The Killer's Rose

Reflections of the Dead

The boy's hand suddenly wrapped around me in a hug,

"Mom..?" He burst out in tears, his words and actions causing me to wonder what he meant by all that.

"Why was he addressing me as his mother..." I wondered, but before I could let out a word, I noticed the boy, Marcus, suddenly having a seizure.

"W-what's happening, hey, are you okay?" I tried, but his eyes turned white as though an electric flow was passing through him. Then I heard a sudden slam on the door as a man I could tell was a doctor rushed in, followed by two nurses.

"You need to leave now, ma'am..." one of the nurses said, leading me outside the room as she shut the door behind me.

"What just happened?" I wondered, and then I watched Damien hasten to make his way, approaching my side.

"What happened, Uncle? What happened to Marcus?" he questioned in yells. Even though I had just been here, seeing him get so emotional and lose his cool was something I had never thought would happen, seeing his actions on the television.

"I'm sorry, Damien. I wanted to see for myself. I thought things would go well. I should never have sent Isla in just yet..." he said.

But why was this about me? Yet, that seemed like what took my attention. I needed an answer to a question that seemed to find its way to my mind.

"Why was he addressing me as his mother?" I asked as a sudden pause came on both the old man and Damien.

From the very start of things, I mean the very moment I had entered the mansion today, I had always felt possibly they saw me as someone different.

With this old man calling me a name, it wasn't a mistake, that I could say. He had called me the same name twice.

"Let's go..." Damien said, breaking the silence as he grasped my hand, leading me to the side.

"What was he planning to do?" I didn't notice any side of rage from him. Possibly, he wasn't planning on hurting me now, was he?

As we arrived at a passage, he stopped in his tracks. "That's why..." he simply said, pointing at a wall. On the walls were pictures, but just not any pictures. In some, I gazed upon an image of myself, some with Marcus, and some with Damien.

"No... no... that's not possible..." I muttered, perplexed at what I gazed upon. It must be forged, right?

"I never wanted to show you this so soon, but this is the only reason you are alive, the fact that you are my late wife look-alike. That alone spared your life..." Damien said.

But what was he saying? This wasn't a fantasy movie or such that he expected me to believe. It can't be possible; my look-alike?

Could that explain why Marcus had addressed me as his late mother the other time?

"No... that's not it. He must just be playing mind games..."

"I know this may be hard for you to take in all at once, but I need you to be my son's nanny. He needs his mother, and I would make sure my son becomes happy again, even if it means I would have to turn the world upside down for that. He is the only family I have..." Damien said.

But I couldn't tell if those words were threats or requests.

I made my way hastily, making my way to my room, as I closed the door behind me.

I approached the mirror, checking my reflection.

"How is this possible?" I wondered.

I should really leave this place now. Or was it possible that all this—the fact of me being kidnapped, sold off, tortured—could it be that it was just a nightmare? That explains it, right?" I questioned.

But eventually, I couldn't deny the truth that it was all real, every single bit of it.

I collapsed on my bed, many thoughts swirling through my mind. So that was why he had saved me and requested I become his son's nanny.

He was ready to go as far as having his son believe a lie, that his mother was still very much alive. But I wasn't ready to play that game. I have to leave sooner.

I laid down on the bed, thoughts of the boy's condition hitting me, the sudden seizure he had, the doctors running—all that made me wonder what might have caused his state. I'm sure he was just an innocent boy born from the devil's blood and now became a victim to it.

Deciding not to leave my room even for a single second, I remained on the bed as the late night found me laying right there.

I was holding a piece of broken glass in my hand. One thing I was sure of was that every single one of them in this mansion was crazy, who knows what they were all planning.

I tried taking a proper sleep, but even that was still hard for me to take at the moment. As I heard a soft creak on the door, some silent footsteps took after.

"Who could that be?" I wondered in my thoughts, holding the broken glass tightly. Could it be him? What was he doing here?

I felt a warm touch on my leg, one that traced up to my hips, causing me to react as I struck the broken glass at the stranger, careless of whoever it was.

"Arrgh," I heard a groan as I made my way hastily, switching on the room light. My gaze landed on a man. It wasn't Damien. It was the same man that stood beside Damien at the auction, the one that had blinded me, with a sack bag.

"What was he doing here?"

I noticed the broken glass which was still stuck in his stomach as he drew it out, his gaze raising to meet mine.

He licked his blood off the glass, his lips curling to a smirk. "Dangerous, I like that. Now that makes you more sexy," he said.