"So, you're here, Ruth." Thalia called out to her.
Ruth nodded silently, her eyes fixed on Jasmin's photograph. A flicker of a memory tried to surface from the depths of her mind, making her flinch as she clutched her forehead.
"Are you okay?" Thalia asked with concern.
"Sorry, I've been having these episodes for the past few days," Ruth answered softly.
"Sit down for a while. It's heartbreaking what Jasmin is going through," Thalia said sadly.
Ruth simply nodded in response.
"Sit down," Thalia repeated.
Ruth didn't reply. She turned away and searched for a place to sit. Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on Greg, who was seated beside Ericka and seemed to be chatting cheerfully.
Greg noticed her and smiled. Even though he was still young, he had a way of speaking respectfully to elders.
Ruth approached.
"Greg," she greeted, smiling.
The boy turned to her.
"Sister Ruth," he replied, staring at her as if searching for something.
"Your older sister will be here soon," she said, settling beside him.
Greg continued watching her closely.
"Sis Ruth, are they your friends?" he asked innocently.
Ruth looked around.
"Who are you talking about?" she asked the boy.
"Ah, no one, Sister," Greg answered with a sheepish smile.
Silence settled between them. Ruth glanced at the scene where Jasmin had been murdered—stains of blood still marked the floor.
Jasmin… The name echoed in her mind. A dull sadness wrapped around her chest. She couldn't understand herself, nor the person who had killed Jasmin.
Her head throbbed again. She'd assumed it was just a normal headache, so she took some medicine before. Their family doctor had been caring for her, yet the pain lingered, unexplained.
She checked her wristwatch—it was nearly midnight. She needed to leave. Their driver was already waiting outside the gate.
"I'll head out now," she said, excusing herself.
Ericka just nodded. Greg, however, kept looking between Ruth and something behind her. He waved goodbye hesitantly.
She tousled Greg's hair with a gentle smile and walked out, her headache intensifying again, as if more memories were clawing their way to the surface.
The driver spotted her immediately, and she entered the car.
"Straight home, Ma'am?" he asked.
Ruth simply nodded. She needed rest.
She closed her eyes, hoping to soothe her aching head—but instead, she slipped into a deep sleep.
******
In her dream, she saw a child crying. The child's face was blurred, hidden in its palms, as it stood before a coffin.
Mom… Mom… The child sobbed uncontrollably.
Why? Mommy? Why did you leave us?
A group of children approached the crying one. A small girl hugged the child.
Then suddenly, Ruth found herself in the body of the crying child.
"Are you okay?" one of the little girls asked her.
She nodded, but a profound sadness weighed on her heart.
"Our mommy left us, too," said the girl in front of her.
"We can feel your sadness."
Ruth felt a strange warmth from the children.
"If you're sad, we'll sleep beside you."
Tears flowed freely from her eyes. Even though it felt like a dream, the grief was real. She didn't know who these children were—nor the identity of the crying child.
An aching tightness gripped her heart.
"---Ma'am Ruth?"
She woke to the driver's voice.
She touched her cheeks—they were wet with tears.
"When did we arrive?" she asked.
"I was just surprised, Ma'am. You didn't step out, and I saw you crying. Are you alright?" the driver asked, concerned.
"I… just had a sad dream," she said, pressing her forehead gently.
The driver nodded. She stepped out and looked at the mansion. Despite its grandeur, it didn't feel like home. It hadn't felt that way for two weeks—ever since the camping incident.
She used to feel fine before that.
Now, every time she returned home, a strange emptiness crept in. She entered the house quietly.
Her parents were away again—busy running the Dionson family business.
Ruth changed into her nightwear and lay on her bed. Despite it being almost morning, sleep still eluded her. Her mind lingered on the dream.
She also wondered why she was being given medicine once a week. She had ignored it before, thinking it was for her health. But now, curiosity began to rise. She couldn't make sense of her own thoughts.
And maybe she didn't want to.
What if the answers changed her life forever?
You need to sleep, Ruth, she scolded herself internally.
When she closed her eyes again, she found herself walking a never-ending dark road.
Then, she saw a woman running—her face was obscured by darkness, but it felt familiar. Panic filled the woman's eyes.
Child, I hope you're safe. I hope they don't hurt you. Chesca...
A gunshot echoed.
A tall man—perhaps in his 30s—was limping, trying to escape something unseen.
Mom! a child cried.
Ruth suddenly found herself inside the body of a five-year-old girl—the one who was crying for her dead mother.
Please, don't take our child. Have mercy, the woman begged.
The gun shifted between the woman and the child.
The man said nothing and pulled the trigger.
Run away, child. Forget this. Run. Save yourself.
Ruth saw the blood and saw the woman dying.
Mom! she screamed.
The man grabbed her and dragged her from the body.
Gunshots followed.
He glared at her and slapped her.
"You'll be next if you ever speak a word. Do we understand each other?" He growled.
The girl—Ruth—cried in fear.
"The moment you open your mouth, you'll follow your mother."
Ruth jolted awake, drenched in sweat. Her heart pounded wildly.
She clutched her chest, trying to calm the panic pulsing through her.