In the hushed stillness of the cemetery, Samantha whispered softly to the gravestones before her, her voice barely above a murmur. "Hey, mom, dad. It’s been a while," she began, her breath hitching as she leaned down to place a bouquet of tulips, a feeble offering to the memory of her estranged parents.

As she traced the letters of their names etched in stone, Samantha's fingers brushed away the accumulated dust, revealing the cold permanence of their absence. "Daniel Brown, Josefina Brown," she recited, her eyes flickering to the identification card hanging from her white coat. "Samantha Shane Andersen," she added with a bitter laugh. "Twenty years later, and I still can’t comprehend how you could despise your own flesh and blood."

A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she gestured to her ID. "Look at me now, mom, dad. I'm a licensed psychiatrist," she choked out between soft sobs. "I have the career you always wanted for me. I even have my own office, soon to be filled with comforts reminiscent of home."

Her lips tightened into a thin line as she continued, her voice tinged with a mix of longing and resentment. "Am I worthy of your love now?" The wind seemed to echo her sorrow, brushing against her back with a haunting tenderness. Samantha, ever the solitary figure, concealed her loneliness behind a facade of icy detachment, even from her closest confidant.

But then, with a resigned shake of her head, she dismissed the notion. "Forget it," she murmured bitterly. "You're not here to witness my achievements anyway. You probably wouldn't even acknowledge them, even if you were."

Her voice fell to a whisper as her gaze drifted to the scars on her wrists, lingering remnants of the abuse she had endured at the hands of her parents, who blamed her for the disappearance of her twin sister.

Agatha Shye Brown was the epitome of perfection—a daughter any couple would be proud to call their own. With her striking beauty, intelligence, kindness, talents, and impeccable sense of responsibility, she embodied every desirable trait imaginable.

On the flip side of the coin was Samantha Shane Brown, whose surname had been changed to Andersen by her own parents following Agatha's disappearance. Despite being twins, Samantha paled in comparison to her sister. She felt inadequate, constantly reminded by her parents of her supposed shortcomings—lacking in intelligence, attractiveness, and talent. Despite her efforts to bridge the gap, she could never measure up to Agatha's standard. Though she managed to complete college with the support of her friends, her parents were tragically killed in a car accident on the day of her graduation, robbing her of the chance to prove herself to them.

With a thin smile, Samantha turned on her heels towards her car, where a black motorcycle was parked behind it. The helmeted rider removed his headgear, revealing the slightly maddened expression of her boyfriend, Scott.

"You left me again!" he exclaimed, his lips twitching in dismay.

"No, I didn't," Samantha replied in a monotone. "I made it clear for you to be in my office at exactly 4 PM or forget it. Have I not been clear enough?"

She attempted to enter her car without further explanation, but Scott caught her arm just in time.

"Why are you always so mean?" he queried.

Samantha arched a brow, assessing him with a cool gaze. "We're only two months into this relationship, Scott. Don't expect to have me all figured out yet."

"Don't 'Scott' me, missy!" Scott retorted, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "It should be 'babe'. And may I remind you, miss Andersen, we've been dating for six months. SIX. SOLID. MONTHS!" he emphasized.

Caught off guard by his playful demeanor, Samantha couldn't help but smile inwardly. She closed her eyes briefly to collect herself before letting out an exasperated sigh.

"I'm sorry. I-I'm just really tired from work," she admitted.

"I know," Scott said softly, enveloping her in a hug. "Just let me know if you need help. I'll be there for you."

Samantha looked up at her boyfriend's earnest expression. "Really?" she asked, her smile widening.

"Of course," Scott replied, returning her smile. "Anything for you, babe."

"Anything, huh?" Samantha's grin turned mischievous, causing Scott to blink in realization.

"You're not going to make me analyze your patients' problems, are you? Because, you know, I'm a chef," he joked, earning a chuckle from Samantha.

"You're so damn judgmental!" Samantha's lips pressed into a thin line. "I was just imagining you cooking my favorite foods."

"Hahaha, I know... I know!"

They made their way to Samantha's house, and shortly after their arrival, Kathleen, Samantha's best friend, called to ask if she and her boyfriend could come to visit. Samantha agreed, and Scott also invited some of their mutual friends to join in.

As they settled on the couch near the balcony, waiting for their guests to arrive, the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the landscape. The full moon rose in the sky, illuminating the evening with its gentle light. Samantha wrapped her arms around Scott's waist and rested her head on his shoulder.

"Babe?" Scott's breath tickled Samantha's wavy hair.

"Yeah?" she murmured.

"Don't you have any plans to sell this house?" Scott's question caused a muscle in Samantha's jaw to tighten, prompting him to lean back slightly.

"Why would I?" Samantha replied, her tone guarded.

"I-I mean... it's getting pretty old, and don't you want to start a new life somewhere?" Scott whispered, his gaze drifting from her to the fiery sky. "You know... with me."

Samantha hesitated. "You know I can't leave this place, babe."

"But why?" Scott's voice rose, catching Samantha off guard. She pulled away from him, a flicker of hurt crossing her features.

"I-I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean to," Scott stammered.

Samantha gave him a bitter smile and looked away. "I thought I made it clear."

"I know, but I just can't seem to understand. I'm your boyfriend, Sam. You know you can tell me everything. Asking for help sometimes doesn’t hurt."

"I wanted to tell you everything, I really did. But now's not the right time. Eventually, you'll find out why," Samantha's voice softened with each word, and Scott's shoulders slumped in defeat.

"Yeah, whatever, babe! I'll just wait for that time then. Just come back here," he said, pulling her into a tight hug.

"I love you so much, even if sometimes I really can't understand you," he chuckled.

"Is that even a good thing?" Samantha teased.

"Hmm..." Scott paused, tapping his chin as if in deep thought.

"Whatever, Scottttttt," Samantha replied, playfully pushing him down on the couch and attempting to tickle him, but he skillfully blocked all her attacks.

"Oh, woah! So, this is what you want, eh?" Samantha gasped as he suddenly grabbed her hand and forcefully switched their positions, pinning her down with his weight on her thighs, rendering her immobile to his next moves.

"How dare you do this to your girlfriend?" she shrieked, attempting to free herself from his grasp, but to no avail. She felt like David trying to take down Goliath.

"Oh, ho ho!" he taunted. "Don’t be such a crybaby and accept your defeat, my little princess! Samantha, 2. Scott, 5!"

"Mine's 3, you jerk!" she corrected sarcastically. "So, you want it the hard way?"

"Dare me!" he grinned. Samantha stared at him for a moment, closed her eyes, and then slowly opened them with the sweetest smile.

"This David will never lose," she thought to herself. Suddenly, Scott's expression darkened in horror.

"Don't use that on me. That's technically cheating!"

"What are you talking about, babe?" she moved closer, her breath brushing against his neck. Scott raised his hands in defeat.

"I told you, mine’s three ahahahha!" Samantha chortled, leaving him with squinted eyes. "Who told you, you already won?"

But before Scott could respond, he grinned and roughly pinned both of her hands above her head.

"Hey!" Samantha protested, struggling against his grip, but he was too strong.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she groaned.

"Doing it the hard way?" he teased.

"Uhhh––hell no!"

They froze in place, their attention turning to the pale figure standing in the corner beside a man.

"Ah... s-should we just leave?" Christian stuttered, fidgeting beside his girlfriend. "Y-You shouldn’t have left the door o-open, goddamnit!"

"Oh!" Samantha quickly pushed Scott away and innocently stood up.

"T-That was nothing! We were only fighting. You know––forget everything!" she exclaimed, her voice almost a shout, sounding somewhat eccentric.

"Hmm... Sure," Kathleen's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

Samantha sheepishly turned towards Scott, who was trying to suppress his laughter.

"HA HA! Get up, lad!" Samantha's mouth formed a grim line. "You still have to cook us dinner."

"We! We will cook us dinner," Scott corrected. "This is your home, lass, and I’m a visitor. You should be the one preparing—" he paused when Samantha shot him a glare.

"Perhaps, it would be very sweet of me if I do it, so I will," he concluded, causing Christian and Kathleen to laugh.

"You look really terrified of this small bean, huh?" Scott's eyes crinkled with amusement, but he didn't smile as he looked at Christian blandly.

"That's how things should be, or else I'm done for. C’mon!"

They headed towards the kitchen, both skilled chefs in their own right. Meanwhile, the others arrived: Kaiser, Kim, and her boyfriend, Junel; Scott's closest cousin.

"So, tell us," Kim suddenly sounded nosy as she sat beside Samantha. "Did something happen between the two of you already?"

"God, Kim! Why do you have to blurt it out like that?" Samantha's face flushed. "We’re not that kind of couple; you know that."

"What’s so wrong about that? You two are already of the right age anyway," Kathleen chimed in, making herself comfortable on the other side of the couch where Sam and Kim were seated.

"I cannot argue with that nor can I complain," Samantha said with a bitter laugh. "Scott is a man and he has his needs, but I can’t compromise my beliefs in a relationship I'm not even sure will last."

Truly, Samantha grew up in an extremely conservative family, and having an intimate relationship outside of marriage would likely be discouraged by her family. She's just thankful Scott understood her principles. Besides, he already has a seven-year-old daughter with one of his former girlfriends. She thought he doesn't need a child from her anymore.

“Dinner’s ready, you piece of shits!” Junel called out from the kitchen.

“Call us that again and you'll sleep outside when we get home,” Kim warned, their banter followed by laughter from their direction.

Kim and Junel had been living together for years now with their seven-month-old daughter, as had Kathleen and Christian, though they still didn't have any plans of having a child yet. Kaiser, on the other hand, also had a girlfriend, but she wasn't too close to the group and rarely joined them.

They went to the kitchen to have dinner and then returned to the dining room to watch movies and have fun drinking. Everything was fun and games until Kathleen started talking.

“How about...” Kathleen's eyes squinted as she raised a glassful of Spider’s Kiss. “We play a game.”

“Game, like what?” Junel asked.

“Spin the bottle?” Kim suggested, eyeing the drink in Kathleen’s glass.

“Stop being old school, Kim!” Kathleen chuckled.

Samantha sighed, not interested in what Kathleen was proposing. She rested her head on Scott’s chest, closed her eyes, and felt his warm embrace—her home and downfall at the same time.

“Do you want to go to bed now?” Scott's dandelion eyes met hers.

“Hmm...” she shook her head as she absentmindedly rubbed the ruby necklace her mom gave her when she was three. “I have work tomorrow, so I want to have quality time with you tonight.”

He smiled and gave her a light kiss on her forehead. “We have all the time,” he whispered. “But I know you're tired. You need rest."

Samantha was about to speak when Kathleen cut her off.

“What about storytelling?” Kathleen suggested. "Starting with you, Shane. Just how much have you been keeping from me?"

Kathleen’s words caught Samantha's attention, making her look at Kathleen inquisitively. Although feeling uncomfortable, Samantha smiled and shook her head.

“Nothing much,” she muttered. “As a matter of fact, I am not hiding anything worth knowing.”

She observed their curious gazes, her shoulders rising as she noticed their intense curiosity.

“About what happened years ago––"

“Hey!” Scott interjected, signaling Kaiser to stop. “Don't go there.”

“Oh! C'mon, Shane!” Kathleen exclaimed. “We've been best friends for ten years. Why can't you bring yourself to tell me?!”

Samantha stayed silent as Kathleen's voice echoed through the dark and old corridor of her spacious house. Everyone knew a page of Samantha's past, and it was indeed a nightmare, but she couldn't understand why time couldn't erase those memories from their minds.

The ticking of the cuckoo clock near the entrance and their heavy breaths overpowered the movie’s intense noises. Samantha’s consciousness churned as she shot her best friend a glare.

“What are you trying to say?” Samantha maintained a calm demeanor. “That you don’t trust me despite us being best friends?” Kathleen nudged her chest. “Don't you have any idea how that hurts me to see you suffering alone? I couldn't do anything because I don't know anything!”

Samantha's lips formed a bitter line. “It’s not that I wouldn't tell you or any of you,” her eyes dropped to the creaking floor. “It's just that I couldn't.”

As she raised her head, scenes flashed in her mind—things she had been trying to forget all this time. Samantha’s breath became shallow. She wanted to do more to defend herself from her friends’ curiosity and protect them from that curiosity. Her lips tightened with resolve. She had to warn them before it’s too late.

“The heart that has been composed of broken hopes and empty promises will make you all live the life she has if you wish to unfold the truth behind the past."

[Samantha Shane Andersen]

Kathleen slammed the car door with a ferocity that made Christian wince. "Best friend for ten years, my ass!" she hissed, crossing her arms and seething with barely contained rage.

Christian followed her into the car, his frustration evident as he settled into the driver's seat. "Why did you storm out?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm, but the disbelief in Kathleen's eyes cut through him like a knife.

"And you're taking her side?" she spat, her voice trembling with anger.

"This isn't about sides," he sighed, trying to placate her. "I'll always take your side no matter what, but this is about respect and boundaries. Samantha's still haunted by her past. Give her time. She'll open up when she's ready."

Kathleen's fury only grew. "Ten years isn't enough time? And obviously, you are taking her side."

"I'm not!" Christian protested, rolling his eyes. "You're her best friend. You're supposed to understand. She has every right to keep her secrets."

Kathleen scoffed. "Yeah, whatever you say, Mr. Jones," her mockery did little to lighten the tension.

"You're not going back in?"

Kathleen shook his head, glancing back at Samantha's old, decrepit house.

"Let's call it a night," she said, signaling Christine to start the car.

The house loomed ominously, a testament to the tragic history everyone in town whispered about—the unexplainable disappearance of Samantha's twin sister, Agatha.

Rumors swirled about a curse placed on their mother by a vengeful ex-lover, a curse that would claim one of her children at a said time. Some said Agatha was abducted and murdered; others whispered about a sleep demon. Samantha denied everything, claiming Agatha was only living abroad with their relatives for financial support.

Kathleen never believed her. The family was wealthy; why would Agatha need to be sent away?

Kathleen's frustration simmered. She couldn't shake the compulsion to uncover Samantha's secrets, despite Christian's pleas for patience. Her desire to dig into Samantha's past burned with an intensity she couldn't understand.

That night, after arriving home in stony silence, Kathleen went to bed. Around 3 AM, an eerie feeling jolted her awake. The window was open. As she moved to close it, a tingling sensation crawled up her nape, her hairs standing on end. A shadowy figure stood outside, sending her heart into a frenzied beat. Christian was nowhere to be seen.

A lump formed in her throat. She wanted to run, to scream, but fear rooted her in place. The figure drew closer, revealing a grotesque, blood-covered face. Kathleen screamed and bolted downstairs, only to be confronted by a little girl with a sinister smile and a filthy doll, her eyes bleeding.

Kathleen's terror intensified as the girl began to hum a chilling lullaby:

"Hmmm...

tili-tili bom...

zakroy glaza skoreye.

Kto-to khodit za oknom...

i stuchitsya v dveri."

The blood in the girl's eyes trickled down her cheeks. Kathleen's legs trembled as she tried to back away, but her body refused to obey. The girl’s humming grew louder:

"Tili-tili bom...

krichit nochnaya ptitsa.

On uzhe probraisya v dom.

K tem, komu ne spitsya."

The girl's smile faded into a blank stare. "Come with me, Sam..." she began, but her words were cut off as a pair of hands, dripping with black, greasy liquid, pulled her into the floor, leaving only the creepy doll behind.

Kathleen's vision blurred. Just before she passed out, she felt an arm around her waist. She woke with a gasp, seeing Christian sleeping soundly beside her. It had been a nightmare, but the terror felt real. The girl's last words echoed in her mind:

"Come with me, Sam..."

Was she referring to Shane?

Disoriented, Kathleen got ready for work, her mind replaying the nightmare's vivid details. She ran late, ignoring Christian's offer of breakfast. Her thoughts were consumed by the dream and its possible meanings, but decided to shrug it off as she has so much to do.

At the coffee shop she co-owned with Samantha, Kathleen noticed a woman lingering outside. Although her appearance was unremarkable, there was an unsettling intensity in her gaze that aroused Kathleen's suspicion.

Ignoring her unease, Kathleen rushed inside to ensure everything was running smoothly. Her mind still reeled from the nightmare as she headed to her real job and workplace.

Kathleen Anne Abad, a supervisor and interviewer at the largest BPO company in the Philippines, was expected to be at her workplace before 9 AM. Yet here she was, sprinting toward the elevator, nine minutes late. As she rushed through the office, her co-workers greeted her, and she offered hurried nods in return. Just as she was about to open her office door, she saw Samantha talking to one of her trainees, Jay.

She had no idea why Samantha had paid her a visit; perhaps she wanted to make amends. Kathleen shared that desire, but her demanding schedule didn't allow for it. With a pang of regret, she hurried inside, slipping out of Samantha's sight.

Throughout the day, Kathleen's thoughts kept returning to the dream and amantha's appearance at her workplace added to her anxiety. She tried to focus on her tasks, but the girl's haunting lullaby echoed in her mind.

"Hmmm... tili-tili bom... Zakroy glaza skoreye!"

"Ugh! Stop!" Kathleen whispered, clutching her head. The chilling melody seemed to grow louder, a relentless reminder of the nightmare that felt all too real.

As the day dragged on, Kathleen's unease only grew. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. Every shadow seemed to hide a lurking presence, every creak and whisper in the office setting her nerves on edge. She tried to drown herself in work, but the ominous hum of the lullaby was a constant, tormenting backdrop.

By the time she got home, the sky had darkened, and a storm was brewing. She hurried inside, drenched from the sudden downpour despite riding a car, her mind a chaotic whirl of anxiety and exhaustion. Christian greeted her with a worried expression, but she brushed off his concerns, too drained to explain the relentless nightmare that haunted her waking hours.

She skipped dinner, opting for a hot shower to wash away the chill that seemed to have settled into her bones. As the water cascaded over her, she tried to push the nightmare from her mind, but the image of the bleeding-eyed girl and the haunting lullaby refused to leave her.

After a restless sleep filled with unsettling dreams, Kathleen woke again in the middle of the night. The window was open once more, the curtains fluttering in the cold breeze. Heart pounding, she rose from bed, her steps hesitant and fear-laden. As she approached the window, the same tingling sensation crawled up her neck.

This time, the shadow outside the window was unmistakable. The grotesque face from her nightmare stared back at her, its eyes glinting with a malevolent hunger. She screamed, stumbling back, only to find herself cornered by the same little girl from her dream, her doll clutched tightly in her hands.

The girl began to hum again, her voice an eerie, melodic whisper:

"Hmmm... tili-tili bom...

Zakroy glaza skoreye.

Kto-to khodit za oknom...

i stuchitsya v dveri."

Kathleen's knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The girl's eyes bled as she stepped closer, the doll's lifeless eyes staring straight at Kathleen. The melody grew louder, more insistent, as the girl reached out a hand.

"Come with me, Sam..." she whispered, her voice echoing in the room.

Just then, the grotesque figure burst through the window, its gnarled hands reaching for Kathleen. She scrambled backwards, but there was nowhere to go. The creature's touch was cold and slimy, and Kathleen felt her strength ebb away as it pulled her towards the window.

Suddenly, Christian was there, pulling her back with a force she didn't know he possessed. He shouted something, but the words were lost in the roar of the storm and the girl's haunting song. He wrestled with the creature, his face a mask of determination and fear.

Kathleen's vision swam as the room seemed to warp and twist around her. The last thing she saw was the girl's malevolent smile, her blood-red eyes boring into her soul.

She woke up in bed, drenched in sweat, Christian's arms wrapped protectively around her. The storm had passed, leaving the night eerily silent. She glanced at the window, now firmly closed, and felt a shiver run down her spine.

"Was that all just a dream?" she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. "No... that was a nightmare."

She pressed her lips together, disassociating for hours as she tried to make sense of the night's events. The girl's last words echoed in her mind, a chilling reminder that the terror was far from over.

Kathleen went through the motions of her morning routine in a daze, her mind replaying the nightmare's vivid details. She barely registered Christian's concerned questions, her focus consumed by the haunting melody and the terrifying visions that felt all too real.

At the coffee shop, she saw the suspicious woman again, her presence a disturbing echo of her nightmare. Kathleen shook off the unease, trying to focus on her responsibilities, but the fear gnawed at her, relentless and consuming.

The rest of the day was a blur of anxious thoughts and unsettling visions. Kathleen's every step felt watched, every shadow a potential threat. She couldn't shake the feeling that something dark and sinister was following her, waiting for the right moment to strike.

"This," she whispered to herself, "this might be what Samantha is warning us all about."

As the evening drew to a close, Kathleen's nerves were frayed to the breaking point. She knew she needed to confront Samantha, to find out the truth behind the nightmare that refused to let her go.

But as she steeled herself for the conversation, the haunting lullaby began to echo in her mind once more, its eerie melody a chilling reminder that the terror was far from over.

[Kathleen Anne Abad]

 "After she left, I started hearing this voice inside my head, doctor! I-I know you told me not to listen to them, but it’s so hard. What should I do now?"

 Samantha hummed thoughtfully as she jotted down key points from her patient's account. Setting her pen aside, she regarded him with a calm, professional demeanor. “Last time you were here, Mr. Rito, you spoke about your friend Bryan, who lives under your bed. Do you remember?”

 The young boy nodded cautiously.

 “And then there’s your girlfriend, Dessa, who resides inside the mirror in your room,” she continued. He nodded again. “And the mysterious tall man who appears suddenly, anytime and anywhere?”

 He looked at her unsteadily, his eyes darting around the room. Samantha took a deep breath and glanced at the boy’s mother, who was staring at her son with a mix of disbelief and distress. It was her first time accompanying him to the clinic, and the revelation was clearly overwhelming.

 “I have conducted extensive tests on your son, Mrs. Lopez, and the results indicate that he is suffering from schizophrenia. This is a chronic and severe mental disorder that affects how a person thinks, manages emotions, makes decisions, and perceives reality.”

 Mrs. Lopez’s eyes filled with tears. “So, those friends he was talking about are just his delusions all this time?” Her voice broke, and Samantha nodded sympathetically.

 Biting her lip, Mrs. Lopez looked down in frustration. “H-His father actually suffered from the same illness, which ultimately led to his d-death.”

 Samantha pressed her lips together, having anticipated this possibility. The likelihood of developing schizophrenia has a genetic component. While the exact causes remain unclear, research suggests that a combination of genetic, physical, psychological, and environmental factors can increase the risk of developing the condition.

 In Rito's case, his girlfriend's departure triggered a psychotic episode, compelling his mind to create Dessa as a surrogate to shield him from his emotional torment. He had been clandestinely consulting Samantha about his condition, divulging the abuse perpetrated by his late father, a factor that likely contributed to his developing illness.

 Samantha prescribed antipsychotic medication to manage his psychosis, primarily targeting schizophrenia and bipolar disorder, and handed the prescription to Mrs. Lopez. As they prepared to leave, Samantha, adhering to her routine, escorted them to the door.

 "Thank you, doctor," Mrs. Lopez offered a faint smile.

 "Not a problem. Just ensure he returns in two weeks, alright?"

 "Yes, doctor," she responded, glancing at Rito, who had been staring at the floor the entire time. "Thank Dr. Andersen now, Rito," she urged. Rito mumbled incoherently, showing signs of agitation. "Stop the mumbling, Rito. You know how I hate the mumbling."

 Mrs. Lopez gently prodded him to bring him back to reality, but instead, he fixed his gaze on Samantha and suddenly seized her arms. She gasped as his nails dug into her skin.

 "He's here!!" he wailed. "HE FOLLOWED ME HERE!"

 "RITO! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! LET THE DOCTOR GO, THIS INSTANT!" Mrs. Lopez tried to pull her son away from Samantha, but his grip was too tight. She stepped back, calling for help. Rito continued to shake Samantha, who did her best to maintain composure.

 "He's here, doctor! He's here! He's here!"

 Samantha forced a calm smile. "It's okay, Rito. Calm down. No one’s here. No one’s going to hurt you. I’ll protect you. I promise."

 His eyes were filled with remorse and fear. "H-He's not here for me, doctor," he muttered, shaking his head. "You don’t have to save me, because he’s here for you."

 For a moment, Samantha felt as though a bucket of freezing water had been poured over her. "The tall mysterious man Rito has been mentioning can’t be the same entity," she thought, her heart pounding. Even the mere thought of the creature made her flesh crawl.

 Once Rito was pulled away, Samantha felt utterly drained, collapsing to the ground, trembling. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead. "N-No! It can’t be him. H-He can’t be back, not yet," she stuttered, biting her nails in terror. She shut her eyes when a chilling lullaby echoed in her mind once again.

 "Tili-tili bom, ty slyshish', kto-to ryadom? Pritailsya za uglom, I pronzayet vzglyadom.

 Tili-tili bom, vse skroyet noch' nemaya. Za toboy kradetsya on. I vot-vot poymayet."

 Her eyes snapped open when someone placed a hand on her shoulder.

 "Babe! Hey, baby! Are you okay?! Are you hurt?!" She looked up to see Scott. Behind him stood Kaiser, who had helped pull Rito away from her.

  “Did he hurt you?!” Scott exclaimed, his voice laden with concern. He carefully removed Samantha’s white coat, and his face turned crimson with rage as he saw the scrapes on her arms from Rito’s sharp nails. The marks, accompanied by dark bruises, were visible through the thin fabric of her peach long sleeve. Samantha quickly pulled the sleeves down, trying to cover the injuries.

 "I'm fine. This is quite normal for me. I-I’m used to it," she said, attempting to sound composed.

 She tried to stand, but her knees were too weak, causing her to nearly fall. Scott caught her just in time, preventing further harm.

 "Let's get you treated," he insisted.

 "No, I told you I'm fine," Samantha responded in a slightly too loud, flat voice, standing up on her own. Scott, left bewildered on the floor, gave her a skeptical look, but she avoided his gaze.

 “I suppose the boy's grip didn’t affect your brain, did it?” he asked in a slightly playful manner. Samantha merely rolled her eyes. "Let me ask you something," he continued, his tone becoming serious. He took a few steps closer, and she winced when he touched the same spots Rito had grasped earlier, forcing her to look at him. "What on earth is going on with you?" he demanded.

 Samantha maintained a stoic expression. "Can you please just understand me?" she implored.

 “Am I not? I’ve been understanding from the very beginning of this relationship, but this is too much!”

 "Listen, buddy," she said, placing a hand on top of Scott’s. "I warned you from the start that our relationship would reach this point, and you clearly said you’d be fine with it. Now you’re complaining? You’re the one who got yourself into this mess!"