Tashia stared at her phone, troubled by what she had just seen—a secret photo she had taken of their grandmother's old notebook. It contained a list of names, and one in particular gnawed at her thoughts. She let out a quiet sigh.
"Tashia," someone called out, snapping her out of her thoughts.
She blinked, slowly registering her companion's presence.
"Are you okay?" her classmate asked, concern on their face.
Tashia inhaled deeply and gave a silent nod.
"Come on, let's head to our destination," her classmate urged.
"I'll catch up," she replied softly.
Her classmate walked ahead, and Tashia quickly followed.
Focus on the task first, Tashia, she reminded herself as she caught up with the group.
They began walking toward their assigned destination. As they went, Tashia scanned the surroundings. This was where she had been born and spent her early years—before her family moved to the city in search of better opportunities.
She couldn't remember much from that time—she had been too young. Most of what she knew came from her sister, Vivianne.
The province really is peaceful and wide open, she thought as she quietly observed the streets and houses.
"We're here," one of her classmates announced.
Tashia looked up at the building that stood before them. Time had turned it into a piece of history. This was the house they would be staying in.
"Are you sure we're allowed to stay here?" one student asked nervously.
"We already got permission. And our teacher said it's approved for educational purposes, remember?" Another replied confidently.
"I know. I'm just asking... is it safe?"
Tashia remained silent, listening to the conversation, swallowing hard.
The Santiago mansion, she whispered in her mind. Her pulse quickened.
Their group stepped inside. She wasn't sure why, but sweat suddenly began to bead on her forehead.
An elderly man greeted them. He explained he was the caretaker, keeping the entire house clean and intact.
"Don't enter the restricted areas or touch anything. The items are very old," he reminded them, his voice raspy.
"If you need anything, call me." He limped away after his warning.
Once inside, some of her classmates explored the outside grounds, leaving only two of them indoors.
"Tashia, can you check out the upstairs?" her companion asked.
She nodded and quietly made her way up the stairs, careful not to disturb anything. She didn't want to trigger any visions—especially not here.
She took out her phone, intending to record some shots for their documentary project. As she raised her phone, she froze.
A woman covered in blood stood in front of her.
Shocked, Tashia dropped her pen. She quickly picked it up, heart pounding. A chilling sense that she was being watched crept in. She swallowed hard, trying to suppress her fear.
The woman stared directly at her—bruised, battered, and covered in welts.
Help... the figure whispered weakly.
Tashia instinctively turned away, but a cold hand grabbed hers.
In a flash, she was transported into a vision of the past.
A woman and a man were fleeing in the night, the man carrying a small girl—around three or four years old.
"Let's save Ellena first," the man said, breathless.
They stopped at an abandoned warehouse.
"How did my father find us?" the woman asked, confused.
"We need to ask my brother for help," the man replied, worry etched across his face.
"But how?" she asked.
Suddenly, they heard approaching footsteps. Panic spread across their faces.
"We'll hide Ellena for now," the man whispered.
The woman nodded. They gently placed the child into a large box.
"Stay quiet, baby. We'll be back. Don't cry, okay?" the woman said gently, hugging her tightly.
"Mommy and Daddy will come back. Stay here, Ellena," she added, tears falling.
They stepped outside and were immediately confronted by men in black.
"Arrest those two!" a voice shouted.
They tried to escape but were cut off at the exit.
"Please, Dad—don't do this. Let us live in peace," the woman pleaded, struggling against the grip on her arm.
A middle-aged man walked up, sneering, and slapped her hard.
"You're no child of mine. I disowned you long ago."
"If you already disowned me, why are you hurting my family?" She cried.
Another harsh slap.
"You married our enemy. I will erase this shame from the Santiago name!"
Tashia's heart pounded as she watched.
"You agreed to peace! You said our child wouldn't be touched!" The woman screamed, sobbing.
"You will stain the name we've built for generations! Take them away!"
Tashia saw them dragged off—tortured—their faces scalded with boiling water, their bodies whipped. It was too much to bear.
Then, a man appeared, holding a child.
"Don't take my daughter! Please!" the man screamed through bloodied lips.
The older man simply smiled and took the child from their arms.
Ellena... the woman whispered moments before her life faded away.
Tashia gasped and jolted upright. The woman was gone.
She sat on the floor, trembling and breathless. Her vision blurred.
Is she... Manuel's sister? Tashia wondered.
"Tashia, are you okay?" a classmate called out.
She looked up, startled.
"I—I'm fine," she replied, trying to hide the shaking in her hands.
She pulled out her tumbler and drank to soothe her parched throat.
"I'll just go downstairs," she whispered.
Her classmate stared at her, concerned.
Once downstairs, Tashia opened the photo of the notebook on her phone. Her eyes locked onto a name:
Carmela Geraldine Santiago–Gonzalez.
Her thoughts raced. Everything was more tangled than she'd expected.
She scanned her surroundings again—and for a split second, saw the woman once more.
Then she vanished.