I smiled like I always did, nodded like I always did, and brought the rim of the cup to my lips like I always did… but instead of swallowing, I let the liquid rest at the tip of my tongue.
Bitter.
Metallic.
Nothing like valerian.
—Drink it slowly —Daniel said, leaning against the doorframe, wearing that calm expression that lately had begun to terrify me—. It will help you.
I performed the entire act: a few fake sips, a sigh, eyelids pretending to grow heavy. Then, when he briefly glanced toward the hallway, I carefully tilted the cup and poured the tea into the dry flower pot in the corner behind the curtain.
—Good night, Dani —I whispered, pulling my voice slightly.
He smiled.
—Good night, sister.
I heard his footsteps walking away.
Slow.
Unhurried.
As if he knew exactly what time everything was supposed to happen.
I waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Fifteen.
I stayed completely still, controlling my breathing, until the silence began to feel “safe”… though in that house nothing was ever truly safe—only disguised as such.
Exactly at nine o’clock, as if the clock itself were an accomplice, I heard the first creak in the hallway.
Then another.
Footsteps.
Daniel was coming.
I lay sideways on the bed, just like always. I let one arm hang slightly off the mattress, like someone asleep. I opened my eyes
just a sliver.
My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
The door opened without being pushed. Daniel had left it slightly ajar earlier and now slipped inside.
He wasn’t carrying the cup.
He was carrying a key.
An old, long black key with strange teeth—the kind meant for very old houses… or for doors that were never meant to open.
He walked to the bedside table, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out something wrapped in cloth. Slowly he unwrapped it.
A small glass bottle.
Inside were white tablets.
My throat went dry.
“Just valerian.”
I watched him place the bottle back, as if hiding a secret in his pocket. Then he walked over to the bed and leaned down, studying my face.
I held my breath.
Daniel reached for my wrist, searching for a pulse.
One.
Two.
Three seconds.
Continued on next page:
ADVERTISEMENT
