While Olivia and James struggled to stop Angelo upstairs, Alex and Emma were downstairs.
Alex pulled Emma close, covering her ears with his hands — but she could still hear the screams from above. The sound tore through the walls, sharp and raw.
Emma shook violently, crying into his chest. Alex whispered over and over, "It's gonna be alright. It's gonna be alright. Angelo will be fine."
But this time, even he didn't believe his own words.
Tears rolled down his cheeks as he held Emma tighter, as if he could shield her from the truth itself.
Upstairs, when Angelo finally calmed, Olivia and James pulled him up. Their feet slipped on the blood-soaked floor as they guided him to the bathroom. Each step left a trail — wet, red, human. The house had gone quiet except for their unsteady breaths.
In the bathroom, they stripped Angelo's blood-stained clothes away piece by piece.
James stepped into the shower with him, turning on the hot water. Angelo flinched as it struck his skin. The water ran red instantly.
The cuts were gone. The wounds had sealed.
But the blood remained — a haunting, endless reminder of what shouldn't have been possible. It swirled around their feet, thin and pink, circling the drain like it was reluctant to leave.
Olivia stood outside the shower, tears still running down her face.
James's voice shook. "He needs clothes. Can you get some from his room?"
She nodded, wrapping her bleeding palm in a bandage. "Okay… I'll bring them."
When she stepped into Angelo's room, her heart began to pound. The air was heavy, copper-thick. The walls, the bed, the floor — all painted in blood. It didn't look real.
The smell hit her next — sharp, metallic, unmistakable. Fresh.
She took a deep breath and forced herself forward. The air burned her throat. Her foot slipped once, her stomach twisting, but she didn't stop.
She opened the drawer — more blood. It coated her fingers as she pulled out a set of clean clothes. When she turned back toward the door, she froze.
Alex was standing there.
His face had gone pale. His whole body trembled as he stared at the scene — at the walls smeared in red, the lamp glowing crimson from the light reflecting off the blood, the floor slick and wet, even the ceiling stained.
His breath hitched, sharp and shallow. His eyes widened in shock.
"Alex! Alex, look at me!" Olivia shouted, voice breaking. "It's okay. Look at me."
He flinched and ducked, tears spilling down his face. Between sobs, he choked, "What… what is going on?"
Olivia couldn't answer. She crouched down and wrapped her arms around him. He was shaking so badly it made her cry again.
After a while, Alex steadied himself and whispered, "Where's Angelo?"
"Your father's washing the blood off him," Olivia said quietly. "I need to take him these clothes."
Then she noticed something.
"Where's Emma?"
Alex wiped his eyes. "She fell asleep on the couch, so I tucked her into bed."
Olivia gave a faint nod. "You must've been terrified."
Alex didn't respond — just nodded slowly.
"Come on," she said, standing. "Let's go."
They returned to the bathroom. James looked up as they entered.
"Quickly," he said, his voice weary. "Let's get him dressed before he collapses."
Olivia handed him the clothes. A few smears of red still clung to the fabric from her hands, but no one said a word. James dressed Angelo quietly.
When Angelo stepped out of the bathroom, Olivia and Alex saw his face — and their hearts broke.
His eyes were lifeless. His expression hollow. His shoulders slouched as if the world itself had settled on them.
Olivia whispered under her breath, "My boy…"
Alex froze, helpless. The brother who used to tease him, who always smiled, was gone.
James exhaled, voice trembling with exhaustion. "Alex, can you help your brother to the living room? We need to change out of these clothes."
Alex nodded and moved beside Angelo, slipping his brother's arm over his shoulder.
"Come on," he said softly. "Let's go downstairs."
Angelo said nothing. His gaze stayed locked on the floor as they moved.
Downstairs, Alex eased him onto the couch.
"Do you want to lie down?" he asked.
Angelo gave a small nod and lowered himself onto the cushions. The moment his head touched them, his eyes closed. Sleep claimed him instantly.
Alex stood over him for a long time, silent.
Later, James and Olivia came down, both wearing clean clothes. They didn't speak. None of them did.
That night, the Walker family sat in the living room, surrounded by silence. The house smelled faintly of metal and soap. The walls felt thinner somehow.
How do you protect your child from something you don't understand?
On the couch, Angelo lay curled beneath a blanket, breathing slow and steady. Dreamless, maybe. Or maybe not.
Emma woke up and wandered out of her room, her small stuffed toy clutched tight in her arms. She padded toward the couch — but stopped a few steps away.
Her wide, innocent eyes fixed on Angelo. Not with curiosity.
With fear.
She didn't speak. She didn't cry. She just stood there — staring.
Then she backed away slowly, clutching the toy to her chest. When she reached the hallway, she turned and ran straight into Olivia's arms.
Alex saw it all.
And it hit him harder than he expected.
Later, as he walked past the couch, he stopped.
Angelo looked peaceful in his sleep, but Alex's eyes lingered on the dried blood still clinging to his clothes.
The imagination came unbidden — his brother drenched in red, screaming, sobbing, tearing himself apart.
He looked at Angelo's face. The face that no longer looked like his brother's.
He didn't say it aloud — but for the first time, he wondered: "Is he still my brother?"
He turned away, whispering under his breath, "No matter what it takes… I need to save him from this pain."
But now, another thought whispered in the back of his mind:
And if I can't save him… will I have to stop him?
The next morning
The sky was heavy, gray. None of them had slept much.
James was the first to speak. "We should go back to Father Aldric. Maybe he can help Angelo."
They got ready quickly. Angelo remained silent, distant, eyes dull as glass. Olivia held his hand the entire ride. Emma clung to her mother's arm, refusing to look at her brother.
When they arrived at the church, Father Aldric was already outside, returning from his morning walk.
He spotted them and waved. "Hello, Mr. Walker. What brings you here today?"
James hurried over, worry etched deep into his face.
Aldric's smile faded. "What happened?"
James told him everything — the screams, the blood, the healing.
Aldric's eyes widened. His voice hardened. "Where is your son now?"
"In the car," James replied.
"Bring him here," Aldric said.
James opened the car door. "Come on," he said softly. "Father wants to see you."
Angelo stepped out slowly, eyes down, saying nothing.
"Do you need help?" James asked.
Angelo shook his head.
He walked toward Aldric, Olivia and Alex following close behind. Emma hid her face against Olivia's shoulder, trembling.
Aldric studied Angelo carefully. Confusion flickered across his face.
"Is this… the same boy from before?" he asked, voice unsteady. "He looks completely different."
James nodded. "Even his voice and face changed."
Aldric looked to Angelo. "Will you show me the mark this time?"
Angelo said nothing. He turned, lifted his shirt, and revealed his back.
Aldric adjusted his glasses, leaning closer. The mark had grown — black tendrils of symbols twisting and overlapping until they formed a pattern too complex to decipher.
After a long moment, Aldric sighed. "It's worse than before. The symbols… I've never seen anything like them."
He looked at James, voice heavy. "I'm sorry. I don't know what this is."
Angelo lowered his shirt again, saying nothing.
Aldric placed a hand on his shoulder. "God is testing you, my boy. Be strong. Have faith. Everything will be fine."
Angelo finally spoke. "Bullshit."
Everyone froze.
"Angelo!" James snapped. "What in the world made you say that?"
Angelo's voice was quiet, tired. "If this is part of God's plan… then He has a sick sense of humor."
Aldric frowned. "I know how you feel, but you must have faith—"
Angelo turned to him, eyes silver and lifeless.
"Whatever this mark is," he said coldly, "it isn't divine. I can guarantee you that much."
Their eyes met — and something in that gaze made Aldric's blood run cold. He stepped back, trembling.
"I… I'm sorry," he stammered. "I can't help you. Please… leave."
James blinked. "Father, what are you—"
"Leave!" Aldric shouted, voice cracking. "And never bring this thing here again!"
Olivia tried to speak, "But Father—"
"GO!"
Silence fell.
Angelo looked at Aldric with disgust and muttered under his breath, "Should've known faith wouldn't help."
The Walkers turned and left.
Behind them, the church doors slammed shut — loud and final.
Even the sunlight outside felt cold.