Karl scratched her hands as he tried to pull her fingers off his neck.
His nails dug into her skin… yet she didn't flinch.
She didn't retreat.
Her breathing didn't change.
Her face came close, their breaths colliding.
He saw his reflection in her eyes… and he was alone there.
No pain.
No reaction.
It was as if the sensation that makes the body scream… had been extinguished.
Her fingers tightened around his neck, not with cruelty, but with cold firmness.
In that moment, he understood: Maia hadn't lost her mind, she had lost the ability to feel pain.
He pushed her away before he blacked out, then stumbled toward the door, panting, his steps heavy.
He cast one last glance at her.
She stood as she was, her eyes empty… neither searching for him nor chasing him.
He opened his mouth to call—
"Maia…"
—but the name died in his throat.
He wanted to move closer, to grab her shoulders, to shake her until she came back,
but the thought of touching her again, of her no longer feeling pain…
froze him in place.
He turned and opened the door slowly, every step heavy on his heart.
With each step, his regret grew.
Regret for what he had left behind, for what he still didn't understand.
He didn't yet know that everything, all the evil, had begun the moment she found the stone.
Karl didn't feel any relief until he found himself in front of the doctor's house.
Every breath hurt him more, yet he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
"Mr. Max? Are you here?"
His voice came out rough, as if he hadn't used it in days.
Sunlight reflected inside, revealing what had been hidden in the shadows.
His eyes widened, a numbness spread through his legs as he caught sight of the blood.
—
"Oh… Karl,welcome in" said Mr. Max, calm and collected, a faint smile on his lips.
Karl's eyes widened. On the bed lay a woman, her body covered in deep, raw wounds—yet she did not move a muscle. Her eyes were cold, distant, and her dark hair fell messily around her face. It didn't seem like she felt any pain.
The knife slipped from Mr. Max's hand, clattering to the floor.
His legs trembled.
Move… move… he repeated in his head, trying to shake off the paralysis gripping every muscle.
Finally, he found the strength to flee.
He bolted out of the village, his steps uneven; every person he passed seemed to watch him with threat in their eyes.
The sounds, the whispers, the shadows of the houses… everything pressed down on him, heightening his sense of danger.
After a few minutes, he reached a massive tree, its hollow mouth like an opening to another world.
He crept inside cautiously, hiding in the shadows he had known since childhood—the place he had shared with Maya… the only refuge where he could feel even a little safe.
He needed to leave. To go back to the village. But his body wouldn't move. Every time he thought of opening the hollow of the tree, he saw Maia's empty eyes. He saw the doctor's knife hitting the floor. So he stayed where he was, watching the sunlight crawl across the roots, shrinking—inch by inch—until it vanished completely, leaving him in the dark."
Karl collapsed to his knees without feeling it. The ground should have hurt—rocks, roots, the cold hardness of earth. But his body had stopped sending messages. Or his mind had stopped receiving them.
Before him, the shadows of grass and flowers danced in the moonlight—calm, beautiful, as if nothing had happened.
His fingers touched his neck involuntarily. The scene returned: her hands around his throat, her empty eyes, her terrifying silence.
He heard nothing but his own gasps. They escaped his throat as if trying to flee his entire body.
---
Time passed. Or didn't pass. He couldn't tell.
Then he felt the breeze on his face. Cold. Calm. It brought back something of his awareness.
He looked around, recognizing the place. The hideout. Their old tree.
And now? Maia was there. Mr. Max was there. And he was here alone.
"I have to go back."
He said it in a faint voice. But his feet refused to obey.
He pulled his knees to his chest. Breathed. A long inhale. A slow exhale.
He tried to think.
Maia... she burned herself. She said she wanted to feel pain.
Pain is what makes us alive.
He flinched. The voice was in his head, but it belonged to someone real. Mr. Leonard. The old man who lived at the edge of the forest, the one everyone called strange because he talked to himself and gathered herbs at dawn. Karl used to see him every morning on the way to fetch water. Leonard would smile and say something that didn't make sense—until now.
Pain is what makes us alive.
He raised his head slowly. Looked toward the village.
"I'll go to him."
He pushed himself up. His legs shook. His chest ached. But he stood.
One step. Then another.
The forest swallowed him.
Behind him, the village waited in silence.
And somewhere in that silence, Maia sat alone, her burnt hand resting in her lap, waiting for something Karl couldn't name.
Karl headed east.
The sound of water gurgling invaded his ears.
He got closer.
A brick house rose before him.
His feet got wet, and he remembered when he was little, coming to this place to spy on Mr. Leonard with his friends and Maya.
He clenched his hands.
He stood before the door. A strange smell...
His eyes widened.
He felt the coldness of the handle in his hands, gathered all his strength, then pushed the door open.
The lantern lit the room, showing him the scene ahead. Scattered books and papers painted chaos across the room, so he walked over broken furniture and wood strewn here and there.
The groan of the wooden floor felt cold against his heart.
He quietly passed the hallway, then headed to the second floor.
There, the smell was stronger. But he didn't focus on it; instead, he focused on something else... something that filled his thoughts.
An old metal armchair, it was wet.
Someone had rested on it.
A fabric bag covered the face, but the distinctive build told Carl who that person was.
Leonard, he thought.
His body was tied to the chair, numerous wounds piercing his body. Some were still moist with blood, while others had blood dried on them.
Three fingers missing.
"His heart pounded uncontrollably, every nerve in his body screaming as if some unseen darkness pressed closer, and even the air around him seemed to whisper a warning of what he was about to uncover."
Karl cautiously stepped forward. He pulled off the cover, then fell back in shock.
Mr. Leonard's face looked completely chaotic. karl saw a black void staring back at him. His mouth was empty, and his nose seemed to have disappeared.
As for the mole that was under his eye, it was the only thing karl recognized, the only thing that hadn't changed since the last time he saw him.
The sound of dripping blood shot a wave of nausea through Carl, but the shock fixed his gaze on the scene before him.
Karl stared at the ropes. They were tight. Deliberate. Someone had taken their time here. Someone had wanted Leonard to stay.