Doomed

Ch. From Doomed 8 From Doomed 8

Chapter 8

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Third–Person POV

Keith tried to scream for help, but someone knocked him out and threw him into the back of a cargo truck. The doors were locked. His head was swimming, and his body felt like it had been drugged.

“Sasha! Let me out! Where are you taking me? You can’t do this!”

But Sasha locked the doors herself. She looked at the desperation in Keith’s eyes and said only one thing, quietly, to no one but herself.

“Mom, I’ve settled your debt.”

Rory’s POV

Three years later, I graduated from the top university in Sudeval and came home.

During those three years, on top of my regular coursework, I’d picked up a second major in economics. I kept pushing through every break and every holiday. I was terrified of stopping, because every time I slowed down, the image of Mom’s face right before she died would flood back in.

Uncle Finn felt for me. He brought me into his company and walked me through the business from the ground up. After more than a dozen major deals, I could hold my own.

This time, I was coming back for one reason. Mom had left me Dad’s company, and I was going to take it back.

The house looked exactly the way I remembered, down to every piece of furniture, as if the last three years hadn’t happened. The only difference was a framed portrait of Mom in the living room, with flowers and a

candle set beside it.

My bedroom was spotless. But every gift Sasha had ever given me was gone.

I figured she must have been coming back to clean the place, maybe every day, all this time. I sat down in the living room and waited for her.

At 9:30 pm, Sasha walked through the front door the way she apparently always did, calling out on reflex, “Rory, I’m home.”

She saw me on the couch and smiled, calm and easy. “You’re being so good today. You used to throw a fit the second I got back, demanding a new game. Look, I brought you one. But dinner first, okay?”

I frowned.

I’d stopped caring about things like games three years ago, and in the years since, I’d barely even touched a computer. Why would she think I still wanted one?

Without waiting for an answer, Sasha kicked off her shoes, washed her hands, and started cooking. When the food was ready, she set the table for two. I sat across from her, and she fixed my plate before touching her own, quiet and gentle in a way that didn’t suit her.

Time had worn something out of her. The girl who used to be fearless and sharp–edged, who answered to no

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Chapte 8

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one, was gone. What was left was an eerie kind of stillness.

After dinner, she cleared the dishes with practiced ease, and the word that came to mind was stagnant.

That was exactly what she was–stagnant water, no spark, no life.

I sat on the couch without moving. Sasha came over with a slice of birthday cake and held it up to me.

“Rory, have some cake.”

I pressed my lips together and didn’t open my mouth.

Something in her face dimmed. “Today’s my birthday.”

I paused and counted the days. She was right.

When I still didn’t react, she started eating the cake herself, one big bite after another. I thought she’d stop after the slice, but she kept going, grabbing piece after piece and forcing them down like she was punishing herself.

Sure enough, after the last mouthful of frosting, she crouched beside the trash can and threw up violently.

My chest tightened. I went to the drawer and brought her some pain medication. Sasha took the glass of warm water I handed her, and her hands were shaking so badly that she almost dropped it.

“Rory, you’re… you’re being strange today. Normally you’d just yell at me to get out.”

I said nothing.

A grim, self–mocking smile pulled at her lips. “These past three years, you’ve hated me every single day. You found a new way to make my life miserable every morning.

“One day it’s no vegetables. The next day the bathwater’s too hot. The day after that you’re taking off to visit your hometown out of nowhere. I’ve been running after you, and I could barely keep up.”