"Tashia! Tashia!"
She flinched, turning around as someone called her name.
"W—Why?" was all she could say.
Her companions exchanged glances and sighed.
"Are you okay? You've been spaced out since we got here," one of them remarked with concern.
Tashia gave a faint shrug. Lately, her mind wandered too often, heavy with thoughts she couldn't shake off.
"Sorry," she muttered, offering a small smile.
"We should get some rest anyway. This place is exhausting—and there's not even a vehicle nearby," another one of them complained.
"Tashia, are you okay sleeping alone?" one of her female colleagues asked.
She simply nodded.
"Tash, you really need to rest," someone added, patting her back supportively.
She knew they were going to drink again; she had no plans to join them. Quietly, she made her way to her room. The bed had already been made, clean and inviting.
Tashia changed into her pajamas, cleaned up, and tried to settle down. But something wasn't right. She wasn't herself. Her thoughts were scattered, her focus broken. She didn't even understand why she had returned to this town.
Outside, she could still hear laughter—her companions were clearly enjoying themselves. Her body was tired, but sleep wouldn't come. Instead, her head began to throb. She shifted on the bed, eventually moving to the study table in the corner.
She decided to start writing her narrative report, something she hadn't managed to finish earlier. Taking out her notebook, she also picked up her phone. She hesitated for a moment, afraid to open her photo gallery.
You have to do this, Tashia, she told herself sternly.
She gathered her courage and scrolled through her pictures. They all looked normal.
You're just overthinking things.
She focused on drafting the report while the noise outside slowly faded into silence. Eventually, the house grew quiet—perhaps her companions had finally fallen asleep, drunk.
Suddenly, she heard the door creak open. Footsteps entered the room behind her. She didn't turn around, assuming it was a classmate crashing for the night.
She kept writing, ignoring the sensation of someone watching her. But the weight of that stare became uncomfortable—intense, almost unnatural.
She glanced over her shoulder.
Darkness swallowed her.
She was no longer in her room, but once again trapped in that familiar spiritual realm. She stood before her grandmother, Felicia, imprisoned inside a cage.
"Tashia, granddaughter," the old woman called.
Tashia didn't answer. Instead, her eyes sought out young Ashley, who stood nearby. She walked toward her, keeping her distance from Felicia.
"Don't be afraid of me, child. I won't hurt you," Felicia said softly, reaching out.
"Grandma… Sister Sharlene told you she would help once she uncovered the full truth," Tashia replied, keeping her voice steady.
Felicia's expression shifted—urgent, pleading. "How long must we wait, Tashia? Ashley might never be able to reunite her soul with her body."
Tashia narrowed her eyes.
"Stop lying, Grandma. You just want to be set free."
"I'm telling the truth. If Sharlene doesn't act soon, Ashley may be lost forever," Felicia said grimly.
"What are you hiding from us?" Tashia asked, her voice hardening.
Felicia looked away.
"Everything I did… I did for you all. To help you survive. To give you a better life." Her voice cracked as her guilt simmered beneath the surface.
Tashia's heart ached, but she pressed on. "Why didn't you help Carmela? Why did you stay silent? Why did you let her suffer?"
Felicia remained silent.
"What do you mean?" a deep voice broke in suddenly—none other than Manuel Santiago, Carmela's older brother.
"You know Carmela, don't you?" Manuel turned to Felicia, confusion and accusation in his eyes.
"I… I don't know her," Felicia replied quickly, too quickly.
Tashia saw through it.
"Tell Sharlene to hurry, or she'll regret it," Felicia warned, avoiding further questions.
The vision shifted again.
Tashia was now in the Santiago home, witnessing a painful memory.
"You shameful girl!" a man's voice roared.
A loud slap echoed.
"Carmela, you're still young—you're still in school," a woman cried out.
"Dad, I'm going to get married," Carmela said, clutching her swollen cheek, tears in her eyes.
The man raised his hand again, but her mother stepped in.
"That's why I never wanted a daughter—they bring bad luck to the family!" the father bellowed.
Then the scene changed again.
Carmela had given birth.
"What will you name her?" the man beside her asked gently.
Carmela smiled down at the newborn girl in her arms.
"Sharlene Ellena," she whispered.
Tashia gasped. Sharlene… Ellena?
Was that really their Sharlene?
She saw more. A small child—around three or four—held a bracelet in her tiny hand.
"Take care of that, Ellena," Carmela said. "It's the only thing I can give you for now."
The bracelet. The same one Felicia had hidden.
Tashia's heart pounded. Grandma knew all along… she knew the truth about Sharlene.
As darkness pulled her back, she caught Leah's gaze.
"You know the truth, too, don't you?" Tashia asked.
Leah didn't answer. She simply walked away.
"You are close," Leah's voice echoed. "Once you know the truth, you will finally be able to put the pieces together."
Then she vanished.
Tashia woke up with a start, slumped over the study table. Around her, her companions were sound asleep, reeking of alcohol. She shook her head.
I need to go to Grandma's mansion, she thought, her determination renewed.
But first, I'll finish this report. Then I'll uncover the truth—no matter what. I won't let Sharlene live in ignorance any longer.
She glanced at her notes. There was someone else who needed to hear what she had seen—Vivianne.
Maybe… she knows something too.