Chapter 4 #2
“Help! Please, no!” a man screams, and the echo of his words scatters throughout the cave, bounces off every surface, and returns to me in waves.
Horrified, I slam the cork back into the vial and clamp my fingers around it. The shriek fades, but the dull echo of panic lingers in my ears. The light inside calms once it’s sealed again.
At least now I know that what I feared is true. The vials contain… voices.
And mine is somewhere among them.
A moment after I close the vial, the cave erupts into chaos. The other lights shudder, their wings accelerating into a deafening buzz. They collide with each other, swirl around me, striking my arms, shoulders, and even my face. The cold glass scrapes against my skin.
The noise is an unbearable combination of shrieking voices, shattering glass, and the cave’s unnatural echo that amplifies everything to a painfully loud level.
I lurch forward, arms raised to protect my head, but the vials keep chasing me.
One hits my shoulder with such force that it falls to the ground and shatters.
A voice breaks out with a high-pitched scream, forcing my hands over my ears. It echoes, intertwining with the whipping of wings.
“Stop!” My lips part in soundless desperation.
The vials keep flying, each one like a tiny predator. My body curls in on itself. I search for an escape, for any glimmer of salvation—
Through the chaos, I spot a single vial. It’s smaller than the others, but it glows brighter. The number glints in the dark: 290.
‘Happy birthday, Harvest 290.’
Shielding my head with my arms, I rush forward. The vial dips low, then shoots upward. As I pursue it, the other vials keep slamming into me.
“Stop!” I yell again, but only a gust of air escapes my throat.
Vial 290 hurtles to the cave’s ceiling, then falls past my face. I reach out, my fingers grazing its smooth surface. Almost.
I crouch low and lunge forward. My hand grips the vial as my body drops to the ground. I hit it hard, face-first, but I hardly notice the pain.
My fingers tremble while I press my thumb against the cork. The light inside lashes out like a wild animal desperate for release. With a sharp pop, the cork flies free, light pouring out in a liquid flame.
“I’m the lioness! I’m the predator!” The words rip through the air, shaking the cave. Its energy pulses in my chest, floods through my body, consumes me.
The scream that escapes me isn’t just a sound. It’s a release. My throat burns, but I can’t stop. It carries everything I’ve held back—the fear that overwhelmed me, the pain of the glass hitting my skin. The fury of identifying myself as “Harvest 290.”
My body still trembles while the scream dies down, and my knees give way.
Then I’m back in that weightless state, falling into an endless abyss. Just as I’m about to vomit, my feet hit the ground in front of my house. My head spins, my legs shake, but I stay upright, handbag over one shoulder, bunny ears in one hand, and a keyring in the other.
The stranger is leaning against our gate, tossing something in his hand. I recognize one of the vials. Its wings are immobile, the light inside motionless.
I wish I could scream at this man for putting me through whatever this is. Something deep inside stops me. I won’t risk losing my voice again.
He curls his fingers around the vial and finally looks at me. “The contract is now in effect.” Then he pushes away from the gate and fades into the night. Before vanishing, he tosses over his shoulder, “See you soon, Harvest 290.”
* * *
The clicking of my heels echoes up the stairs to my room. I forget my usual routine of tiptoeing. I forget to take off my shoes. I forget where I left my keys.
My mind is blank, except for one thing. The incantation plays over and over in my head like a mantra:
Come forth from the darkness to hear my wish.
Come forth from the darkness to hear my wish.
Come forth from the darkness to hear my wish.
I sink onto the velvet stool in front of my mirror, the black dress still wrapped around me. In the mirror, a pair of wide eyes meet mine, ringed with smudged mascara, sharp with the residue of fear.
The face of someone terrified to her very core.
The vial. The light. My own voice clawing to escape me. Harvest 290.
Did it really happen? Was it… magic?
A detached part of me realizes I never let go of the bunny ears. They’re tangled in my grip. My purse dangles from my shoulder.
Come forth from the darkness to hear my wish.
Silence settles over me. But it’s not true silence. It’s a murmur that slithers under the surface of sound and wraps around my nerves. It counts down the seconds until I fall apart.
I notice movement out of the corner of my eye—shadows shifting when I’m not looking directly at them. They remind me of the shadows from school, haunted me for months, whispering their cruel jokes.
That was when I was silent. Fragile. Before I realized that the best defense is to attack first. Laugh louder. Cut deeper. Before I became the girl no one could mock again.
Come forth from the darkness to hear my wish.
Through the fog in my mind, I manage to open my laptop. My fingers tremble as I type: “Harvest 290.”
Nothing.
I try again: “The Black Joker,” then “legend of the Black Joker.”
The results are all about a Batman film.
“Voice in a bottle,” I type.
I dig my nails into my palms, scrolling past headlines like: “Mariah Carey Opens a Bottle With Her Voice” and “Mayor Attempts to Buy Election with Wine: Three Bottles per Voter.”
Unbelievable.
Fucking hell.
A sharp sound cuts through the darkness. My breath falters...It’s just an incoming message notification.
Then my heart starts pounding again—louder, faster.
Come forth from the darkness to hear my wish, Bunny.
Anger flares in my chest. I’ve worked too hard to build the current version of myself—layer by layer, scar by scar. I won’t let him undo it with a few cryptic messages.
I snatch the phone from the table, jaw clenched, bracing myself for whatever his next message is.
Niiiiiki where’d u goooo babe we didn’t even get to gossiping bout my man last nite lol
Boyana.
I’m being hunted by a psychopath who plays with shadows and souls, and she’s texting me about “her man.”
I pick up the phone, prepared to throw it against the wall.
But then I remember the man she’s talking about… is Branimir. We’re supposed to have a date tomorrow.
Can I go and pretend tonight never happened?
The bunny ears, crumpled on the floor, remind me I’m still wearing the dress with the fluffy tail. It clings to me like something foreign and wrong.
I yank it off, as if I’m peeling away flesh, not fabric. Only when the damn thing drops to the floor does my breathing ease.
No wonder that bastard thought I was easy prey. I must’ve looked like a caricature, leaping through a cave in a costume made for someone else’s amusement. Chasing voices.
I’m no one’s prey.
And I don’t bow to anyone—especially not to shadows.