New York🤧💃