CHAPTER : 17 The Night of Vanishing Blood

Veronica stared at him. His blond hair caught the faint glow of the hallway light, making his face look almost unreal. He was handsome, too handsome, and her chest tightened.

“M-Mama…” she whispered without meaning to.

Eran tilted his head. “I’m not your mama. I’m Eran.”

Her cheeks burned hot. “I-I… meant… I’m Veronica. Not Mama. Veronica.”

“So your name is Veronica,” he said softly, his lips curling into a faint smile. “It’s a pretty name.”

Her lips trembled. “M-Mama…” she whispered again, embarrassed by her own slip.

From downstairs, her mother’s voice cut in: “Veronica, take him to your room.”

“Yes, Mama.”

She led him upstairs. His gaze wandered around her room until it landed on the doll sitting upright on the side table.

“You still play with dolls?” he asked, half-teasing. “Are you a kid?”

Veronica’s eyes widened in anger. “Hey! I am still a kid.”

“How old are you?”

“Twelve. But I’ll be thirteen next week.”

Eran smirked. “Thirteen-year-olds don’t play with dolls.”

Her fists clenched. “Do you want a punch from me?”

Instead of answering, he sat casually on her bed.

“Get off my bed and get lost!” she snapped.

He stood, chuckling faintly, and walked out.

As she went up the stairs later, Elizabeth appeared suddenly, her presence heavy in the air.

“You know who  he was?” Elizabeth asked softly.

Veronica said. “No… do you?”

Elizabeth’s eyes glimmered with a strange knowledge. “Yes. He was the great-great-great-great-grandson of my boyfriend.”

Veronica froze. “…That’s how you came to me?”

Elizabeth gave the faintest nod. Her expression was unreadable.

Veronica didn’t think. She jumped forward and kissed Elizabeth full on the lips.

Elizabeth’s eyes widened in shock, and her body stiffened. She hadn’t expected it, hadn’t planned for it. But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she froze, her breath caught in her throat, her eyes flicking across Veronica’s face as if searching for an answer.

When Veronica pulled back, their eyes locked.

Elizabeth’s gaze wavered part confusion, part something else she couldn’t admit. The silence between them grew thick, trembling with unspoken words neither dared to speak.

“Sweetie, dinner’s ready!” her mother’s voice called up the stairs.

Veronica tore herself away. “Coming, Mama!” she shouted, her face flushed.

The moment vanished. She rushed down, ate quickly, then darted back upstairs.

“Gooood night, Mamaaa!” she yelled.

Her mother laughed from downstairs. “Good night, sweetheart.”

But Elizabeth was gone.

The room felt empty. Veronica collapsed on her bed, hugging her pillow tight.

Then pain. A searing burn rippled across her skin. Her eyes snapped open.

Someone was lying beside her.

Veronica thought that person was Elizabeth, but it was Eran.

The matchstick in his hand glowed faintly, the flame licking the air. The burn spread across her body.

“You’re trying to burn me…” she whispered.

Instead of recoiling, she pressed her forehead gently against his. “It’ll be okay…” she murmured.

The burn on her body shimmered, then disappeared before his wide eyes.

Eran’s breath caught. “W-what are you…?”

Veronica’s fingers tightened around the knife she had hidden. She raised it. Eran shoved her hard, trying to bolt, only to find his legs wouldn’t move. Something invisible tied him down.

“No, no! Let me go!” he screamed.

Veronica leapt, pinning him. Her eyes glowed with feral madness. She drove the knife down, again and again, ripping at his face, trying to gouge his eyes. His screams pierced the house, sharp and bloody.

She slashed his arms. His legs. Blood soaked the bed as his cries broke into sobs.

Her mother, hearing the sounds, rushed upstairs.

“Veronica!” she screamed, horrified.

Veronica turned toward her—shaking, drenched in blood. Then she collapsed.

Her mother caught her, dragging her trembling body to the bathroom. She placed Veronica in the tub, washing the blood from her skin.

When she returned to the bedroom, her blood ran cold.

The body was gone.
The knife was gone.
The blood was gone.

Everything was clean, spotless, normal.

“Mamaaa…” Veronica’s soft voice came from the bathroom. “Why did you make me wet?”

Her mother froze. Veronica’s innocent eyes stared back at her, no blood in the water.

“…Nothing, sweetheart,” her mother whispered, though her hands shook. She wanted to ask, but she couldn’t.

That night, she lay beside her daughter, holding her close.

“Tomorrow you’re going to school,” she said softly.

“Nooo, Mama! Why?  You already have so many holidays, that's why.”

Then her mother brushed her hair. “Because tomorrow is a surprise.”

“A surprise? Tell meee!” Veronica begged.

“You’ll see in school,” her mother whispered. “Now close your eyes.”

Veronica pouted, but obeyed. Slowly, her breathing steadied, and she drifted into sleep.