The words didn't come gently.
They never do.
Inside the dim, tired walls of the station, one of the officers finally said what everyone else had been avoiding.
"If we find him…" he paused, not out of empathy, but hesitation, "…he may not be alive."
It wasn't cruel.
It was worse.
It was casual.
Like stating the weather.
Matilda didn't react immediately. For a second, her face went still—empty, like something inside her had quietly broken beyond repair.
Then it came.
A sound.
Not a scream. Not a cry.
Something deeper.
Her knees gave way, and she collapsed onto the cold floor, clutching Cruz's small backpack against her chest as if she could press him back into existence.
"No… no… no…" she whispered, over and over, each repetition losing strength.
No one comforted her.
No one knew how.
Or maybe… no one tried.
Time passed.
No answers came.
No calls.
No miracle.
Just silence.
When she finally stood up, it wasn't with hope.
It was with decision.
She walked out of the station slowly, her steps heavy, like each one had already been rehearsed in her mind.
The rain had stopped.
The streets were empty.
And the world… continued.
That was the cruelest part.
The abandoned lake lay at the edge of the town—forgotten, neglected, avoided. The water was still, dark, reflecting nothing clearly. Even the wind seemed reluctant to disturb it.
Matilda stepped closer.
Her reflection trembled in the surface.
She didn't recognize herself.
"Why?" she whispered.
Her voice grew louder.
"WHY?"
The sound echoed across the empty space, breaking against the water and returning back to her.
"Why him? Why my son?" she cried, her voice cracking open. "What did he do? What did I do?"
She stepped into the water.
Cold.
It climbed her feet, her ankles, her legs.
Still she didn't stop.
"God…" she said, looking upward with anger, not faith. "You took everything from me. From the beginning… nothing but suffering…"
Her voice trembled, then hardened.
"Are you even there?"
Silence.
The kind that answers nothing.
Her breathing became uneven.
"Or…" she continued, her voice shifting into something desperate, almost mad, "are there other things?"
She looked around.
At the trees.
At the darkness.
At the still water.
"Demons? Ghosts? Anything…" she whispered, her voice breaking again. "If something exists… if anything is listening… bring him back… or take me instead…"
The lake swallowed her words.
No response.
No ripple.
Nothing.
Her eyes closed.
And she leaned forward.
The water took her.
Cold.
Heavy.
Final.
Seconds passed.
Or maybe longer.
Time blurred.
The surface remained still—
Until—
A sudden disturbance.
A ripple that didn't belong.
A movement beneath the water that was not hers.
Something pulled her.
Strong.
Unnatural.
Her body was dragged upward, forced back through the water, breaking the surface violently as she was thrown toward the shore.
She coughed, choking, gasping—
Air burned into her lungs.
She collapsed onto the muddy edge, trembling uncontrollably.
And then—
A sound.
Soft.
Weeping.
Matilda slowly lifted her head.
Standing a few feet away…
Was a woman.
Dressed entirely in white.
Her hair hung loose, soaked, clinging unnaturally to her face. Her shoulders trembled as she cried—not loudly, but continuously, like sorrow had no beginning and no end.
Matilda's breath stopped.
Fear replaced everything.
The woman didn't look at her at first.
She just… wept.
Then suddenly—
She raised her head.
Her face—
Pale.
Eyes hollow, yet filled with something too intense to understand.
And she screamed.
A sharp, piercing sound that cut through the night like something breaking between worlds.
Matilda recoiled in terror.
Her mind couldn't process it.
Her body couldn't react.
The last thing she saw was the white figure stepping closer—
Still crying.
Still watching.
Then—
Darkness.
Matilda fainted.
The lake returned to silence.
But something had answered her.
Not God.
Not human.
Something else.