His dark possession

Carlos kept his eyes fixed on the television screen, though he wasn’t really watching it. The room was quiet—too quiet. The kind of silence that made every small sound feel louder than it should. The front door suddenly opened. His father walked in first, folding his arms tightly across his chest, disappointment written all over his face. Behind him, his mother stepped in more slowly, her expression softer but heavy with worry. “Ever since you graduated, you have been a completely different person,” his father said. His mother let out a tired sigh. “Carlos, dear… you know how important this occasion is to the family.” Carlos finally tore his gaze away from the TV. He scoffed. “What part of I’m not coming don’t you understand?” The air shifted immediately. His father’s hand twitched like he wanted to react, but he stopped himself when he noticed his wife’s eyes glistening. He exhaled sharply, turned to her, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go,” he said quietly. The front door shut behind them with enough force to shake the picture frame on the wall. Then—silence. Carlos waited. Waited for them to come back. Waited for the argument to continue. But only silence answered him. A few seconds later, the sound of a car engine started outside… then faded into the distance. Carlos sank into the purple couch and let out a small breath. “Peace and quiet,” he muttered. He reached for the remote and returned to the show Brick Woods, but his attention kept slipping. The argument replayed in his mind over and over like a broken record. They’ll get over it, he told himself. It’s not that deep. Time passed without him noticing. When he finally blinked, the television had gone silent. The movie had ended. He frowned, looking around the empty living room. “Mom? Dad?” Silence. Something uneasy tightened in his chest. He grabbed his phone from the table. Missed calls. From his parents. His heart skipped. “No…” he whispered. He tried calling his mother. No answer. His father. No answer. The silence on the line felt heavier than any words could. Then the phone rang. Unknown number. Carlos hesitated before answering. “Hello?” A man’s voice came through. “Am I speaking with Carlos, son of Mr. and Mrs. Graves?” His throat tightened. “Yes… is there a problem?” A pause. Then— “We received information that your parents were involved in a tragic accident. You are advised to come to the station first thing tomorrow morning.” The phone slipped slightly in his hand. “…Yes, sir,” Carlos said weakly, tears already forming. The call ended. Carlos lowered the phone slowly. His hands trembled. A tragic accident. The words echoed inside his head like a warning he couldn’t escape. “No,” he whispered sharply. That couldn’t be right. They had left only a few hours ago. They were just angry. They were supposed to come back. He tried calling again—his mother, then his father. Still no answer. That silence now felt terrifying. The night dragged endlessly. Sleep never came. He sat in the dark, staring at old family photos, tears sliding down his face without permission. “This can’t be true…” he choked out. Morning came too slowly. When it finally arrived, Carlos rushed to get dressed, his movements restless and unsteady. Before he could leave, his phone rang again. Officer Tristan. His stomach dropped. He answered. “Hello…” “Carlos Graves?” Tristan’s voice was firm but careful. “Yes…” “I need you to come to the station now.” Carlos froze. “But I was told tomorrow…” “I know,” Tristan interrupted gently. “But things have changed. Please come now.” A long silence stretched between them. Carlos swallowed hard. “Are they alive?” Another pause. “Just come, Carlos. I’ll explain everything when you get here.” The line went dead. Carlos stood there for a moment, staring at his phone. Then suddenly, he moved. He grabbed his keys and rushed outside. The drive to the station was silent. Now he was in a vehicle with Officer Tristan and two other officers. Carlos sat by the window, his head resting against the glass. Outside, life continued normally. People walked freely. Children laughed. Vendors called out to customers. The world was moving as if nothing was wrong. But inside Carlos, everything was breaking apart. His mind kept replaying the argument. His father’s voice. His mother’s eyes. The slammed door. The car leaving. A painful thought hit him. What if I had gone with them? His chest tightened. Tears blurred his vision, but he quickly wiped them away. No. There had to be a mistake. Maybe they were injured. Maybe they were in a hospital. Maybe this was all wrong. The vehicle finally slowed and turned into a large compound. Carlos looked up. A hospital building. His stomach twisted violently. “No…” he whispered under his breath. Officer Tristan opened the door. “We’re here.” Carlos didn’t move for a moment. Then he forced himself out. Each step toward the entrance felt heavier than the last. Inside, the air was cold. The smell of disinfectant filled his lungs. Nurses moved quickly through the hallway. Doctors spoke in low, urgent tones. One doctor stepped aside and spoke briefly with Tristan. Then Tristan turned to Carlos. “You should follow him.” Carlos didn’t respond. He just followed. The sound of the doctor’s shoes clicking against the tiled floor echoed in his head like a countdown. Left turn. Right turn. Every step felt like it was pulling him closer to something he didn’t want to see. His breathing grew shallow. His chest tightened. He wanted to stop. To ask a question. Any question. But no words came out. Finally, they stopped at a door. The doctor pushed it open slightly. “Go in,” he said quietly. Carlos swallowed hard. Then he stepped inside. The room was dim. Cold. Two bodies lay still under white sheets. Tags hung near their feet. His breath caught immediately. The doctor moved closer. Carlos followed, each step feeling like it broke something inside him. The doctor reached out. Slowly, he pulled back one sheet. Carlos already knew. Even before he saw. His mother’s face appeared. Pale. Still. Gone. The world stopped. “No…” Carlos whispered. His voice broke completely. “That’s… that’s not her.” His knees gave way. He stumbled backward, shaking violently. Tears poured down his face as if they had been waiting for permission. “This morning… she made breakfast…” he whispered helplessly. His breath became uneven. His vision blurred. His chest tightened until it hurt. The room spun. The last thing he felt was the ground rushing up.