Months passed, and my life had fallen into a strange rhythm. Nightmares haunted me every night, dragging me back to blood and shadows, but the days… the days were lighter. With Carm and Jela beside me, I could laugh, smile, and almost forget what I had lost. Almost.
And today was special.
It was September 5—Jela's birthday. She was turning thirteen, the youngest of our trio, though only by a few months. Carm was the oldest, ever the self-appointed "big sister," while I sat in the middle.
Jela had invited us to her house for the celebration. I'd been there before—Carm and I often dropped by whenever Jela dragged us over after school—but today felt different. Festive. Important.
Her parents greeted us at the door, warmth in their smiles, energy in their voices. They were so much like Jela that it was impossible not to see the resemblance, not just in their faces but in their personalities too. Loud, welcoming, and a little wild. And yes—they had the same claws as their daughter, though thankfully they kept them sheathed when they hugged us in greeting.
I had prepared a small gift for Jela: a set of nail accessories I had saved up for. She loved showing off her claws, and I thought it would suit her perfectly. The way her eyes lit up when she unwrapped it made every peso worth it.
Carm, of course, had brought her own gift—but she refused to tell us what it was. "Wait for the surprise," she teased, smugly hugging the wrapped box to her chest.
The house was alive with laughter and chatter. Relatives filled the rooms, cousins darted through the hallways, and the smell of food drifted from the kitchen—savory, sweet, comforting. It felt… homely.
When it came time to blow out the candles, everyone gathered around the table. Jela stood tall, grinning ear to ear as Carm and I flanked her sides. The cake gleamed with thirteen little flames, and together we sang the birthday song, our voices joining the chorus of her family.
"Make a wish," Carm whispered.
Jela squeezed her eyes shut, her hands pressed together for a moment before she leaned forward and blew. The candles went out, and cheers erupted all around.
But of course, Jela couldn't let the moment end without chaos.
She swiped a finger through the frosting and, before I could dodge, smeared it across my cheek. The cold sweetness surprised me, and I burst out laughing despite myself.
Carm, however, was less forgiving. "You little brat!" she shouted, lunging at Jela.
In an instant, the birthday party turned into a wrestling match. Carm pinned Jela halfway across the living room, both of them laughing and shouting as the relatives egged them on. I tried to intervene but ended up doubled over, laughing so hard my sides hurt.
After the playful chaos, the party shifted to the dining table. And what a feast it was.
Plates of golden fried pork, roasted turkey, and bowls piled high with food covered the table from end to end. Jela's family clearly had an appetite to match their energy. I don't think I had ever seen so much food in one place before. The three of us squeezed in together, laughing as we passed plates back and forth, stealing bites from one another's dishes.
As we ate, Carm finally slid her gift across the table. Jela tore into the wrapping eagerly—and froze when she pulled out a small, spiky red collar.
"What… is this?" Jela tilted her head, confused.
I blinked at it too, unsure whether to laugh or ask questions. "Um… Carm? Did you just buy her a weapon? Or… fashion?"
Before Carm could answer, Jela's parents approached with knowing smiles. "It's not for you, sweetie," her mom said, hiding something behind her back.
Her dad whistled, and a tiny black puppy bounded into the room, its tail wagging so fast it looked like a blur. Jela's eyes widened as the dog leapt into her arms, licking her face.
"Happy birthday!" her parents cheered.
Jela squealed, hugging the puppy tightly. "Oh my gosh! He's perfect!" she cried, her voice almost cracking with joy.
Carm smirked, satisfied. "See? I knew my gift would make sense."
I laughed, warmth filling my chest as I watched Jela cuddling her new friend. In that moment, surrounded by food, laughter, and love, it felt like the world was finally okay.
Maybe this—right here—was the best moment of our lives.
As the night wound down, Carm and I were picked up by our parents. At the gate, we hugged Jela tightly one last time, wishing her a happy birthday again before heading to our cars.
In the back seat, I leaned my head against the window, replaying the joy of the day—the laughter, the food, the gifts, the warmth of her family. It reminded me so much of the dinners I used to have with my own family.
That's when it hit me.
A sharp panic clawed at my chest. My breathing turned shallow, my throat constricting like invisible hands were choking me. My heart hammered, pounding so loud it drowned out everything else. I coughed, gasping, my body shaking uncontrollably.
"Lena!" my mom cried, her voice breaking.
My dad slammed on the brakes, pulling the car to the side of the road. The world blurred around me—streetlights stretching into streaks of gold, voices muffled as if underwater.
I clutched my chest, nails digging into my skin. My mind was no longer in the car. I was back there. Back at the dinner table. My mother's scream. My father's blood. The smell of iron filling the room. My siblings' terrified faces.
"No… no, no, no—" The words tumbled out, strangled and broken.
"Breathe, sweetheart, breathe!" my mom begged, her hands trembling as she tried to steady me. My dad reached over from the driver's seat, his palm on my back, firm but helpless.
But I couldn't breathe. Each inhale scraped like glass in my throat, and each exhale came out as a sob. Tears blurred my vision until everything was just a swirl of lights and shadows.
The harder I tried to calm down, the worse it got. My body shook violently, chest heaving, vision tunneling into black. Fear and grief twisted together, suffocating me.
And then—darkness.
When I opened my eyes again, I was in my room, lying in bed. My blankets were tucked tightly around me, and the faint sound of my adoptive parents' voices carried through the door—soft, worried, exhausted.
Safe. That's what I told myself. Safe.
The morning after Jela's birthday, I woke up with the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me. My body still ached from the panic attack, though I pretended otherwise. At breakfast, my adoptive parents were gentle, their eyes searching mine for cracks I didn't want them to see.
"I'm fine," I told them, forcing a smile as I poked at my food.
They didn't believe me—of course they didn't—but they didn't press. Maybe they thought silence was mercy. Maybe they were right.
At school, the usual chaos greeted me. Students bustled through the hallways, their laughter and chatter bouncing off the walls. It was the kind of noise that should have been comforting, ordinary, but for me it was overwhelming. Each voice seemed too sharp, each laugh too loud.
"Hey, top scorer!" someone called. A boy from class waved at me with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. I forced a small wave back. The exams had made me "popular," but not in a way that mattered. Their friendliness was shallow, as fragile as glass.
The only ones who mattered were waiting for me by the classroom door.
"Finally! You're late again," Carm said, crossing her arms. She always acted tough, but the way her eyes softened when she saw me gave her away.
"Morning, birthday girl's bestie!" Jela chimed in, bouncing on her toes. She was still glowing from last night, talking nonstop about her new puppy. "I named him Spike! Isn't that perfect? Oh, and he already chewed through one slipper. My mom wasn't happy, but I think it's adorable."
Her energy was infectious, but I found myself struggling to match it. My laugh came out thinner than I intended, and Carm's sharp gaze flicked toward me immediately.
"You okay?" she asked quietly, so Jela wouldn't hear.
"I'm fine," I lied.
But Carm wasn't convinced.
Classes dragged on, though I managed to keep my grades perfect. On the outside, I looked like the same old Lena—studious, focused, untouchable. On the inside, I was counting breaths, trying to keep my heart steady.
At lunch, we sat under the old acacia tree in the schoolyard. It had become our spot, a place where the noise of the school seemed a little farther away.
Jela was busy feeding crumbs of bread to a pair of birds, while Carm scrolled through her notebook filled with equations. I sat quietly, eating slowly, my eyes drifting over the crowd of students in the yard.
And then I saw it—just a flash. A father leading his child across the school gate, hand in hand. The way the girl clung to him, the way he ruffled her hair.
Something inside me cracked.
My chest tightened, breath catching. I dropped my spoon, my hands trembling.
"Lena?" Jela turned quickly, her voice worried.
I forced myself to smile, shaking my head. "I'm fine. Just… spaced out."
But Carm wasn't fooled. She reached over and placed her hand over mine, stilling the tremors. "You're not fine," she said softly. "But that's okay. You don't have to be."
For a moment, I wanted to tell them everything. The blood. The screams. The faces of my siblings that still haunted my dreams. But the words stuck in my throat like glass shards.
Instead, I just nodded.
They didn't push. They never did. Maybe that's why I could breathe again, if only for a little while.
That night, the nightmares returned. They always did. But as I lay awake afterward, staring at the ceiling, I realized something.
Even though the past still chained me down, even though I couldn't escape it yet… I wasn't alone anymore.
Carm and Jela were my anchors. My light.
And maybe, just maybe, that was enough to keep me standing.