Chapter 6 – Imposter

 Part 1

The first week of school had ended, and Saturday morning crept in with an eerie stillness. Outside, oppressive gray clouds mirrored the heaviness that filled our home, casting long shadows over the morning. Dad had driven me back late into the night, then retreated to his apartment, leaving behind an echo of his presence.

As I brushed my teeth, my phone buzzed with a message from Dad, saying he'd be late. I decided to make breakfast, a small attempt at normalcy. Carrying the meal to the living room, I saw Mom emerge from her bedroom. The faint bruises on her face stood out starkly, a haunting reminder of the violence she had endured. She moved like a ghost, her eyes hollow and lifeless, the light within her extinguished.

"Morning, Mom," I murmured, placing a steaming cup of coffee in front of her. I hoped the warmth might thaw the chill in her eyes. I hesitated, my mind racing to find the right words, but they caught in my throat, tangled in the heavy web of our shared silence.

She moved with a painful slowness, each action deliberate and strained. Her hands trembled as she reached for the coffee, the silence between us growing heavier with each passing second. I recounted the highlights of my first week of school, my words dissolving into the void of her unresponsive gaze. Her gaze was distant, trapped in a world of her own grief, unreachable and isolated.

“It was alright, I guess,” I mumbled, forcing a smile that felt foreign on my lips. “Oh, you wouldn’t believe this. My French teacher told me that she used to be a student at Maple Ridge. She’s strict, but I think I’ll manage.” I glanced at Mom, searching for a spark of interest, but her eyes were fixed on the table, unseeing.

The sound of a car pulling up broke the oppressive silence, the distant hum of the engine a stark contrast to the stillness inside. Mom's grip tightened around the mug, her knuckles turning white with the force of her anger. Her eyes, once hollow, now burned with a sudden, fierce intensity once she saw the two familiar faces enter the doorway.

"Jon. Aster. Why are you both here?" Mom demanded, her voice trembling with barely contained fury.

A heavy thud echoed as she slammed her mug on the table, coffee spilling over the edge, a stark contrast to the numbness that had enveloped her moments before. I hesitated to speak, words caught in my throat. The air grew thick with unspoken tension, each breath heavy with anticipation.

"Good morning, Lilac," Dad greeted, his voice calm but strained, the underlying tension unmistakable. “It’s been a while since we sat face to face.”

The atmosphere in the room shifted, a noticeable strain filling the space as Mom stood up, her movements sharp and sudden, like a coiled spring ready to snap. I reached out instinctively, grabbing her hand and pulling her back. Her skin was cold, devoid of the warmth I once knew.

“I’ve told you already I don’t need your pity,” Mom’s voice trembled, her eyes avoiding Dad’s. “I can handle this on my own.”

“Lilac, this isn’t about pity,” Jon replied, his voice a steadying hand against the rising stress, yet firm in its resolve. “It’s about supporting each other through times of need. You’re not alone.”

I remembered the countless times Dad and Jon had tried to intervene, bringing a therapist to our home. Each visit ended in disaster, like the time Mom had yanked the therapist's hair out in a fit of rage.

“Please Mom," I said, my voice trembling. Tears welled up in my eyes as I reached out to her. "I want us to be a family again. Even if it's different now.” I knew she had never stopped crying since Poppy’s passing, but I needed her to see that we still loved and cared about her.

“A family...” Mom muttered, her voice low but laced with hostility. "What do you know about family?" she spat, her hand striking my cheek with a sharp crack. Each slap grew fiercer, her fury feeding off my helplessness.

A dark aura enveloped her, the temperature dropping instantly. The air grew thick and oppressive, making it hard to breathe. I could almost taste the bitterness of fear. The world around us slowly drained of color. Her skin began to crack, the sound like dry branches snapping. Beneath, a grotesque beak-like structure emerged, glistening in the dim light. I recoiled, my stomach churning at the sight.

I noticed this scene before, the dark aura of specters developing around people, but not everyone seemed to have the ability to see it. Iris and Claire had warned me about this. They said my attachment might find another host for its vessel. Mom’s eyes transformed into yellow slits, glaring at me with pure malice. Her eyes turned into yellow slits, burning with rage.

"Mom—" I began, but her glare stopped me cold. It was the most hateful look I had ever seen from her. Mom's facade of gentleness shattered, her eyes darkening with a malevolent glint. The warmth I only saw on old photos was replaced by a chilling hostility, her true nature seeping through the cracks.

"Why do you call me Mom? I'm not your mother. Who are you really?" Her voice was icy, dripping with venom that sent chills down my spine. Her words sliced through me, sharper than any blade. My chest tightened, and I struggled to breathe, each word a dagger to my heart.

Jon lunged forward, his movements a blur of desperation. He wrapped his arms around Mom, locking her in a full nelson. “Hold still, Lilac!” he shouted, his voice strained with effort. A sharp sting erupted above my lip, and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth, mingling with the bitter tang of fear. The room seemed to close in around me, the air thick with tension. The pain was sharp and immediate, a brutal reminder of the emotional torment tearing me apart.

Dad's eyes widened in disbelief, his hands trembling. "Lilac! What are you talking about? This is your son. Jon and I were there when you gave birth to him," he said, his voice cracking. Jon's grip tightened on Mom, his face a mix of confusion and desperation.

It was a natural reaction to Dad and Jon's inability to comprehend. As my father and godfather, they couldn't fathom why she would make such an outrageous accusation. The unfortunate truth, however, was that Mom was right. My shoulders sagged under the weight of my guilt, my heart pounding in my chest as I finally admitted the truth.

"Dad. Jon. I can't keep lying to you," I said, my voice breaking. "For over a year, this secret has gnawed at me, eating away at my soul. I can't do it anymore."

I replay the night vividly. The screech of tires, the shattering glass, and then darkness. When I woke up, the doctors said I had been brain dead for half an hour. The real Ellis was gone, and I was left in his place. When he finally regained consciousness, he had lost most of his memories, but that wasn't the worst part.

He—or rather, I—couldn't recognize faces anymore. When I finally woke up from my coma, I felt trapped in a living nightmare. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the beeping of machines and the soft murmur of voices.

My confusion and fear were palpable, a heavy fog that clouded my mind. When I opened my eyes, the world was a nightmare. Every person I saw was faceless, their features blurred into nothingness. It was as if I was surrounded by mannequins, their blank stares haunting me. A cold shiver ran down my spine, my hands trembling as the weight of my deception pressed down on me. I could barely breathe, the guilt suffocating me. Maybe this was my punishment, a fitting retribution for an imposter who dared to take on the name of Ellis.

Part 2

"Hey, I'm Wisteria! What's your name?" a voice chirped, its cheeriness grating against my sober mood. I turned my head, seeing another faceless figure about ten years old.

Her love for pink was unmistakable—a wool hat, shirt, and backpack, all in varying shades of pink, clashing starkly with the sterile whites and grays of the rehab center. The scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, mingling with the faint, sweet smell of her bubblegum. I kept my eyes on the floor, the familiar blur of faces around me a constant reminder of my condition.

Prosopagnosia, they called it. To me, it was a living nightmare. The doctors had their theories—trauma from the accident, they said. But their words were just noise. All I knew was that faces were now a blur, a cruel twist of fate. Their explanations didn't matter; all I knew was that I couldn't recognize anyone. The world was a sea of faceless figures—each one a stranger, even those I should have known.

“I like pink,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “It makes me feel… pretty.”

The young girl adjusted her pink wool hat nervously, her fingers lingering at the edges as if afraid it might slip off. She struggled to see herself as pretty or girly after losing all of her hair. I didn't know any of this, but ignorance didn't excuse my cruelty. The image of her pink hat sailing into the Koi pond haunted me.

Joy's disappointed tone could be sensed as she secured me back in my wheelchair, pushing me back to my room. “That's enough for today,” she said sternly.

I didn't resist. Solitude was my sanctuary, a place where I could lose myself in the shifting colors of the sky outside my window. This peaceful time was a double-edged sword—offering comfort while also reminding me of my isolation.

The sky outside shifted from blue to orange, a slow dance of colors. The hum of the air conditioning and the distant chatter of nurses were a constant backdrop, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside me. I stared out the window, trying to lose myself in the shifting colors of the sky. As I gazed out the window, lost in thought, a soft knock interrupted my reverie. I wondered who it could be; Dad wasn't scheduled to visit today.

"Hey Ellis, it's me," a familiar voice called out. Charlotte's light chestnut hair was cut at nape's length, with bangs swept to the right, framing her stern gaze. "I’m really disappointed in you. When I arrived, Joy told me you were bullying a girl today."

Her voice had a warmth overshadowed by a stern edge, slicing through the air like a blade. The scent of antiseptic lingered, mingling with the faint aroma of her perfume. I couldn't see her face, but her tone cut through me like a knife. My defenses crumbled, and a knot tightened in my stomach. Ignoring her might have been foolish, but it only fueled her frustration. She grabbed my ears, her fingers digging painfully into my skin. I winced, the sharp pull sending a jolt of pain through me.

"Don't you dare bully a young girl like that again," she snapped, her grip tightening until I muttered an apology. "If you're truly sorry, let's go to her room and apologize together."

"No, Charlotte, I refuse!" I shouted, my voice cracking. She tried to maneuver me into the wheelchair, but I resisted, my hands gripping the sides of the chair. "You can't make me."

"What do you think Poppy would say if she heard that?" Charlotte's words cut through my resistance like a knife. I froze, the guilt and confusion crashing over me like a wave.

The mention of Poppy's name sent a jolt through me, a mix of guilt and confusion twisting in my gut. Memories that weren't mine haunted me, a constant reminder of the life I was pretending to live. Every day was a struggle—pretending to be the boy everyone once remembered. Eventually, the visits dwindled. Only Charlotte, her parents, Jon, and Dad still came. They said Ellis’s Mom was too unwell to visit the Children’s Hospital, but I didn’t care.

A few minutes later, Charlotte wheeled me to the faceless person in pink from earlier. I decided to call her 'Pinky'. I turned my head to the window, the cold glass pressing against my forehead. I tried to block out her presence, but the frustration bubbling inside me was hard to ignore. I didn't care. This only infuriated Charlotte more, and she pulled my nose until I faced Pinky.

"Hello there, I'm Charlotte. And this little grumpy pants here is Ellis," Charlotte said, her tone light but firm.

The room was a blur of pink—stuffed animals lined the shelves, frilly curtains framed the window, and photos of happier times adorned the walls. The scent of bubblegum and the faint hum of the hospital's air conditioning contrasted sharply with the sterile whites and grays outside.

"Mommy and Daddy said I have cancer and this place will help me get better," Pinky said, her voice wavering slightly. "What about you, Ellis? Why are you here?"

I hesitated, the words catching in my throat. "I... I woke up here," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper. Charlotte's eyes narrowed, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didn't push further, but the tension in the room was palpable, hanging heavy in the air.

I didn’t want to talk or answer her questions. Each one felt like a probe into a past I couldn't recall, but Pinky kept asking about our hobbies, likes, and dislikes. Charlotte answered with funny and interesting stories, while I gave short, vague responses like 'yes', 'no', or 'maybe'. I hoped Pinky would get bored and stop. She didn’t. Her persistence was both annoying and oddly comforting, a strange mix that I couldn't quite understand.

As I listened, their conversation stretched into the night, until the hospital announced that guests had to leave. Pinky looked sad, but Charlotte gave her a big hug before we left. Back in my room, I watched Charlotte wave at me through the window, her smile bright. But my attention was drawn to the creature hovering by the window, its gaze fixed on me. A shiver ran down my spine as it hovered. ‘What was that thing?’ I wondered, the chill lingering long after it had disappeared.

***

In the middle of the night, I felt a chill. Slowly, I realized someone was in the room. Pinky had somehow snuck in and was hogging my blankets. Her small form curled up next to me, providing a surprising source of warmth in the cold room. I thought about pushing her off the bed, but Charlotte's words echoed in my mind. With a sigh, I decided it wasn't worth the trouble. I gently pulled the blanket over us, the warmth of her small body against mine bringing an unexpected sense of comfort. For the first time in a long while, I felt a flicker of peace.

Each morning, I found Pinky curled up beside me, her presence becoming a comforting routine. My initial irritation faded, replaced by a reluctant fondness. Charlotte decided to surprise us with an assortment of desserts, each with exotic names and unfamiliar flavors.

“That cake looks like it survived a fire, there is no way anyone would try that,” I teased, earning a laugh from Pinky that brightened the room.

The moment I made a comment on her baking skills, Charlotte tugged on my nose, and Pinky's laughter filled the room, a bright sound that cut through the hospital's sterile silence. Charlotte's playful tugs on my nose annoyed me, but I found myself speaking up more often. It soon became my safe space where I could be more honest.

"You have to try this game!" Pinky exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It's a dating sim where you can choose your own story and romance different characters.” She handed me her phone, and I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm.

‘Maybe this life isn't so bad after all,’ I thought, a small smile tugging at my lips. Eventually, the dreadful, dull world I once lived in started to become a little more colorful.

Part 3

Two months had slipped by since Pinky entered my life. Despite my continued struggle to read expressions, her bright outlook sparkled with cheerfulness, and her wide smile lit up the room. My birthday had come and gone, marked only by Dad's gift of a jar of jellybeans. The sweet scent of jellybeans mingled with the faint antiseptic smell of the hospital as Pinky and I were enjoying them on my bed.

"I just realized something. Ellis, you've never once called me by my name. Why is that?" Pinky asked one day, her voice light yet probing. She sat beside me on the bed, plopping another jellybean in her mouth.

"I don't really need to,” I muttered, staring at the floor. “After all, everyone will eventually forget me," The words tasted bitter, like a truth I couldn't swallow.

The person here wasn't Ellis. I was a fake, a copy, an imposter. Each negative thought was a dagger to my heart, twisting deeper with every breath. I clenched my fists, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill. Did I even deserve happiness?

I was merely a stand-in for someone else. My past was a void, a black hole that swallowed my memories. The car accident had taken my sister and left me in a coma, but the details were hazy, like a dream I couldn't quite grasp. When I awoke, a man who claimed to be my father was there. It hurt me that he was kind and caring, but I felt nothing for him. I wasn't his son. I was a counterfeit.

"Why do you think that?" Her cheerful demeanor faded, her eyes clouding with sadness. She bit her lip, and tears welled up, spilling down her cheeks. "I don't really get it, but... it really hurts me when you say things like that. Even if you say that everyone will forget you, I won't," she said, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"—I... —I?!" My head felt like it was about to explode.

Images flashed through my mind, each one more vivid than the last. Sweat poured down my face, the salty taste mingling with the panic rising in my throat. A girl I didn't recognize, moments of joy and sorrow, life and death intertwined.

“Ellis, what’s wrong? Should I call the nurse?” Pinky cried out to me.

"Poppy... Poppy, why did you have to abandon me..." I whispered, my voice cracking.

Pinky tried to come closer, but I pushed her away, the pain in my head intensifying. My vision blurred, and I felt scratches and bruises forming on my skin, each one a sharp reminder of my confusion. Scratches and bruises began appearing on my skin, and I couldn't comprehend what was happening. Flashes of foreign memories flooded my mind. What was going on?

One moment, I saw a girl I had never met, her laughter echoing in a sunlit garden. The next, she was lying on the street, her body covered in blood. The metallic scent filled my nostrils, and I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. My head spun, the images swirling like a chaotic merry-go-round. Each one pushed me closer to the edge, my mind teetering on the brink of explosion. I clutched my head, desperate for the chaos to stop. I couldn't take it anymore.

"Your sister died so young. This tragedy was born from the world's wickedness and cruelty,” the voice hissed, filled with rage. “Little mouse. Let your hate fuel me. Let me consume your hate so we can exact revenge on the pests who wronged us."

"Yes. They deserve to suffer. I need to make them pay for what they did," That voice. I struggled to comprehend where it was coming from. It was coming from my mouth.

"I looked up, my heart pounding, and saw the same horrifying creature that haunted my nights. Its glowing eyes burned with hatred, casting eerie shadows on the walls. It was a manifestation of darkness and death, radiating a chill that pierced my bones. Scratches appeared on my skin, each one stinging like a fresh wound. I winced, the pain sharp and immediate, a reminder of the creature's malevolence. I could see the vapors of my breath in the cold air, the only sign of my fading warmth. The chill pierced my bones, making me shiver uncontrollably.

The specter extended its hand, tempting me with the power I craved. But I didn't care. All I wanted was to avenge her.

"Stop! Ellis, please, don't do this," a voice cried out, filled with desperation.

I felt a weight on my back, pulling me away. Her touch was warm, pulling me back from my trance. The creature's glowing eyes faded into the darkness, leaving me trembling and drenched in sweat. As it vanished, my legs trembled at what I had witnessed. I had narrowly escaped with my life. Taking a deep breath, I tried to sort out my thoughts. My body was drenched in sweat from the ordeal.

"Thank goodness. I was afraid it was too late," she said, sounding relieved.

Fear gripped me, my mind racing with the possibilities. What would have happened if I had touched its hand? I shuddered at the thought, my body still trembling from the ordeal. But instead she reached out. Her hands were fragile yet warm to the touch, but as I examined closely, I recognized the bruises and claw marks on her arms, and realization struck me like a lightning bolt.

"That thing. You saw it, didn't you?" my expression turned white.

She looked puzzled by my question, but then I started seeing faint outlines of injuries around her arm. I grabbed her arm, the rough fabric of her sleeve scratched against my fingers as I yanked it up, revealing the bruises and claw marks that marred her skin.

"How long have you known?" I screamed out as anger surged through me. My hands trembled as I gripped her arm. My voice shook with rage, each word a struggle to contain the fury inside me. "Answer me now!"

“Ellis, it hurts," she whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes as my grip bent her arm at an uncomfortable angle. Pinky kept denying but then when I pulled the sleeves of her arm and saw the marks covering all over her body, she finally nodded in confirmation.

For months, I questioned my sanity. I asked the doctors, nurses, even my own family if they could see the monster. Their puzzled looks and dismissive answers made me feel like I was losing my mind. Without Joy’s intervention, the staff thought I was paranoid and considered heavily medicating me for delusions, so I stopped asking. It kept staring at me every night, haunting me before Pinky appeared.

"I knew before we even met,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “The monster followed you everywhere. Its glowing eyes were always on me, especially when I tried to keep you from sleeping alone."

My heart began pounding harder as the pieces started connecting. The thought of being in the room with the specter was terrifying. But she was more scared of it hurting me or taking me away. That was the reason why she visited me every day, even when I was asleep. For a while, I was stunned, struggling to process the revelation. My mind spun, disbelief and betrayal churning like a storm inside me wondering how had I not noticed?

"Get out! Get out and never come back. I don't want to see you," I screamed, hurling the glass jar of jellybeans across the room.

The jar shattered against the wall, a burst of colorful candies and sharp glass fragments flying in all directions. The sound echoed in the room, a sharp contrast to the silence that followed. She backed away, but didn't leave. I picked up a pair of crutches before I grabbed her arm. Crunching on the ground could be heard as I dragged her out of my room, ignoring her desperate pleas. She tried to push past me, but I slammed the door shut and leaned against it.

Moments later, I heard her sobbing and begging for forgiveness on the other side of the door. Her words were muffled, but the pain in her voice was clear. I leaned against the door, my heart pounding, but I couldn't bring myself to listen.

Joy came running and saw the mess. Blood stained my feet, each step sending a sharp sting through me. The cold, sterile smell of the hospital mingled with the metallic scent of blood, but all I felt was numbness. My wounds were bandaged, and I was scolded harshly for my behavior. Occasionally, Charlotte would lecture me and visit her, but Pinky never came back after that. I regret hurting her, but the fear of the monster harming her even more was overwhelming. I couldn't let it happen. Not again.

***

For the next week, the specter appeared more frequently. Each day, the isolation grew, driving me deeper into the safety of my room. The walls felt like a fortress, but also a prison. Unfortunately, I had to go to another doctor's checkup. To get there, I had to roll myself past the room of the person I dreaded seeing the most. From inside, I heard heavy sobbing. Another physician was there, along with Pinky and her parents.

I could have left, but something kept me rooted as I watched them hug her tightly while he delivered the bad news. She needed surgery. Even if it went well, she would face serious consequences for her life. A wave of disgust washed over me for eavesdropping, but I couldn't move. The grim news rooted me to the spot, my heart pounding in my chest. When I came back, she was alone. The room was heavy with sadness, the air thick with unspoken sorrow. The faint scent of antiseptic mingled with the sterile smell of hospital sheets and the faint aroma of food. Her soft sobs were the only sound, a heartbreaking melody that filled the silent room.

I took a deep breath and knocked gently, hoping for the best. "Hey you… is everything alright?"

Each sob felt like a stab to my heart, the weight of my guilt pressing down on me. She sat on the bed, her hands covering her head, crying softly. I couldn't see her face, but I imagined her eyes were red and swollen from the tears. The last time we met, I had made her cry. How could I face her now? My heart pounded as I stood at the door, torn between the need to apologize and the fear of making things worse. I wanted to apologize, to make things right, but I didn't know if she would forgive me or even let me in.

As soon as she noticed my presence, Pinky quickly turned away, wiping the tears from her face with trembling hands. She used to visit me with a bright smile, but today, the gloom was palpable the moment I stepped in. Her shoulders slumped, and her eyes were red from crying. I hesitated, wondering if visiting her was the right thing to do. The untouched hospital food sat on the tray, its unappetizing smell mingling with the antiseptic scent of the room.

"Mommy and daddy said in the future I won't be able to have any babies," Pinky told me while she wrapped a plushie around her arms.

"That doesn't seem so important that you have to be sad." I spoke without thinking and instantly regretted it. "It's not like the world needs more mouths."

Her brow furrowed, and she looked at me with confusion, her eyes searching mine for some kind of understanding. I felt a pang of guilt for my thoughtless words. Frustration bubbled up inside me, my hands clenched into fists. I wished Charlotte were here to help me find the right words. I fumbled for words, the silence stretching awkwardly between us.

"Maybe it’s because they are hungry?" Pinky said as she tilted her head. I wanted to smack my palm on my head. Maybe she was just another clueless mouth, her voice a soft murmur in the sterile room. But instead of dismissing her, I asked another question.

"Why did you always come and visit my room? That... that creature could have hurt you. Didn't you care about your own safety?" I asked, struggling to get my words out. "There are other kids in this hospital you could bother. I'm sure many of them would be friendlier and interact with you better than me."

"Why? Um, hmm... I never thought of it," Pinky wondered aloud. She tilted her head and put her hand on her chin, her innocent gesture contrasting sharply with the weary expressions of the adults I saw every day.

"If that's the case, then why don't you leave me alone?" I muttered.

Pinky pondered for a moment before looking at me. "It's because you look lonely. Like you need a friend."

"Lonely..." Hearing those words confused me by what she meant.

"Yeah, lonely. When I see you, you're always looking outside. Are you waiting for your friends? Mommy says everyone needs friends. Even I get lonely," Pinky answered.

Her words caught me off guard, a spark of surprise flickering inside me. Was I waiting for someone? The thought lingered, unsettling and persistent. I used to hope for a chance to apologize to Ellis' mother, to explain everything. But as time passed, that hope faded, replaced by a numb acceptance. Not having an answer to respond was frustrating, a constant reminder of my own confusion. I waited so long, but no one came to see me except for Charlotte, Jon, and Dad.

"The truth is my friends used to visit me every day, but they stopped coming. I think they realized I wouldn't get better and decided it would be best to forget about me," I said as I looked at a child who had been forced to grow up too quickly. Her eyes held a wisdom beyond her years, a stark contrast to her innocent demeanor. "I don't blame them for not wanting to see me like this. But... but being alone still hurts. And you were wrong too."

"But I am, I'm—" I wanted to tell her the truth—that I was an imposter in someone else's life.

My jaw tightened, teeth grinding together as frustration bubbled up inside me. I clenched my fists, struggling to find the right words. I couldn't find any words to counter her statement, so I gave up. The truth was, I didn't want to be forgotten. I wanted to escape this hospital and see the world. But as a fake I felt I didn't have the right to be selfish. The thought gnawed at me, a constant reminder of my deception. However, looking at her, maybe she saw something in me that I didn't.

"Not every family can have children. You can always adopt," I felt obliged to answer her question, so I explained my previous remark. I didn’t think much about it as I hoped that would be enough to make her stop talking and leave me alone.

"Then I can be a mommy," Pinky—no, Wisteria—exclaimed, her face lit up, eyes sparkling with excitement as she began to jump up and down on her bed.

The bed creaked under her weight, and her laughter filled the room. I placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her down. Joy peeked in, her eyes widening at the commotion. I braced myself for a scolding, but her body language showed relief instead.

Slowly I told Wisteria to get down from the bed and sit back down. "Is there anything else you want to do?" I asked, my voice softening. “Something you’ve always dreamed of?”

She hesitated for a moment, thinking it over before answering. "There is one thing I've always wanted to do," she said with a bright laugh. "I want to see France. I’ve always wanted to visit Lumiere City."

"Then let's go together," I blurted out without thinking.

A surge of emotion filled my chest, a warmth spreading through me that I hadn't felt in a long time. I didn't know what it was, but it made me say something I never expected. For a long time, I thought I didn't have the right to dream. I didn't care about anything or anyone, but this moment made me want to move forward.

Part 4

"You're right. I'm not your son," I said, my voice a hollow echo of the person I used to be.

The air grew colder, an oppressive weight pressing down on us. I could see my breath in the frigid air, and a shiver ran down my spine. The specter's presence grew more tangible, shadows creeping and twisting throughout Mom, swallowing the light. Lilac's body convulsed, her eyes rolling back as Schnabelmaske's dark energy seeped into her, the air thick with the scent of decay. Shadows twisted and writhed around her, draining the color from her face. Her skin turned as pale and lifeless as a porcelain doll, and the scent of decay filled the room.

"Ellis, be careful!" Jon shouted as he and Dad tried to hold her down, but the specter's power was too strong.

Schnabelmaske flicked its shadowy appendages, and Jon and Dad were thrown aside like ragdolls. Jon crashed into the wall with a sickening thud, while Dad landed in a heap on the floor. I could hear their groans of pain, but I couldn't look away from Mom.

"Your son died that day,” I said, my voice steady. “The truth is that the person you see here is nothing but an empty shell of your dead son."

My voice was eerily calm amidst the chaos, a strange sense of relief washing over me as I finally admitted the truth. It felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. My name was Ellis, but I was not Lilac and Aster's Ellis. I was just someone who pretended to be their son and had taken over his body.

"Give him back to me. Give him back!" Mom's voice rose to a terrifying scream, raw with desperation and grief. She had never spoken to me like that before. I don’t think she even looked at me as a human being. Now the grief made her see me as a monster who had stolen both of her children from her.

Lilac's body twisted unnaturally, her limbs jerking as the specter tightened its grasp. Her movements were grotesque, each one more disturbing than the last. The monstrous beak mask of Schnabelmaske materialized over her face, its sickly eyes glowing with malevolent intent. The air grew colder, and the scent of decay filled the room. The shadows around her grew darker, more menacing, as they reached out to ensnare me.

"Mom! You have every right to be angry, but you can’t let that specter take hold of you," I shouted, stepping closer. My voice cracked with desperation, and I reached out, trying to pull her back from the brink.

A sharp pain jetted through my left arm, growing more intense with each movement. The shadows around me seemed to pulse with anger, reacting to my every step. I tore at the tendrils, but memories flooded my mind, disorienting me. Images of Mom's grief and a plague doctor in a bird mask flashed before my eyes, leaving me dizzy and confused.

Mom’s memories were filled with sadness and grief over losing her children, the spiral of alcoholism. Others were from a forgotten time, memories of a person in black garb, wearing a bird mask, traveling through plague-ridden European cities to tend to the sick and dying. It was as though I was seeing the memories of both Mom and the specter. Flashes then focused on a rich noble’s house. Painful swelling could be seen taking over the young lady’s body as the Lord desperately begged for the doctor's help.

“Schnabelmaske, why are you doing this?” I demanded, my voice trembling. Sweat dripped down my face as I stared at the creature that had taken over Mom. Sweat dripped down my face, my heart pounding as I confronted the specter. My hands trembled, but I stood my ground. “I saw what you did as a doctor. You helped so many people, so why? Why are you doing this?”

“Curse that vile man, damn those vermin all to hell,” the specter’s horrifying shrieks rang throughout the room.

As the shrieks grew louder, a dark pulse of energy exploded from the specter, flinging everything away. I was thrown back, the impact knocking the breath out of me. The dust settled, revealing a hideous creature where Mom once stood. Its form was twisted and grotesque, like a nightmare come to life. The air grew colder, and the scent of decay filled the room. Schnabelmaske had finally taken full control of her body.

“Schnabelmaske!” I screamed, feeling a tug on my own spirit. I resisted, pushing back with all my might. “Leave us alone. I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

While I hesitated if everything was connected at first but now I am sure. I remembered a tale from one of the French books Charlotte brought me. It spoke of a doctor who traveled across Germany and France, saving lives during the bubonic plague. Schnabelmaske was a famed miracle worker saving lives for the poor and forgotten. His reputation grew as he saved countless lives, often risking his own health to care for the poorest and most forgotten. But at a remote location, he was summoned by a noble.

The lord desperately wanted him to save his dying wife but illness had rotted her too far. Unable to help, the lord became infuriated and accused Schnabelmaske of heresy and condemned him to be burned alive. The specter's ominous aura darkened, and it let out a horrifying shriek, as if cursing me for making it remember its past. The force hit me like a freight train, knocking the wind out of me. I gasped for breath, my legs trembling as I struggled to get back on my feet.

"Mom, you don’t need to live in a world of sadness and grief. Please remember your children! Remember the good times with Ellis and Poppy!" I pleaded, my voice trembled with emotion, my heart pounding as I pleaded with her. I hoped desperately to reach the part of her that still remembered love and joy.

For a moment, a flicker of recognition appeared in her eyes, but it was quickly overshadowed by the specter's influence. Schnabelmaske's beak mask split apart, revealing a dark void within, like a portal to endless night. The air grew colder, and a sense of dread filled the room. With one flick of its hand, a dull-looking cane emerged from under its shadow. Raising the cane up like a baton, dark spears of shadow quickly rained down towards me.

I dove behind a wall, my heart racing as dark spears rained down, shattering the room. The sound of impact echoed around me, and I felt the vibrations through the floor. Peeking my head, Jon and Dad were tossed far away from the scene, possibly dealing with a concussion. Now that I knew they were safe for the time being, I looked around to see if there was anything I could do to stop the specter’s rampage.

“Schnabelmaske, Give my Mom back,” I shouted, my voice steady despite the fear. “I’m not afraid of you anymore.” The specter became inflamed as I called out its name.

I dodged to the side, narrowly avoiding the black spears of darkness. My heart pounded against my ribs, each beat ringing in my ears. Sweat trickled down my back, a constant reminder of the stakes. I could feel the sweat trickling down my back, each drop a reminder of the stakes. Failure wasn't an option.

I drew on every ounce of courage, my legs trembling as I stepped forward, determined to save Mom. A rattling noise echoed from around the corner, drawing Schnabelmaske's attention. It blasted a flurry of spears in that direction, giving me the distraction I needed. I rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding another spear, and sprang to my feet in one swift motion.

"Run all you want, little mouse," it taunted, its form materializing in the darkness. "Your fear only makes me stronger."

I charged at it, thinking I had the element of surprise, but a dark shadow wrapped around my leg, tripping me up. With my right leg caught, Schnabelmaske had lured me into a trap. The stench of decay grew stronger, making my stomach churn. Schnabelmaske's rotting body loomed over me, its foul breath hot against my skin. Its right hand stretched out, hovering above me, ready to touch and decay me with its dark powers.

Every second counted. Mom's life hung in the balance, and I couldn't let her down. At that moment, I noticed a large mirror on the wall behind Schnabelmaske. An idea struck me. I grabbed a shard of broken glass from the floor, my hands shaking. Angling it just right, I caught the light from the window and directed it into Schnabelmaske's eyes. The specter recoiled, its form flickering. The specter recoiled, its form flickering.

“Take this!” I shouted, my voice trembling with a mix of fear and determination. I rushed to the debris and pulled out my smartphone. A beam of light blasted Schnabelmaske, blinding it as its beak-like mouth opened and shrieked in pain. The wail was piercing, reverberating through the darkened room and making my ears ring. The sound was so intense, it felt like needles stabbing into my eardrums.

Desperation and fierce determination coursed through me, my muscles tensing as I prepared to strike. I would save her, no matter the cost. I feinted to the left, then lunged right, aiming a kick at Schnabelmaske's knee. A spear grazed my arm, the sharp pain searing through me. I gritted my teeth, pushing through the agony. There was no time to slow down. As Schnabelmaske lunged, I twisted, using its momentum against it to throw it off balance and forcefully shoved the pouch Iris and Claire gave into its mouth.

“Un... Deux... Trois… Quatre…” I counted down as it flailed about, coughing to expel the powder. Spears of darkness rained down wildly, but I narrowly escaped them, using the debris around me as cover. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat a drum of urgency. The stakes were high, and failure wasn't an option.

“Four Knuckles Up!” I screamed, rushing forward. My uppercut connected with a resounding impact. The force reverberated through my arm as the mask shattered, pieces of it flying in all directions like shards of a broken mirror.

The specter let out a blood-curdling scream, its form flickering and distorting as the blow disrupted its control. For a moment, time seemed to slow, each second stretching into an eternity. I could see the shock and pain in the specter's eyes, a mix of rage and disbelief. The shadows flickered and convulsed, their tendrils writhing as they struggled to maintain their form. I could see them weakening, their dark energy faltering.

As Mom fell down I hurried over to her, my heart racing. My hands trembled as I knelt beside her, my heart pounding in my chest. I leaned in, desperate to hear her breath, my own breath coming in ragged gasps. “Mom... Are you okay?” I hobbled over to check on her, my voice trembling with concern. "Please, wake up."

“Ellis… Is that you?” For a moment, I thought I had saved her. But then, her eyes snapped open, revealing a cold, malevolent gaze. My heart sank as the horrifying truth dawned on me—it wasn't Mom.

It was the specter, mocking me with her face. Before I could react, a sharp pain pierced through my back. I gasped, looking down to see a black spear made of shadows protruding from my chest. The pain was excruciating, a searing agony that radiated from my chest. My vision blurred, and I felt my strength draining away, my limbs growing heavy and numb. The specter, now fully in control, laughed maniacally. Its voice was a twisted echo of my mother's, filled with malice and cruelty. The sound sent chills down my spine.

"Did you really think you could save her, little mouse?" it taunted, its voice dripping with venom. I gasped, the pain in my chest overwhelming, as I struggled to stay conscious.

Part 5

As I lay on the ground, the unmistakable scent of freshly baked bread, rich chocolate, and delicate pastries filled the air. Pain throbbed through my body, each pulse a reminder of my injuries. I began to wonder if this was the end, my vision blurring as darkness crept in. My vision blurred, the edges of my sight darkening as if a curtain was slowly being drawn. A strange warmth enveloped me, like a gentle light wrapping around my injuries, soothing the pain.

I could see walls were lined with shelves holding neatly packaged treats, from delicate macarons to intricately decorated cakes. Turning my head, glass displays showcased sweets with names as fancy as their appearances. My mind struggled to comprehend the scene before me on how this was possible? The warmth and scents felt so real, yet I knew I was on the brink of death. It was as though I was transported back to ‘Lelong’ before the fire.

"Am I dead?" I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath. The words trembled on my lips, filled with a mix of fear and disbelief.

I turned my head and saw a figure standing in the warm glow. It felt like a gentle embrace, soothing my wounds and lifting the weight of my fear. Poppy looked just as I remembered her, with a gentle smile and eyes full of kindness.

"Poppy?" I asked, my voice trembling with disbelief.

"Yes, it's me," she replied, her voice like a soothing melody. "I'm here to help you."

The warmth spread through me, easing the pain and filling me with a sense of calm. But as I glanced out the bakery window, I saw the specter thrashing wildly, its form flickering with rage. The sight sent a shiver down my spine, the contrast between the warmth inside and the chaos outside stark and jarring. It was thrashing wildly, destroying everything in its path. The host's body—Mom—was grieving, believing she had killed her own son. The specter's rage and the host's sorrow clashed violently, tearing everything apart.

"I'm scared, Sis," I admitted, my voice shaking. "I don't know what to do. I'm injured, and everything feels hopeless."

Poppy knelt beside me, the flickering lightbulb casting long shadows on the stone walls. Her presence was like a gentle breeze on a hot day, soothing my fears. "Ellis, you've always been stronger than you realize. You have the power to save Mom and stop the specter. You just need to believe in yourself."

"But how?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper. My shoulders sagged under the invisible weight of doubt, my hands clenched into fists at my sides.

"Remember the love you have for Mom and the strength you found to fight for her," Poppy said, her voice filled with warmth. "That love is your greatest weapon. Use it to reach her, to remind her of who she is and who you are."

I took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of Poppy's words wrap around me like a comforting embrace. My legs quavered, but I forced myself to stand tall, my heart pounding with renewed resolve. Each beat echoed Poppy's encouragement, her smile and nod a beacon of hope.

"Go out these doors, Ellis. Save Mom. I know you can do it," Poppy said, her voice firm yet gentle. “Save Mom. You're the only one who can do it.”

Her words echoed in my mind as I turned the knob, ready to face the specter. The chaos around me seemed to fade, the noise dimming as my focus sharpened. The only thing that mattered was saving Mom. I had to reach her, to remind her of the love our family shared and the strength we had together.

***

"Mom!" I shouted, my voice cutting through the noise.

The specter's movements became sluggish, and a flicker of recognition sparked in Mom's eyes, like a spark of light in the darkness. I took a step closer, my heart pounding with hope. I had to be the one to end this lie.

Joy had once explained it to me—'co-dependence,' she called it. A dysfunctional dynamic where one person sacrifices their own needs for the other. I realized I was enabling Mom to repeat this cycle. By staying in this relationship, I was allowing Mom to repeat the same cycle over and over. I had to break it. Not just for her sake, but for her children's sake too.

"Is this really what Poppy and Ellis would want?" I asked, my voice breaking as tears streamed down her cheeks. The question made her pause, tears streaming down her cheeks. Despite her suffering, I could see the love she still held for her children in her eyes. "Your children loved you as much as you loved them."

Schnabelmaske's hold on Mom weakened, its bind faltering. My heart pounded like a war drum, each beat a surge of hope and determination. It struggled to maintain its grasp on Mom, but I knew I couldn't let it win. This creature was only filled with hate, but we didn't need any more.

"How would you know, you fake!" Lilac yelled at me, her voice sharp and accusing.

"But I do know..." Tears streamed down my cheeks, my voice breaking with raw emotion. Inside, a storm of grief and longing raged, each tear a testament to the memories I could never share. “Ellis may be gone, but his memories of the times with you, Poppy, and Dad still exist. I’m jealous. The good, the bad, even the painful. I’m jealous of the memories that you all shared together. I know that I can’t be a replacement, but you were an amazing mother to two wonderful children.”

As Schnabelmaske's link to Mom's mind grew fainter, it let out a guttural roar and launched one final desperate attack. It hurled itself at me with all its remaining force, its razor-sharp claw aimed at my flesh like a deadly spear. But instead of fear, a calm resolve settled over me. This was my chance to save Mom. My body trembled with a mix of fear and resolve as I stared into Schnabelmaske's glowing eyes, its massive claw coming closer and closer to my throat.

Then, suddenly, everything stopped. I looked around, my breath catching in my throat. Time had frozen. People, objects, even the air itself—everything was motionless. Everything except me and Schnabelmaske.

"Schnabelmaske, you don't belong here,” I yelled, my voice echoing in the stillness. “This family has suffered enough. It's time for you to leave.”

I could hear a faint sound of metal grinding against metal, as if some invisible mechanism was trying to restore the flow of time. But the creature fought back, its form flickering as it struggled to break free from the temporal stasis. A warm light enveloped me, soothing my wounds.

"You think you can banish me? I am the embodiment of their pain and sorrow. I will never leave until every last rodent is gone," Schnabelmaske screamed out as it released its final attack.

A gentle voice whispered in my ear, like a soft breeze on a summer day, filling me with a sense of peace. It was a voice I knew well, a voice I loved. As the voice faded, time began to move again, the monochrome nightmare slowly returning to color. The claw resumed its course, but I was ready. My muscles tensed, and my mind focused. I knew what I had to do.

I rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the claw, and sprang to my feet in one swift motion. Schnabelmaske lunged at me again, its form flickering with rage. I feinted to the left, then lunged right, aiming a kick at its knee. A spear grazed my arm, the pain sharp and immediate, but I couldn't afford to slow down. As Schnabelmaske lunged, I twisted, using its momentum against it to throw it off balance.

“Your children were happy to have an amazing mom like you. You don't need to suffer in this torment,” I said, my voice steady but filled with emotion. Someone had to shatter this illusion. It had to be me. "Because Poppy and Ellis would want you to be happy."

I spoke the truth. As soon as I said those words, Lilac collapsed on the floor as the dark energy faded from her body. She crumpled to the floor, her limbs limp and lifeless. I wasn't sure if I had the right to hug her as an imposter, but my body moved on its own, driven by a need to comfort her. Before I knew it, I found myself holding her tightly.