Chapter Thirty-Three: Friday Morning — Sirens
552 Words
Chloe wrinkled her nose as she let herself in, grocery bag banging against her hip.
"Mom?" she called.
No answer.
Just the faint, rattling hum of the TV left on overnight.
---
Chloe dropped the bag on the counter and hurried down the hall.
She found Leia still on the couch, half-swallowed by sweat-stained blankets.
Her skin was waxy and pale, mouth slack and crusted at the corners.
Her chest rose in tiny, shallow jerks, each breath a struggle.
"Jesus, Mom," Chloe whispered, kneeling by the couch.
Leia’s eyes fluttered open — or at least tried.
The pupils were blown wide, unfocused.
Her lips moved soundlessly.
---
Owen appeared in the doorway, tugging his jacket on like he had somewhere much more important to be.
Chloe whipped around, fury flashing in her voice.
"Have you even looked at her? She needs a doctor!"
Owen shrugged. Lazy. Unbothered.
"She's fine. It's just a bad flu. She'll sleep it off."
Chloe gaped at him.
"Are you f*****g serious?"
The snap of Chloe’s voice rattled inside his skull, sharp as a slammed cupboard. For a heartbeat, Owen wanted to slam his hand down on the table just to silence the noise — but he stayed still, letting the impulse die the way everything else had.
Owen just grabbed his keys off the counter, tossed a lazy two-fingered salute at them both, and walked out the door without another word.
---
Chloe turned back to her mother, heart hammering.
"Okay, okay, it's fine," she muttered, more to herself than anyone else.
"I’m here. I’ve got you."
She grabbed a bottle of water from the counter and crouched beside the couch again, trying to coax Leia to sip.
Leia blinked up at her — confused.
Terrified.
---
And then —
her whole body stiffened.
Her hands clawed at the blanket, yanking it up like she was shielding herself from something invisible.
"No," Leia rasped, voice cracking.
"Get away. Get away—"
Her eyes were wide and glassy, staring at something just over Chloe’s shoulder.
Something Chloe couldn't see.
"Don't let them take me," Leia sobbed, voice breaking on a ragged gasp.
"Don’t let them—"
Chloe dropped the bottle, hands shaking.
"Mom, there's no one here," she said, voice pitching higher.
"It’s just me. You’re safe. You’re home."
But Leia thrashed against the couch, gasping, reaching for something that wasn’t there.
---
Chloe fumbled for her phone.
Fingers clumsy.
Heart hammering.
She dialed 911 with shaking hands.
"Please," she gasped into the phone.
"My mom’s sick. I think — I don’t know — she’s hallucinating — please send an ambulance —"
“It’s my turn to win now,” Leia rasped in a broken sing-song, slumping back against the cushions like a broken doll.
---
Chloe clutched her mother’s hand as Leia wept silently, her body too weak to even fight properly.
The distant wail of sirens curled through the neighborhood like a death knell.
Chloe pressed her forehead to the back of her mother’s trembling hand, whispering over and over:
"I’m here. I’m here. I’m here."
Somewhere deep inside the walls, a faint crack echoed — the sound of wood settling, or something giving way. Chloe didn’t notice. Nobody did. But after that, the house seemed smaller somehow. Sealed tighter. Holding its breath.
- Writer
