Chapter 32 - 29: Fight Or Die
Mira clutched her knees to her chest, hidden away in the small, cramped space beneath her bed. Ellen had told her to hide, to lock the door and not to come out. She obeyed, squeezing herself into the shadows, pressing her hands against her ears. But it did nothing to silence the horrors unfolding outside her door.
The music was the first thing she noticed. It drifted through the air, elegant and haunting, each note laced with malice. Then came the sound of Ellen fighting—heavy impacts, sharp crashes, and the sickening crack of walls giving way. And then—Ellen's screams.
Mira trembled. She had never heard Ellen scream like that before. Every cry of pain sent a dagger through her chest, suffocating her in helplessness. Her fingers dug into her arms, nails biting into her skin as she rocked slightly, trying to drown out the noises.
But then something changed.
A sharp, searing pain tore through her mind, and suddenly—she was Ellen. She felt every bruise, every fracture. The world spun as if she were the one staggering from the relentless attacks. Her chest heaved, her body barely able to hold itself together. Mira gasped, clutching her head, struggling to separate herself from what she was experiencing.
And then came the final blow. A deafening explosion. Ellen's body hurtled through the air. Mira felt it all—every fracture, every nerve screaming in agony. And then—nothing. The connection between them dulled, flickering like a dying ember.
No.
Mira's breath hitched, her instincts roaring to life. Ellen. She had to get to Ellen.
Everything else ceased to matter. The fear, the danger—it all vanished in the face of one truth: Ellen was slipping away. Before she even realized it, her legs were moving, her body tearing through the hall in a blur. She flung the door open, racing past the wreckage, ignoring the way her feet barely touched the ground. Her mind was screaming at her to hurry.
She skidded to a stop outside, her eyes widening in horror at the sight before her.
The Twin Marionettes stood over Ellen's limp body, their porcelain forms poised in eerie synchronization, hands delicately interwoven. A grotesque parody of a bow.