ST. SERAPHINA'S HOSPITAL – PRIVATE WARD, NIGHT
The moment Lyric stepped into the hospital room, the tension in the air was almost suffocating. Lilian shot upright, her eyes wide, her bandaged arms trembling slightly. She hadn't been able to sleep, eat, or think clearly since that morning. Her thoughts had spiraled, looping endlessly around the chaos that had unfolded and the quiet rage she sensed in her cousin.
"Lyric..." she said cautiously, her voice barely above a whisper, "...what are you planning to do to them?"
Lyric leaned against the doorframe, her face expressionless, calm in a way that was too dangerous to be comforting. Her cold blue eyes flicked over Lilian, assessing her condition. Bruises. Bandages. Pain.
"They hurt you," Lyric replied in a low voice. "But since they didn't hurt me... I won't touch them."
Lilian exhaled, a bit relieved—until Lyric's next words came like a thunderclap.
"But by tomorrow morning, the entire country will be watching their sisters being raped live on the internet."
The blood drained from Lilian's face.
"What?" she breathed, her voice shaking.
Lyric's face didn't flinch. She said it so calmly, like she was announcing the weather.
"I picked four girls," she continued, walking further into the room. "Spoiled brats, just like their brothers. Bad reputations. No one will care about them. And the worst part? Everyone will watch."
Lilian was frozen in place. Then, slowly, anger began to rise within her chest like a boiling pot. Her breathing became erratic. Her hands shook. Her heart raced. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"You're insane!" she yelled suddenly, her voice breaking. "What the hell is wrong with you?"
She grabbed the bowl of fruit on the bedstand and hurled it across the room. It crashed into the wall, scattering apples and oranges across the pristine floor.
Lyric's expression barely changed, but a subtle tension crept into her eyes.
"I was bullied, yeah," Lilian shouted, standing with effort, ignoring the pain in her knee. "But you think this is justice? Raping innocent girls just because of who their brothers are?! That's not justice, that's sick! That's evil!"
"You know nothing about justice," Lyric said flatly.
"No, you know nothing about being human!" Lilian snapped, tears forming in her eyes. "You're not some avenger, Lyric. You're a monster! A serial killer!"
For a moment, the words just hung in the air like smoke.
And Lyric felt it.
She didn't know what it was exactly—shame? guilt? sadness?—but it clawed its way into her chest like a cold hand gripping her heart. Serial killer. The words echoed louder in her head than she wanted them to.
"Shut up," Lyric said sharply, her voice shaking with restrained emotion. "Lie down. You need rest. I shouldn't have come."
She turned toward the door, her boots clicking against the floor.
"Wait!" Lilian cried, hobbling after her. "I didn't mean it! I was just... upset, please stay!"
But Lyric shook her hand off coldly, walking out without another word.
She didn't leave the hospital though. Instead, she made her way to the side stairwell and found a quiet, dark corner near the emergency exit. Pulling out a cigarette, she lit it with practiced ease, inhaling deeply as the nicotine rushed through her veins.
It didn't calm her.
Nothing ever really did.
-------
LILIAN'S ROOM – MINUTES LATER
Lilian sat on the bed, her breathing ragged, her emotions raw and bleeding. Regret washed over her like a wave. She hadn't meant to call her that. She had just lost control for a moment.
She looked down at her injured knee, now throbbing from the sudden movement. Her hands trembled as she reached for her phone and dialed Lyric's number.
No answer.
"Please," she whispered. "Pick up..."
She pressed the nurse call button. A few moments later, a young woman in scrubs entered.
"Can you please find someone to help clean the room?" she asked politely, her voice cracking.
The nurse nodded and left.
Lilian tried walking back to the bed, but she hit the metal frame with her shin. Pain exploded through her leg like fire. She collapsed to the floor with a gasp, tears springing to her eyes. It was too much—everything was too much.
In desperation, she called Lyric again. This time, the line connected, but there was only silence.
"Lyric," Lilian whimpered through her tears, "I hurt my knee again... It hurts a lot. Please, can you come back?"
Still, no reply.
Then, the call ended.
Lilian sobbed harder, curling into herself. Her whole body hurt—physically, emotionally, mentally. She felt like she was crumbling, piece by piece.
Then, a voice.
Cold and distant.
"If you keep making noise, I'll leave."
She looked up through watery eyes.
Lyric stood at the door, her face unreadable.
Lilian's lips trembled as she held out her arms for a hug. For a long moment, Lyric didn't move.
But then, slowly, she stepped into the room and let Lilian wrap her arms around her waist.
Lilian clung to her like a child clings to their last hope, burying her face into her stomach, sobbing softly. Lyric's cold expression remained, but her hand moved on its own, stroking Lilian's hair gently, rhythmically.
Within minutes, Lilian's breathing slowed, her tears dried, and her soft snores filled the room. She had fallen asleep, exhausted from both pain and emotion.
Lyric carefully laid her back onto the bed, adjusted the blanket, and sat beside her. She pulled out her phone.
One message.
Change of plans.
No rape.
Send them to the Sahara Desert. No food. No water. One outfit. Make sure they're unreachable.
She hit send and locked her phone.
Her eyes lingered on Lilian's peaceful face. She didn't deserve any of this. She never did. Lyric had always tried to keep her safe from the blood and violence of her world. But maybe... she had failed her in a way.
Maybe she had let too much darkness in.
"I only listen to you because your mom died saving us," Lyric whispered. "But... I don't know why it hurt when you called me a serial killer."
Her voice faltered.
"Is that what I am to you?" she asked the sleeping girl. "Just a killer?"
There was no answer, only the sound of machines beeping softly and the ticking clock on the wall.
Lyric leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling.
For the first time in years, her heart felt... uncertain.