Melissa parked with deliberate care, stealing a glance at her son before stepping out. Ryan hesitated, then followed. She led him down a feeder road toward the river, where grass clawed at the asphalt and sticks lay scattered like bones. She walked quickly, never looking back.
A soft, rushing sound—like the whisper of a crowd—hissed through the reeds. Melissa froze.
"It isn't your fault, you know?" she said, her back still turned.
"Mom, what are you talking about? I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to write it, I didn't mean to cause..... "
"Don't apologize," she snapped, her voice cracking as she pulled him into a desperate hug. Her eyes stayed locked on a white, blood‑stained dress waving back and forth on a dead branch. It waved in the wind like a tattered banner, mocking, taunting her.
"I know…"
For a moment, Ryan felt her heartbeat against his chest. Her cool breathe dancing around his ear, her hair locks clamped to his neck, the heavy silence felt awkward, but made him feel safe, a smile slowly creeped to his face.
The sudden blackening of the skies made Melissa, grab Ryan and head for the car. Ryan slipped on the drenched ground; mud and broken twigs clung to his shoes like glue, but Mom's firm hand couldn't risk letting him go. The rain felt like bullets, thousands of them being hauled from the sky. The sky grumbled deafeningly, dyed in pitch black, with none of the twinkling stars visible. The trees wailed as the wind clashed into them, branches cracking, the yellowish rusty leaves dancing in the wind, unaware of the fuss on the ground below.
Melissa gently pushed her drenched son into the car, quickly made her way around, and ignited the engine, praying softly that all was well at home. As she navigated through the dusty road, pulling up and out of potholes, glimpses of a much more similar night made it into her head.
Then the heavens collapsed. Rain hammered the roof like bullets. Above them, the sky grumbled in pitch‑black silence, swallowing the stars. The trees wailed as the wind lashed them, their yellowed leaves dancing toward a death they didn't understand.
Melissa gripped the wheel, knuckles white.
"Drive carefully, Melissa—she's heavy, this one," Robert had chuckled once, tapping Allison's shoulder.
"It's raining so hard," Melissa had replied. "A long night for a PTA meeting."
"Says the woman who wouldn't let any other parent speak," Keren had teased, her hand caressing Allison's belly.
The memory hit her like a rock hardening her lips for a moment—until thunder cracked, snapping her back.
"Mom, are you okay?" Ryan asked, his voice small.
"What? Yes. I'm fine, my boy. Nothing to worry about."
Ryan brushed a tear from her cheek.
Melissa gave a shaky smile. "Oh… must be the rain," she whispered.
A warm hand patted Ryan's shoulder. He spun toward his mother, but she was focused entirely on the road, her face a mask of concentration. He shivered, brushing it off as another hallucination.
He sighed, fogging the window, tracing shapes in the mist. For a moment, it was just a boy distracting himself from the storm.
Then the letters bled red, reshaping into a single word: ALLISON.
"Mom, look out!"
In the center of the road sat a pale girl in a blood‑soaked dress, cradling a bundle in her arms. Melissa slammed the brakes. The car spun through the mud and smashed into a tree. Smoke clawed from beneath the hood. Melissa gasped for air, reaching for her son. Ryan was silent.
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