When her feet touched solid ground again, Carrie's knees buckled.
The ground felt strange... too solid.
She was still completely immersed in the reverberation of the experience, a stupor that was less confusion and more awe.
That feeling of completely freeing herself from gravity, of being embraced by the open sky...
It left a lingering aftertaste in her mind, a lightness that seemed to have recalibrated her soul, making everything that once anchored her seem insignificant.
They stayed in the forest clearing, enveloped by a silence broken only by the whisper of the wind in the treetops. The light was already scarce, and the last glimmers of the sunset filtered through the dense foliage.
"Well?" Leif's voice pulled her out of that reverie.
"I..." Carrie opened her mouth, but the words felt clumsy, cheap.
She found that language was desperately poor, incapable of capturing the magnitude of the shock and pure joy she had just experienced.
So, instead of speaking, she could only nod firmly, over and over. She looked up at him, and her blue eyes, which were usually shy and elusive, now shone with a crystalline, unwavering sparkle, as if the entire galaxy had poured into them.
"Thank you, Leif."
That gratitude was for much more than a marvelous flight. It was for the revelation he had given her, that tangible feeling that her problems were small, and that she, somehow, was not.
Leif simply gave her a small smile, understanding everything she hadn't said.
They left the woods walking side by side.
The path back home was bathed in the gloom, and a comfortable silence settled between them.
Several times, Carrie felt an overwhelming urge to say something more. But each time the words reached her tongue, they were swallowed back down.
So, instead of speaking, she allowed herself to glance sideways, very discreetly, at the profile of the boy walking beside her, imprinting that calm silhouette in the twilight deep into her heart.
...
As soon as the front door opened, the warm, familiar aroma of roast chicken flooded the hall, instantly enveloping them.
In the living room, Lillith was huddled on the sofa, hugging a teddy bear that was almost bigger than her, her gaze mesmerized by the bright colors of some cartoons.
!
But as soon as she heard the sound of the key in the lock, the bear was discarded without ceremony.
"Brother, you're back!"
The "girl" shot off the sofa like a small cannonball and crashed against Leif's leg, clinging with surprising strength.
She lifted her small face toward him, unfolding a smile so sweet and radiant it bordered on cloying.
Leif automatically ruffled her hair, while a part of him couldn't help but admire how this demon's "adorable child" act improved day by day.
"Leif, Carrie, good thing you're here! Wash your hands, dinner is almost ready," came the soft voice of Sarah, his mother, from the kitchen.
In the dining room, John, his father, was sitting at the head of the table, glancing through the newspaper while the newscast murmured on the corner television. Just then, Sarah entered with a steaming tray holding a perfectly golden roasted chicken.
The scene was the quintessential domestic calm; the warm light of the lamp over the table, the steam rising from the food, and the sound of cutlery.
They sat down, and once everyone had their plates served, Leif took a sip of water, preparing to talk about the camp.
"Hey, Dad, Mom," he said, as if he had just remembered, "the school is organizing this year's summer camp, and I was thinking of signing up."
"Oh, really? Summer camp?" John lowered the newspaper, his interest clearly captured. "And where are you going this time?"
"Crystal Lake Camp."
"Crystal Lake?"
Sarah's hand, holding the salad bowl, stopped halfway. "That place sounds familiar... and I'm not sure it's for anything good. Isn't that the place they tell... stories about?"
"Mom, those are just urban legends," Leif quickly retorted, putting on his best 'don't be dramatic' face. "That was years ago. They've completely renovated it; it's super safe now. Besides, it's an official school activity, you know, to foster companionship and things like that."
The argument seemed to convince John, who nodded approvingly. "Sarah, don't get so nervous about everything. The kids need to get out and see the world. If they stay cooped up, they'll atrophy. How much does it cost?"
"The registration is three hundred dollars for the full week," Leif said, and then, as if it were a minor detail, he added: "Carrie is going too."
Carrie's name instantly changed Sarah's tone.
Her concern softened, and she looked at the girl warmly. "Really, honey? You're going too? Oh, that's wonderful! That way you can at least keep each other company." However, her expression wavered, knowing Carrie's delicate family situation. Her next words were softer, full of a concern she tried to hide. "And... are you sure you can...?"
"Her mother left her some money," Leif intervened calmly, completely skipping the detail of the psychiatric hospital. "She said it was perfectly enough."
Sarah let out an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. Then, she gave John a sideways glance, blaming him for his lack of financial tact. She wiped her hands on her apron, took her wallet from her pocket, counted the bills, and pulled out five hundred-dollar bills.
"Here, five hundred," she said, handing them to Leif. "Three hundred are for the registration. Take the other two hundred as pocket money. And I ask you, please, Leif, try not to live on burgers and fries all week."
"Thanks, Mom, you're the best in the world!" Leif did not spare the compliments, receiving the bills and succeeding in making Sarah smile, satisfied with her role.
John, who had observed the entire exchange with an amused smile, cleared his throat. "Well, since we're talking about trips," he said, folding the newspaper carefully, "it turns out your mother and I were also planning to go away for a while."
Leif looked up from the bills, genuinely surprised. "Huh?"
"I have to take care of a rather complex legal case in the city," Sarah explained as she stacked the dishes. "I'm afraid it will take me at least a week to resolve."
"And since, miraculously, my schedule has cleared up precisely during those dates," John added, giving his wife a knowing look, "I've decided I'm going to accompany her. We'll take it as a second honeymoon."
"Please, John! We've been married half our lives, what honeymoon are you talking about?" Sarah grumbled, but a slight blush she couldn't hide tinged her cheeks.
"Wait a minute," Leif intervened, setting his fork on the plate. "And what are you going to do with Lillith?"
The question seemed to bring Sarah back to reality. "Ah, yes. That's exactly what we wanted to talk to you about," she said, her expression growing more serious. "You're leaving for camp almost at the same time we're leaving for the city. It's unthinkable to leave Lillith alone at home, so... we've decided to look for a temporary babysitter. Someone who can come and stay with her that week."
Leif's expression froze.
A babysitter...? To look after Lillith?
His gaze instinctively traveled toward the child, who at that precise moment was burying her face in her mound of mashed potatoes with absolute concentration, oblivious to the conversation.
That creature, who from the outside seemed the epitome of adorable innocence, was, in reality, a demon in every sense of the word.
Leif could almost taste the tragedy to come.
He could visualize the poor, unsuspecting babysitter.
In the best-case scenario, she would flee within two days, traumatized and babbling incoherently. In the worst, she would end up institutionalized in a sanitarium, doubting her own existence.
'The question is who is going to look after whom,' Leif thought to himself, suppressing a grimace. 'Lillith might end up taking charge of the babysitter's three meals and her mental health.'
"What is it, honey? Don't you think it's a good idea?" Sarah's worried voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
She had noticed his strange expression.
"No, no, not at all. I think it's... perfect," Leif rushed to say, forcing the most convincing smile he could manage. "I'm sure Lillith and the new babysitter will get along wonderfully."
Just then, Lillith looked up. Half her face was covered in mashed potatoes. She blinked slowly, her large eyes fixed on Leif, and then gave him an incredibly sweet smile.
But hidden in that smile, Leif could detect an imperceptible spark of mischief.
He felt a chill run down his spine.
...
Once the dishes were cleared, night had completely enveloped the small town.
Leif went out for a walk with Carrie, taking the opportunity to find a place to train his telekinesis a bit. Carrie had put on comfortable sports clothes, and she looked a little tense.
"Is Lillith coming too?" she asked, somewhat surprised, seeing the girl put on her boots and follow them to the door.
"She was bored at home," Leif replied dismissively. "Besides, it won't hurt her to see this."
They headed toward the outskirts of town, taking advantage of the darkness to venture into the wooded area they already knew.
The moonlight was scarce, filtering faintly through scattered clouds, barely enough to paint the path with a layer of silver frost.
The silence of the forest was dense, a living silence that was only interrupted by the sporadic chirping of some nocturnal insect and the whisper of the wind moving through the tall treetops.
________
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