Chapter 2: GUTS
The three of them walked down the quiet street, the wind lightly brushing their faces. In the distance, Kayla's house came into view.
"Finally, after that long walk—we're back at Kayla's house," Louie said, his exhaustion lifting just a little.
Zep stayed silent, his mind still trapped in thoughts of the murder they had heard about earlier.
As they stepped inside, Kayla looked at Zep with concern.
"How are you feeling?" she asked gently.
Zep only nodded. "It's nothing."
They slipped off their shoes, like always. Kayla's home was neat and orderly—no dirt allowed beyond the door.
It was already past three in the afternoon. The three sat at the table, eating the meal Kayla had cooked. As they ate, the conversation naturally shifted to yesterday's horrific news.
"What happened was horrible… worse than what an animal could do," Kayla said, her voice sharp with anger.
Louie nodded in agreement—just as his spoon slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor.
Despite the tension, Kayla felt a little safer knowing the police were now stationed near the site of the incident. Her two friends would be safe going home later.
Suddenly—knock knock knock—a loud rap at the door made them all jump.
Kayla opened it.
"Surprise!" said her Aunt Gema, beaming with joy.
"A-auntie? You're back early… I thought you weren't coming until Sunday?" Kayla asked, surprised but smiling.
Still, she didn't think much of it and let her in.
"Ohh! Your friends are here?" Gema asked cheerfully, looking at the two boys as if she hadn't seen them before.
Louie waved with a grin—he had always appreciated Gema's kindness.
Zep waved too, awkwardly. He wasn't sure what to make of her expression. Even Kayla felt unsure.
"Auntie… they're always here," she said slowly.
Gema laughed it off, holding her forehead. "Sorry, kids… I'm getting old." She handed Kayla a white bag filled with food and small items.
Kayla took the bag and sorted them quickly—food on the table, other things on the couch. She was worried. Her aunt seemed disoriented, maybe from the long trip.
"Auntie Gema, rest first. I know you're tired," she said kindly.
Gema nodded silently and made her way to the bathroom.
As soon as she was gone, Zep leaned toward Kayla. "Is it just me, or is your aunt acting weird today?"
Louie shrugged and tried to lighten the mood. "You guys are overthinking. My parents act like that when they're tired."
Kayla nodded, still unsure. "Maybe you're right… I'm just not used to seeing her like this."
To distract themselves, Kayla invited them to the altar room upstairs. They began climbing the polished wooden stairs.
Suddenly—whoooosh!—a gust of wind slammed open the windows and door.
"Close it! Quick!" Kayla shouted. They rushed back and shut everything.
"What was that?" she asked, her heart pounding.
The boys just looked at each other, unsure.
Their phones buzzed.
PAGASA Weather Alert: Strong winds expected. Stay indoors. Secure all windows and loose objects.
"Ah, that explains it," Louie said.
"That's why the wind was so strong," Kayla added, relieved.
They reached the altar room. The space felt frozen in time. Candlelight flickered softly, casting long shadows along the wooden walls. The scent of lavender, frankincense, and something sour—like old flowers—lingered in the air.
On the wall stood the family altar. Old statues of saints sat quietly, worn by time. A cracked rosary hung from a nail, its beads dark and weathered. A photo of Grandmother Sela rested on a small table beneath it, her gaze piercing even through glass.
Her eyes seemed to watch them.
Louie shivered. "This place creeps me out… especially those statues," he whispered.
Zep, however, felt light. "It's peaceful here," he said. Their family didn't have an altar like this—only a rosary hanging above their door.
"Don't be afraid louie," Kayla said, almost amused. "There's nothing to fear."
She bent down to pick up her grandmother's photo.
Then—a weight fell over Louie and Kayla. It was as if the floor beneath them would crumble, pinning them in place. They couldn't move.
Zep felt wind against his skin—something only he noticed.
Behind them, silently, Auntie Gema appeared.
Her smile stretched unnaturally wide. Her teeth—sharp. Her eyes—black, blood pooling around them. She stared straight at Louie like a predator ready to feast.
The images on the altar turned toward Louie. Watching. Judging.
Louie backed away, knocking over the table. Kayla noticed her bracelet—glowing red and black.
Louie gasped. "G-get away from me!"
His body trembled. He peed on himself. Zep rushed to support him as his knees gave way. Kayla stood frozen.
"A-auntie…? What did you do to him?" Kayla asked, panic rising.
Gema just smiled. "Oh dear, sorry if I startled you," she said sweetly. "I heard a noise earlier, but I was showering."
Louie whispered something to Zep—then fainted.
Gema offered to help carry him downstairs. She remained calm—too calm.
Kayla placed her grandmother's photo back as they settled Louie on the bed. Zep stood nearby, still tense.
Gema, ever-smiling, began to speak of Grandmother Sela. "She was kind. Lived to be 112. Gave everything for her family."
Her words calmed Kayla slightly, but her bracelet still pulsed with red light.
By 7 p.m., the streets were silent. People had gone home early. Even the jeepneys had thinned out.
Police officers patrolled nearby, dressed in navy blue, their weapons ready.
At 9 p.m., Kayla gently woke Zep and Louie.
"Are you going home? Or staying?"
"I have to go," Zep said. "My mom will worry."
Louie blinked, confused—almost like he forgot what happened earlier. He said nothing about it.
Kayla hesitated, but Auntie Gema appeared again. "Let them go," she said cheerfully, unaware of the night's danger—or pretending to be.
Louie flinched at the sight of her but hid it.
As they left, Louie whispered to Zep, "You won't believe me..."
Fifteen meters down the road, he stopped.
"You saw it, right? That… thing?"
Zep nodded slowly. "I believe something's wrong. But I need to see it again with my own eyes..."
Far from the city's heartbeat, silence cloaked a small, aging house nestled at the edge of the neighborhood. The world outside was asleep—but inside, fear was wide awake.
Kayla lay curled beneath a thin blanket, her eyes open in the dark. The quiet pressed against her like a weight. Her bracelet pulsed faintly, glowing with an odd light that refused to fade. She didn't know why.
Then—something shifted. A dog barked in the distance. Tires crunched through dead leaves. Her body stiffened.
A sudden crash.
The front door was forced open.
Kayla's breath caught. Panic flooded her veins. She darted toward the window, just enough to peek outside.
Below, an armed man in all black and cloth mask stood watch, unmoving.
She turned toward the door—but it was too late. It opened.
Two more men surged inside, weapons raised. Guns. Real ones.
She backed away instinctively. The bracelet on her wrist glowed brighter.
"Where's Aunt Gema?" she whispered to herself, heart hammering.
No answer. Only chaos.
She fought—she tried—but she was just a girl. A blow came fast. The metal of the pistol struck her head. A sickening crack.
Everything swayed. Her vision doubled, then dimmed. Her knees gave out.
As the world closed around her, Kayla caught a final glimpse: Aunt Gema, standing at the top of the stairs… smiling.
Smiling.
Outside the dim, dusty house, the kidnappers dragged Kayla's unconscious body into the night. The wind carried only the faint sound of her scream—raw, broken, and echoing like something ancient had been torn open.
Aunt Gema stood by the stairs, unmoving. Watching. The glow from Kayla's bracelet flickered one last time before fading beneath her sleeve.
And then…
That sound.
That scream.
It pierced something deeper than memory.
It cracked through time.
Suddenly, Aunt Gema staggered. Her breath hitched. A tremor ran down her spine as something surfaced—not a thought, not a dream.
A memory.
But not hers.
The real Gema.
The original woman who once lived in this body.
She remembered that same scream—her own—back when they came for her.
The way her lungs had burned.
The way she had cried out for help.
How her voice shattered before her body did.
Her eyes widened. For a moment—just a flicker—there was fear in them.
As if the soul beneath the skin remembered death.
Remembered being torn from life and buried under someone else's will.