She didn't hear the scream—only the sound of impact.
A soft, blunt thud.
Then silence.
Jill stood frozen near the edge of the broken balcony, her breath stuck in her throat, her knees threatening to fold. Down below, Anna's body lay still, as if dropped from heaven.
Then came a voice.
"Jill."
Jill turned around. Larry stood behind her, silent, calm, and arrogant as usual. His hands were tucked into his coat pockets, as if he'd been waiting for this moment.
Her eyes, bloodshot and wide, were fixed on his face.
"You," she growled.
Larry tilted his head, as if he were admiring an unfinished artwork. "Don't blame her, she made her choice."
"You made her jump." Her face was twisted with anger.
"No," he responded with a shrug. "You did."
Jill's lip trembled, but her rage pushed past the grief. "I should kill you right here."
"You can try," he answered, that same frustrating sneer twisting his lip. "But we both know how that ends."
Jill stormed toward him, stopping just inches from his face. "You ruined everything," she said, her voice raw and splintered. "You made me a monster."
"I told you what your friends were up to," he said. "But you never listened."
She laughed bitterly and trembled. "You want credit for destroying me?"
"No," he said calmly. "Why would I do that? You're more important to me than anyone else in the world."
Jill burst into tears, her voice shaking. "You killed my mom. My dad. I watched my best friend bleed out right in front of me. Then Curt. Dave. You used every one of them. And you used me, too."
Larry's face remained motionless. "Curt and Dave are not dead. "They are... somewhere safe."
"Safe?" she asked. "How do you mean? They've been missing for months."
He raised his hand. "They are alive. They are breathing. But they aren't the same. I used them—yes, it is true. And even if they wanted to, whatever remains of them would have no idea how to be human. So I did people a favour: I kept them away."
Jill's voice dropped. "Kept them away from what?"
"From the world. From themselves. From the mess they'd make trying to feel like they mattered again."
Tears welled in her eyes, but she didn't blink. She refused to permit them to fall. "You make it sound noble. But all you do is take."
"I'll take full responsibility for everything that happens to you," Larry said, "but I need you now more than ever."
She shook her head, anger burning in her chest. "Then take this too. I don't care anymore. Just kill me. End it now." She yelled.
Larry stepped closer, his voice lowering. "Don't be stupid. If you try to kill yourself again, you won't die the way you think. You'll become something else. Something worse. You'll crack open doors you don't even know exist. And what walks through won't be me."
"I'm already broken," she whispered, her voice cracking as she began to sob.
"Good," he said. "That means you're ready."
Jill backed away, shaking. "Ready for what?"
Larry's gaze dropped to her stomach.
"Everything," Larry replied.
"I'm carrying your child," she sobbed. "You wouldn't dare hurt me."
"You're not carrying my child," he said. "You're carrying me."
"You're my path into this world, Jill. You always have been. You're not carrying a son, or a daughter, or something. You're carrying me. You're not a mother—you're a vessel. And once I'm here... you will be gone."
Jill's stomach turned.
"So I die in the end," she said softly.
"That was always the plan."
Jill clenched her fists. "Then I should kill it. Right now. Tear it out of me."
He smiled. "You won't. You still think there's a way out of this that doesn't hurt?"
"I've stopped fantasizing," Jill hissed. "No more, Dave. No more, Curt. There's no one left to use."
"You think I'm bound to your present?" Larry laughed. "Jill, I know everything you've ever wanted. I know the faces you don't talk about. The names you buried before this even began. Before Curt. Before Dave."
She was shocked and confused.
"You can't."
"I can," Larry said. "I will. I'm going back."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Back where?"
"To the first," he said. "To the one you wanted before you even knew Curt and Dave. I'll take him. They're mine. You gave them to me the second you longed for them."
"No," she said again. "No, no, no—"
"Yes," he said, and his voice, for the first time, carried heat. "You let me in long ago. Now I'm just walking through the doors you built."
She stumbled back against the cracked wall, her hands shaking. "You can't. They had nothing to do with this. They're my past."
"They have everything to do with this," Larry said. "You started writing the story long before I arrived."
A cold, sharp silence pressed between them. Jill's chest rose and fell like she'd forgotten how to breathe.
Then Larry leaned close, his breath brushing her cheek.
"You should rest," he whispered. "There's a lot more coming. And you'll want to be awake for it."
And just like that, he vanished.
Jill stood alone in the wreckage of what used to be a moment, a balcony, a friendship. Her fingers tightened around her stomach, not protectively, but as if she might rip it all out with her bare hands.
Then a thought returned—a name.
A memory she swore she'd never let herself remember.
A boy who once stroked her hand and helped her forget everything terrible in the world.
And for the first time in weeks, she truly felt fear.
Because she'd just remembered him.
And that meant Larry did too.