Chapter Three

~Mel~

In a spiral of what felt like a second, everything changed.

Carmine stared at my father with so much ice in his gaze that I shivered. “Count yourself lucky as the only man to ever experience mercy by my hand.” Then, without another glance in my direction, he walked away.

My hands were yanked the moment he exited the door, and I was dragged away. There was no time for anything—no goodbyes, not that I had anything genuinely to say to Nathaniel. No time to take any of my personal belongings.

Time seemed to blur after that. The numbness took over as the car sped through the city. My heart pounded as we drove through iron gates, revealing a mansion that looked like something out of a gothic fairytale. Tall, imposing, with dark, ivy-covered walls—it was less a house and more a fortress.

My eyes widened in awe, but there was hardly any time to process just how magnificent the place was. The man who had threatened me yanked me out of the car, dragging me up the stone steps and through the grand entrance. 

The interior was just as imposing as he led me past straight to a room, then pushed me inside. I stumbled landing on my ass then turned back to tell him he was an asshole but the intensity of his hard glare made me clamp my mouth shut. 

“Death would have been a better mercy than what he will do to you.”

The weight of his words settled over me, suffocating and inescapable as the door slammed shut behind him. I was trapped, and there was no way out.

If only I knew the beginning of my nightmare was just its peak. 

Exhaustion crept over me eventually, numbing my senses. I curled up on the cold floor, the events of the day replaying in my mind. Slowly, I drifted off to sleep.

And then it began.

I was back in the old apartment, the air thick with the metallic scent of blood. Hannah lay on the floor, her body twisted at an unnatural angle, covered in crimson. I tried to move towards her, but my legs felt like lead. 

The echo of her voice filled the room, "It's your fault, Mel. You did this."

“No, no, it wasn’t my fault,” I whispered, trying to tune out the echo, but it grew louder, more insistent.

"It's your fault, Mel. You did this."

I screamed, jolting awake, my heart racing. My breath came in ragged gasps as I tried to orient myself. The room was dark, silent. But then I saw her. Hannah, covered in blood standing right in front of me, her eyes boring into mine.

“You never listen, Mel. You just fucking never listen.”

I scrambled backward, my heart pounding in my chest. “You’re not really here. I’m dreaming.”

I closed my eyes tightly, willing her away, but her annoyed voice cut through the silence, “Open your eyes. I am right here.”

I hesitated, then slowly opened my eyes. She stepped forward, blood trailing after her, “You should have let him kill you. Now you have brought me back to the place I fought so hard to run from.”

“What are you talking about?” I muttered, shaking my head violently. “This isn’t real.”

“Listen to me, Mel!” she screamed, her voice piercing through the fog of my disbelief. I snapped my head in her direction, and she suddenly felt so tangible.

So real.

My voice was a broken whisper, filled with fear, “Hannah, how… how are you here?” 

She ignored my question, glancing around the room with a look of distaste curling her lips. “You need to get out of here. If he finds out what you are, he will turn you into his weapon just like they wanted to do to me. They will all come for you.”

“What are you talking about?” I stammered, trying to make sense of her words. Then I snapped back to reality, shaking my head vigorously again. “I am going crazy. I am talking to ghosts. You are not here.”

“I am real, Melody,” she snapped, her voice sharp and urgent. “As real as I have been in your head. But just like in the past, you refused to listen. You are going to listen now. Get up and find a way out of here. He must never know.”

“Know what?” I demanded, my voice rising in panic.

“Get up and run. Run, Melody.”

My body trembled with fear and confusion. This had to be a dream, a hallucination brought on by stress. But her presence felt so real, her voice so tangible. My mind raced, struggling to piece together the fragments of her warning.

She screamed louder this time, “Run.”

“Run.”

The word pounded in my head, reverberating through my skull with a force that made me want to tear my hair out. It was suddenly too much. My brain hurt, the intensity of the moment overpowered my senses, and then it all shattered into a single memory—the moment I had stood up to Carmine Moreno.

Tears slid down my face, hot and unchecked. I clutched my head, desperate to silence the noise. “Please, stop it. Stop it.”

But her voice, her presence, only seemed to engulf me further, wrapping around me like a suffocating blanket. “They will come for you. Come for me. Come for us.”

The pressure built inside my skull, a relentless pounding that drove me to the edge. “Go away!” I screamed, my voice breaking with desperation.

Suddenly, the words burst from my mouth with a force that seemed to morph into a tangible blast of energy. Hannah was thrown back, her body slamming into the wall with a sickening thud.

I gasped, my eyes widening in shock. She looked back at me, but there was no surprise in her eyes, only a grim resignation. “It has already begun.”

And then she was gone.

I collapsed on the floor, my body shaking uncontrollably. What the hell had just happened? This couldn’t be real. Hannah was dead—then why was there a puddle of blood trailing up to the point where she had stood and splattered on the wall?

Fear, like I had never known, gripped me. My breath came in shallow gasps, and I couldn’t seem to get enough air. My mind spun with confusion and terror. 

This was beyond anything I could comprehend.

Then, as if the universe wasn’t done with its cruel joke, the door swung open.

Carmine stood at the threshold, his eyes sweeping from the blood on the floor to my tear-streaked face.

 His expression darkened, a storm brewing in his gaze, “What the hell happened here?”