The door slid shut behind her with a soft hiss, but Shivani didn't move.
She stood there in the hallway for a long moment, hand still hovering near the panel, her chest rising and falling in quiet restraint. She hadn't meant to slap him. The sting still lingered faintly on her palm.
Why had she done that?
Because when Arin whispered, "It's my fault…", something inside her twisted violently.
Maybe it was anger. Maybe fear. Maybe both.
Her expression, once stern and composed, began to crack when no one was watching
Om Sai leaned lazily against the hallway wall a few steps away, arms crossed, watching her with more seriousness than usual.
"So," he muttered lightly, "are you gonna cry, punch a wall, or pretend you don't feel anything like always?"
Shivani stayed silent.
He smirked but didn't push further.
She closed her eyes—only to open them not in the hospital hallway… but in a memory she had tried so hard to bury
I used to think mornings were warm. That laughter could never disappear. That the scent of mom's cooking meant safety.
I was eight.
"Shivani! Breakfast is ready!"
Mom's voice floated through the hallway like sunlight. I was still half-asleep, hugging my pillow while drooling on my blanket. My brother, Aarav—two years older—burst into my room with a stupid grin.
"Wake up, sleepy cow," he flicked my forehead.
"Ow! I'm not a cow, you donkey!" I yelled and threw a pillow at him.
He dodged and made a face. "Mom made parathas. I'll eat yours if you're not there in 10 seconds."
"Wha—HEY!!"
I jumped up, nearly tripping over my blanket as I sprinted out. The house felt warm, alive. I could hear mom humming in the kitchen and dad changing after coming back from work. Aarav was already stuffing food into his mouth like a starving wolf.
I sat beside him. Mom placed a hot paratha on my plate and kissed my hair. She smelled like jasmine soap.
Dad walked in, tie undone, tired eyes softening when he saw us.
We ate together. Aarav teased me about not being able to beat him in running races. I kicked him under the table. Mom scolded us with that fake angry tone that always made us snicker. Dad laughed quietly, saying he'd sign me up for sports training soon because "my little tigress needs to roar."
Back then, I believed him.
That night, after school and more teasing, after playing hide-and-seek with the neighborhood kids, after mom's spicy curry and dad's jokes, I curled up in bed. Mom came to tuck me in. As always, she told me a story.
This time… it was about a warrior named Kalkin. A man who came from nowhere and fought monsters to protect humanity. A legend. A savior with power that could destroy entire armies. She described him like a god—terrifying yet righteous.
"Is he real?" I asked sleepily.
She smiled. "Maybe. Or maybe legends begin with truth. Sleep, sweetheart. Tomorrow will be a good day."
She was wrong.
The next morning started normal. Sunshine through curtains. School bag on my back. Aarav annoying me on the way, calling me short. My best friend Ritu holding my hand as we skipped down the road. Teachers. Lunchboxes. Playing chase after class.
I remember thinking, while running, Life is fun.
I didn't know I was running toward hell.
When I came home, the sky looked darker than usual. The city sirens started blaring.
EMERGENCY BROADCAST: UNKNOWN THREAT. EVERYONE PROCEED TO EVACUATION POINTS.
Mom was frozen in front of the TV, face pale. She grabbed me and hugged me tight, trembling. I felt her heartbeat thunder.
"Mom…?" I whispered.
She forced a shaky smile. "Everything will be okay."
She was lying.
Dad crashed into the house, panic in his eyes. "We have to go. NOW."
"Where's Aarav?!" Mom shouted.
"He's still outside—" he began, but stopped when Aarav burst in, panting, face white with fear.
"I saw something—fucking huge—" he choked.
"Language!" Mom snapped instinctively, even then.
Dad grabbed us. "RUN!"
We ran.
Buildings were shaking. People screaming. Explosions. Smoke rising somewhere in the distance. The world felt like it was cracking open.
And then… it came.
A shadow bigger than houses.
A towering monster—black, horned, smiling with rows of jagged teeth. Its eyes were like pits of night. The same one Arin would one day face, but I didn't know that then.
It landed in front of us with a BOOM that cracked the street. Its tail dragged across the ground like a butcher's blade.
I couldn't breathe.
Mom screamed.
It looked at us… and grinned.
A thick, black tentacle shot out like a whip.
I blinked.
One moment Mom was holding my hand
The next, she wasn't.
Her body… was still standing, somehow.
But her head—
Her head was rolling on the ground toward us, eyes still open in frozen shock.
I couldn't scream. I didn't even understand what I was seeing.
Then it hit me.
And I screamed.
"M-MAMA!!!"
Dad grabbed me and Aarav, voice breaking as he yelled, "RUN!! DON'T LOOK BACK!! JUST RUN!!"
But I did look back. I wish I hadn't.
The demon-foot soldier from hell—was EATING her. It bit into her head like fruit. Blood dripped from its mouth.
The world became noise. Bombs. Screams. My heartbeat. My breathing. My crying.
Aarav pulled me by the wrist. "Shivani, move! Move!!"
I couldn't feel my legs. My brother dragged me.
Dad stayed. He faced the monster with a broken pipe he must've grabbed from the wreckage.
"GO! TAKE YOUR SISTER AND RUN! I'LL HOLD IT OFF!"
His voice cracked.
"Papa—Papa, no—!!!!" I sobbed.
He turned back once and smiled. Actually smiled. Even though his hands were shaking.
"Be strong, my little tigress."
And then the monster's claw swung.
It split his body in half.
Blood rained. His insides spilled like spilled toys.
Something broke in me.
Aarav dropped, vomiting. I couldn't stop crying. Every second I expected to die.
But the monster was still chewing my mother's corpse.
We ran.
Fire everywhere. People dying. I didn't know who I was or where I was going. I couldn't think. I couldn't exist.
Aarav finally pushed me behind a broken concrete wall in the ruins of a collapsed building.
"Stay here… d-don't move," he said, trying to sound brave, though his voice quivered.
He peeked around the corner.
Bad idea.
Because something else was there.
A smaller creature—wolf-like, with bone spikes sticking out of its back—was sniffing through rubble.
It turned.
Locked eyes with Aarav.
"Run—" he tried to say.
He didn't finish.
The wolf-beast lunged, slamming him onto the ground. He screamed, "DON'T LOOK, SHIVANI!!"
I looked.
I wish I didn't.
The monster tore into him—flesh, muscle, screams, blood. He looked at me while it ate him alive. Eyes wide. Terrified. Begging me to run.
But I was frozen.
His hand reached toward me… then went limp.
I don't know how long I sat there.
Covered in my brother's blood.
Hearing him scream inside my head long after his voice had stopped.
The monster eventually left.
I was alone.
I stayed there all night.
Watching the world burn.
And something inside me broke… and never truly healed.