Chapter 54

The woman’s words echoed through her mind but elicited no reaction. Anya was simply too tired and unmotivated to even open her eyes. Her strength emptied by the minute. All she wanted was to drift off into the sweet embrace of slumber.

A soft and slender hand stroked her hair, tucking the strands of her black silk behind her ear. The fingers were as cold as ice, resulting in a subtle shudder each time it made contact with her skin. Her fatigue vanished and she became fully awake, but she dared not show it.

“It’s nice… isn’t it…? This dream…”

With each word spoken, a chilly breeze was blown into her ear. Anya began to quiver as the room was no longer temperate and pleasant. She wanted to dig her way under the blanket but the unsettling touch brought with it a deep-rooted fear that paralyzed her.

“You don’t want to wake up… do you…? I see… it had locked everything away in a little box...”

The child had no idea what the woman was talking about, but she was too afraid to speak. She bit into her lips to cope with the growing discomfort, wishing that whatever harassed her would just go away.

“Well… that’s too bad…” The hand jerked to a stop, it’s long and sharp fingernails slowly stabbing into her scalp. “I also have a key…”

The sharp pain grew until Anya could not withstand it any longer. Her eye jolted open and her gaze frantically shifted around the room. The girl gasped for air in between her panicked breaths. Slowly, she sat up and hesitantly check the rest of the bedroom. The girl placed her hand on her chest. Her heart was beating like a drum while sweat drenched her forehead.

“It’s just a nightmare…” she muttered, attempting to calm herself. “It wasn’t real…” Her eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness surrounding her and to her relief, nothing had changed. It was the same spacious bedroom and she still sat atop the puffy bed. For a while, the rustling of the sheets and her own breathing were the only things she could hear, however, as she began to relax, the sound of muffled conversations entered her ear.

“Oh, right.” the child exclaimed as she jumped out of bed, realizing that more customers had arrived. Anya patted down her dress in hopes that it would set everything back into place. Then, she adjusted the little white bow that was sewn to her side before dashing out of the room.

The restaurant was packed. Almost every seat was filled with someone who either chatted away or devoured their bowl of soup. Countless conversations intermixed together to form an almost indecipherable cloud of noise. Although Anya enjoyed the upbeat and lively atmosphere, she was disappointed that Emma was nowhere to be seen.

“Feelin’ better, missy?”

Anya turned around and greeted the man was a jovial smile.

“Yep!” The girl grabbed her shoulder and flexed her arm in an attempt to show off her weakly defined muscles. “Reporting for duty! Again!”

“Here,” the man handed the child a waiting tray containing several bowls of soup, “take this to that table over there. And no sneakin’ some bites this time.”

Anya dashed from the kitchen to the tables and vice-versa for what seemed like hours. The customers kept coming and coming. With each table emptied, a new group of patrons arrived to take their place. Some of the customers even ordered seconds before finishing their stay and leaving shortly after. Eventually, the crowd of customers began to thin and the frenzied cycle of delivering food came to a near stop. As the last of the arrivals took their final spoonfuls, Anya changed her focus to cleaning the tables. She stacked each group of plates and bowls on top of one another until she found it almost too heavy to carry, then she delivered it to the kitchen sink. By the end of it, Anya was exhausted and ready to call it quits.

“Phew!” She said, wiping her forehead with a small, red towel. The last of the tables had left and the remainder of the dishes had been retrieved. For as far as she was concerned, her job was done.

“Boone!” She shouted to the kitchen.

“What?” The man shouted back amidst the sound of running water and clashing dishware.

“Are we closed yet?”

“Almost, missy. We’re on last call.”

“But no one else is here!”

“Well if they come, you gotta serve them! No lazin’ just yet, we ain’t done!”

Anya sighed, she felt sticky and wanted nothing more to just clean herself and change into a fresh pair of clothing. The child closed her eyes and yawned, stretching out her arms while her legs swung back in forth underneath the table. Soon, boredom set in and the girl was forced to find creative ways of preoccupying herself. It started with just tracing circles on the table. Which, unsurprisingly, grew dull quickly. Then, she twirled her strands of hair around her finger, wondering whether she could get them to stay curled. When that proved fruitless, she began to blow on the bits of hair that fell to her face, challenging herself to see whether she could fix her hair without touching it. This occupied her for the longest. She did not necessarily find it fun, but a challenge is a challenge and she had nothing better to do. Anya finally gave up once she noticed the figure that stood by the door.

“Oh, hi!” The girl greeted, wondering why the individual refused to enter. “Take a-”

Anya paused as her eye laid upon the figure, it was the same woman from before, still wearing the white dress.

“Welcome back!” the child stood up and tucked in her chair. “You can take any seat…”

The woman pulled out a small key from behind her and held it up, displaying it as if it was meant to be a taunt. Suddenly, her plump, red lips curled into a devious smile before she left the premise without saying a word. Anya was baffled, wondering whether there was any meaning behind what the woman had done.

She had just pulled the chair out from underneath the table and before she could sit down, a new set of footsteps entered her ears.

“Wel-” Anya hesitated, her eyes grew wide open as her body froze solid like a statue.

The fat man stumbled to one of the empty tables and sat down, wiping away the sweat on his bald head with his swollen hand.

“Oi, ain’t ya gonna give me som’ service?” the fat man slurred. “Little pretty…?”

A shiver went down Anya’s spine. She did not understand why, but she was terrified. Blurred images swallowed her thoughts. It felt like a primal fear, something that was entrenched into her very bones.

“W-w-w-wel...” the child stuttered as her body shook. She found it impossible to form words as her tongue was tied in a nervous knot.

“Was wrong, little pretty…?” the fat man snorted and licked his lips before standing up. “Ain’t ya gonna move…? Ell, even betta ya ain’t...” As the man approached, the very ground trembled with every step. Anya began to back off as the sweaty man came close.

“P-P-Please take…” She said. "... a seat..."

“What ya sayin’, little pretty?” he leaned in and turned his ear toward her. “Ya gotta scream a little louda…”

The child shook uncontrollably as she panted in terror. She wanted to run but her body refused her command.

“B-B-Back away…”

The fat man swiped his hand and grabbed onto Anya with brutish force.

“Ya ain’t forget bout me, ain’t ya…” He licked his lips again, this time slobbering a thick coat of viscous fluid that dripped down his chin. “We can’t ‘ave you forgettin’... Ain’t we got somethin’ special…?”

“L-Let go of-” An abrupt pain suddenly struck from within her head. The girl flinched at the intense pressure, her head felt as if it was going to explode. Sounds, images, and emotions flew at her all at once, overloading her senses. Anya felt dizzy, her other hand held onto her head as she swayed, her legs threatened to give in.

Just then, an object struck the putrid man’s face with such intensity that it resulted in a bang that could be mistaken for a gunshot. Immediately, the fat man fell limp and crashed into a nearby table, breaking it into pieces.

“The hell ya doing to my employee, ya fat sack’o shit!”

The child, having lost her strength, fell back against the wall and slowly slid to the ground.

“Hey, ya alright, missy?” The man rushed to Anya, kneeling and checking her for injuries. “He ain’t hurt ya, did he?”

Anya slowly lifted her head, revealing the mixture of sorrow and despair that had surfaced.

“Boone…” She whimpered on the verge of crying. “It can’t be you…”

The man furrowed his brow, seemingly confused.

"What do ya...?"

“Boone…” She sniffled. “I killed you…”

The man seemed shocked, he placed his hand onto her forehead and checked her temperature.

“The hell ya talkin’ bout, missy?! Ain’t I right here?!”

Anya shook her head, her hand covering her ears as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“I… I remember… I remember it now… I remember everything…” The child glared at the man, barely able to keep herself together. “I killed you... None of this is real… That woman… she's here…”

The man did not speak, allowing the girl to continue.

“Why… why is this happening to me… I just wanna go home…!”

“Anya….” The man called, his voice even deeper and more gravelly than usual. “Why…”

The child removed her hands from her ears and listened.

“Why can’t you be happy…” The man spoke as his tone and pitch began to slip as if the previous voice was just an imitation.

Anya gasped and quickly covered her mouth as the figure in front of her began to degenerate. His eyes deformed and slipped as if they were cheap stickers. His nose and mouth melted and drooped like the wax of candlesticks.

“Everything… was… perfect…”

Pieces of its hair fused together and fell to the surrounding floor.

“I… made… it… just… for… you…”

The girl was left speechless and quivering.

“Everything… you… wanted… Everything… to… make… you… happy...”

Anya took the first opportunity she could to escape, but the horrid, melting creature grabbed her by her hand.

“Why… did… you… bring… him… here…”

The man that resembled Boone was gone and in its place, a liquefying glob of human skin.

“Why… can’t… you… be… happy…”

The girl desperately tugged at her arm, trying to set herself free. Unfortunately, nothing she did worked. It was as if her entire arm was locked in place.

“You… can… still… be… happy…”

“Let go of me!” Anya desperately screamed. The numbness from before began to spread, up her arm and near her shoulder.

“We… can… go… back…”

Anya pulled at her arm with all her strength, clenching her teeth as a ripping agony grew from the numbness.

“Just… forget…”

CRACK!

The girl was set free, a spray of liquid splashed to her face as she fell to the ground, encasing herself in a bloom of dust. Her vision blurred for a few seconds before her focus could return. She found herself in a place completely different from before, a place she did not recognize.

The warm orange lights from the various lanterns were gone, and in its stead, a dim grey light shone from the rooftop above. The cold floor held a checkered pattern between black and white, cracks were abundant among the tiles. Just a bit further away were rows upon rows of long benches, displaced by what seemed to be fleshy, pulsating tendrils. The child felt disoriented and lightheaded as her head flailed around when she attempted to move. She laid on her back and immediately felt her waist become soaking wet. Her eyes gazed at the faraway ceiling above, parts of the roof were missing, but still held mostly intact. Slowly, her vision followed the intricate designs carved into the structure and onto the wall where stone quickly changed to some sort of strange, pinkish material. It pulsated and held purple streaks which resemble veins.

Her attention was then drawn to a cavity in the wall.

It was in the shape of a human: a space for a head and body, two legs and an arm. As her body felt weak, she had difficulties concentrating. Eventually, she came to the realization that it wasn’t that the mold within the wall lacked space for an arm; it was that an arm was already there, jammed in tight and seemingly fusing with the surrounding organism.

She hesitantly looked to her shoulder.

AAUGGGHHHHH!

The girl screamed and wailed, as the intense pain spread from her shredded stump to the rest of her body. Rolling on the ground, her blood flew endlessly from her wound, covering the floor around her in a deep, dark red.

Her right arm had been ripped off right below the shoulder. The girl’s bone was exposed, cracked with bits of flesh and muscle barely hanging on. In between her bouts of misery, Anya coughed up blood as her throat strained and voice shattered. Her remaining arm soon failed her, and she fell face first into her own blood, still gagging and screaming.