Episode 19 — The Birds don’t scream, they screech in Pain

Sasha’s breath caught in her throat. Choose…

The word echoed like a death knell, louder than the thundering of her heart.

Her gaze flickered over her friends—Tania and Anya holding up Robin, her holding the gun. Michael frozen in place. Kovac still limping from where the Suit had hurled him aside, Jasmine hovering at his shoulder.

Mathers and Clara had not yet spoken but the look in his father’s eyes was too vague to decipher. Was he sad? Angry? Or Guilty?

Then the smell hit her —burnt flesh and scorching wood mixed together.

She heard the roar of the crowd.

Saw her mother —the so-called Witch —as the flames licked at her skin.

Sasha remembered clutching her doll that day, its stitched head tilting unnaturally toward her.
Her mother silent through all of it.

Sasha flinched, her stomach twisting violently as she stumbled to her knees, gasping. She’d seen these visions before, but it felt sharper now, the Witch’s presence making every memory bite deeper.

Glimpses now bled together—Kovac tying her mother with rope. Robin’s face younger, twisted with grim determination as she lit the pyre. Arlon turning away from the flames. Clara shouting at Mathers to pour more fire onto the inferno.

Still, her mother didn’t scream.

Sasha gazed at the Witch’s buttoned eyes struggling to breathe.

They killed her. Burned her alive and lied about it. Her mother was the victim.

….Wait.

She didn’t scream.

How was that possible?

She saw the doll again in her small hands, its button‑black eyes flicking toward her. But that couldn’t be right…

From what she was told, the doll hadn’t fully ‘taken over’ until years later. 

But if that was true...

How was her mother even standing here now?

“My daughter,” the Witch said softly, eyes glowing like embers. “What is your answer?”

Sasha looked into her mother’s face—those stitched, lifeless eyes.
The same as the doll. Exactly the same.

A bitter chuckle slipped from her lips, then twisted into a cold laugh.

“Sasha?” Tania asked warily. “Are you… okay?”

“You never screamed,” Sasha whispered, ignoring her. She looked at the Witch directly.

The Witch tilted her head, expression unreadable. “What are you going on about?”

“I don’t know why I couldn’t see it before.” Sasha’s voice sharpened. “I’ve never been burned alive, but I know it’s extremely painful. So why wasn’t it for you?”

Her breath hitched, but her gaze didn’t waver. “It’s because you weren’t really there.”

The Witch’s smile widened slowly, razor‑sharp and satisfied.
“Is that what you believe?”

“Yeah.” Sasha took a step forward. Her fingers were trembling, but she didn’t care. “I remember now. The doll looked at me…the same way you are now. But you’d already moved your soul into the doll before they burned you.”

“I did say you were smart…but even I didn’t think you would connect that piece,” The Witch said almost lovingly. “I won’t bore you with the details but I could teach you how to do it, if you want.

Mathers’ voice was low but laced with anger. “The deal… everything… it was just a game to you. An elaborate way to punish us.”

The Witch’s laughter was soft but full of bite. “A game? No, Pastor, it wasn’t elaborate at all. It took my daughter, what… a few hours to figure out. The reason you couldn’t was…. your arrogance.”

She smirked. “I resurrected a woman’s child from death, and you thought a simple flame was enough to take me down. But that’s what people like you do. You cling to the illusion of power while denying those with true power from existing. All I had to do was stand still and let you destroy yourselves. And when you finally came crawling to me for salvation? The look on your faces…It was spectacular.”

“This was all a setup,” Clara spoke for the first time, her jaw tightening. “You never planned on letting us go, did you? We were pawns to you.”

The Witch let out a soft laugh. “Pawns?” she echoed. “Oh, you give yourselves too much credit. Pawns are useful. You…” Her gaze swept the group lazily. “…you were merely entertainment.”

“You mother…” Robin sneered aiming the shotgun towards the Witch.

But before the shot could fire, the Chained Suit moved.

It wrapped its chains around the barrel with bone-crushing force. The shotgun hissed as it burned. Robin cursed and released it just as the weapon dissolved into slag, clattering to the ground in a twisted heap. 

The Witch cackled. “So predictable, as always, Robin,” she said, each word dripping with satisfaction.

“I thought you were smarter than that,” the Witch purred. “If you couldn’t kill me then, what makes you think you can now?”

Robin glared at her, chest heaving, but didn’t move.

Sasha exhaled shakily. “Mother…” She hesitated, the word feeling like splinters on her tongue. “It still feels strange to call you that. My mother.”

She drew in a breath, steadying herself. “I won’t pretend what happened to you was just—because it wasn’t. But what you’re doing to this town… I can’t excuse that either. You’ve gotten your revenge, ten times over. I don’t understand why you still want to keep going. It’s time for you to rest now.”

The Witch regarded her daughter for a long, quiet moment. Then, when she spoke, her tone softened, almost tender.

“I would never ask you to understand me, child,” she said. “But you must understand this: this town is a sickness. It rots from the inside out, just as it rotted me. And like any sickness, it must be burned away before it spreads again. This is no mere revenge, it’s an important lesson they must learn and I’m prepared to cast my soul into the darkest depths of hell for this to finally end.”

Michael stepped forward, voice cutting through the tension. “But what then?” he demanded. “If you kill everyone, who’s left to learn your so-called lesson? Who will even remember what happened here?”

“That question is irrelevant,” the Witch replied without hesitation.

“Irrelevant?!” Tania barked a harsh laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me? It has everything to do with it! You’re so blinded by your own hatred, you can’t even see the hole in your logic!”

The Witch’s head snapped toward her, eyes flashing. “Hatred?” she echoed, her voice shaking the walls. “What does a child like you know of hatred? You know nothing of the real world, only the fragile illusions you share with your friends. I... am a blade…sharpened by true hatred and the merciful thing to do…is strike at the source of that hatred.”

“Merciful?” Jasmine spoke calmly. “You call this mercy? You’ve terrorized innocent people for the sins of a few. People who had nothing to do with what happened to you. Deep down, you must know this is wrong.”

“Innocence?” The Witch smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “Do you think the flames that nearly consumed me cared about innocence? Do you think the town cared? There is no innocence, only those who have yet to face the pyre.”

Sasha swallowed hard. Her mother’s words burrowed into her chest, heavy and suffocating. She looked at her friends, then at the Witch, and for the first time, she didn’t know whose side she stood on.

“Daughter,” the Witch whispered, voice like a lullaby. “You see it, don’t you? You were born in this town, unloved, discarded…even by me. Do you think they will ever see you as more than my daughter? Should they live, they will only persecute you for what I have done. They will burn you and forget. If nothing else, you must understand that.”

Sasha’s heart pounded in her chest. She stared at the hand—at the face that was both a stranger’s and her own.

The Witch’s words felt true. Her words were in her mind echoing louder with each passing breath.

They don’t care about you.

They will burn you.

You were never wanted

She wanted to believe that wasn’t true, but the Witch’s voice felt like it was pulling at every old wound she’d ever carried.

Sasha’s breath came in shallow bursts. “I…”

“She won’t be alone,” Michael cut in firmly, stepping closer. “I am here. I will always be by her side. Not because of where she comes from or what deals were made. But because of who she is as a person.”

The Witch’s eyes flicked between the two of them, scoffing. “Pretty words. And what happens when the town spits in her face the way they did to me? Will you still be by her side or will you cast her aside?”

Sasha looked away, her eyes distant. “She’s right. I’m not like you. You all have a place you belong. I’m…”

“No,” Tania cut her off sharply, stepped forward and gripped Sasha’s shoulder, forcing her to meet her eyes. “Hey. Listen to me. You’re not her, Sasha. You don’t have to carry her pain. You’ve got us and I swear on my life, I’m not letting you go.”

Anya moved in closer, too no longer shaking. “She’s right,” she said softly. “We love you and we’re ready to fight and die for you.”

“You’re family, Sasha,” Jasmine said, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Whether you believe it or not, that’s never going to change. Not now, not ever. You belong with us.”

Sasha’s breath came out in a shudder, her chest tightening.

The Witch’s gaze swept over them with cold disdain. ”Love? Is that you’re best argument? Love is only for fools, it will only break you in the end.”

Tania glared at her. “Maybe. But we’ll break together, and we’ll get back up together.”

Sasha felt the Witch’s words unravel inside her, replaced by the warmth of her friends’ voices. The pain didn’t disappear, but it was lighter now—bearable.

For the first time, it felt like she didn’t have to face this alone.