Chapter2:The Wound
Despite its perfect flavor, breakfast stuck in his throat. Duncan pushed the eggs around with his fork, listening to the distant crackling of the bacon as if it were an echo of his own unease. The mark on his shoulder seemed to throb beneath the fabric of his shirt, a persistent reminder.
From across the table, Elaine watched him with that look that saw everything and yet seemed determined to see only what she wanted to see. Her serene beauty, wrapped in the revealing silk of her robe, was a familiar sight that today felt oppressive.
"Baby," she began, her voice a thread of honey and concern. "What are your plans for the holidays? Don't you think you should start working on yourself a little? There's a really good gym in the new mall that opened in town. I know you might be a little depressed about what happened with Sofia, that mean girl who just used you..."
Duncan slumped in his seat, his shoulders rising almost to his ears. The name was a pinch in a place that was already sensitive.
Seeing his reaction, Elaine let out a sigh laden with maternal guilt.
"I'm sorry, honey, for reminding you of that bad experience. I'm just angry about what she did."
"I don't know, Mom," Duncan interrupted, finally looking up. His eyes, behind his glasses, had a new spark of stubbornness. "I don't think she did it on purpose." I'm sure it was just an accident. Anything could happen these days, in the middle of 2026. Almost nothing surprises me anymore."
The justification sounded weak, even to his own ears, but he blurted it out as a shield. He couldn't accept the simple narrative of betrayal. There was something else, a strange intuition that intertwined with the fog of his dream and the mark on his skin.
The mocking laughter came like a whip from the kitchen doorway. Tiffany leaned against the doorframe, already dressed in tight jeans and a T-shirt that left little to the imagination, a smile of superiority painted on her lips.
"Don't be a simpleton," she snapped directly at Duncan, the word falling like a precise insult. She was only with you because you're a nerd and you helped her pass the year. That's all. Don't get your hopes up. Like your sister, I have an obligation to tell you. Oh, God.
At that moment, something inside Duncan snapped. It wasn't just the mockery, it was a strange feeling that altered his reality. He rose from the table with a sudden movement, making the chair squeak.
"And what do you know? Nothing!" he said, his voice firmer than he expected. "I won't be sure until I see her and ask her. No. I'll be sure."
With strong, determined steps, he walked away from the table, from the kitchen, from the two women who, for some reason, were suffocating him today. He needed air and peace and quiet, and he already knew where to go: the forest.
"Duncan, honey, wait! Don't get angry!" Elaine managed to shout, but she could already hear the front door slamming shut with a loud bang.
A tense silence filled the kitchen. Tiffany approached the table with an expression of disbelief. What's wrong with him? She said a little angrily, as it was the first time he had acted that way in response to her teasing. Normally, he just ignores her and looks for a way to get her in trouble. "I bet he likes that bitch," Tiffany said through clenched teeth, somewhat annoyed by that thought. "You couldn't have said it in a nicer way," Elaine scolded her. "Mom, if he doesn't learn the easy way, he'll learn the hard way. You protect him too much. That way, he'll never do anything for himself. He has to grow up and see things as they are," she said angrily and a little hurt, because in her heart she didn't want to make him so angry, since she loves him very much and if he got mad at her and didn't talk to her, she would feel bad about it.
Elaine looked down at her coffee cup, a shadow of discomfort crossing her face.
"You're right. I spoil him too much. I just don't want him to get his hopes up and then end up like..." Her voice broke. She paused, swallowing. "Wait a minute before you go on, I..."
"Mom." Tiffany approached her, and this time there was no mockery in her tone, only an extremely tender voice. She wrapped her in a hug. "Calm down. That stupid bastard of a father doesn't deserve your tears." She kissed her softly on the forehead.
Elaine let out a shaky sigh.
"I know, sweetheart."
"And besides," Tiffany continued, stepping back a little to look her in the eyes, "you're a strong, confident woman who raised a family of three after your parents kicked you out of the house with a baby in your arms and another on the way without you even realizing it. But now you own your own business as the best lawyer around, and you're still moving forward. I love you, Mom. I want to be like you. You'll see, I'll graduate and help you with the business."
The words, sincere and full of admiration, were the key that opened the floodgates. The tears Elaine had been holding back flowed silently down her cheeks.
"My baby... you're so good to Mommy.
"Ooh, don't cry, because if you do, I'll cry too," said Tiffany, pouting exaggeratedly, and suddenly her own green eyes filled with tears. It wasn't tragic crying, but one of that visceral and slightly theatrical empathy they sometimes had.
And so they remained, mother and daughter embracing in the middle of the kitchen, crying together in a scene that was at once funny, comforting, and deeply melancholic. A small universe of female complicity and shared pain, from which Duncan, in his flight into the mystery of the forest, had once again exiled himself.
Meanwhile, outside, the morning air greeted Duncan with a cold blast. He quickened his pace, heading without hesitation toward the line of trees at the end of the street. The conversation, the tears, the doubts about Sofia... it was all behind him now, reduced to a distant echo. The only thing that was real, the only thing that was urgent, was the clearing among the oak trees and the truth that, he was sure, awaited him there.
The dirt road stretched out before Duncan, dusty and empty in the relentless morning light. He walked quickly, the anger in his chest like a second brand of fire.
"Because I got mad at my sister," he muttered under his breath, kicking a stone that shot across the road like a bullet. Duncan didn't realize what he had done. "Just because you're beautiful and have a nice body, you dare to say things that could kill a person with depression. You're lucky I'm a kind-hearted gentleman and I don't do anything to you... because Mom, with her beautiful presence, calmed me down a little..."
Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks. His feet were rooted to the spot. A chill that had nothing to do with the heat ran through him.
"Why am I thinking like this?" he whispered to himself, his voice thick with confusion that overwhelmed him. "What's suddenly happening to me? And why do I feel... bold with my sister and my mother? Suddenly..."
The pain in his shoulder, which had been a dull throb, suddenly intensified, as if an invisible claw were squeezing it from inside the bone. Duncan brought a hand to the spot, gasping.
"I don't like this. My emotions are getting out of control. I've never raised my voice. No matter how many jokes my sister made and how much it bothered me, I would never have gotten angry with her for it. Yes, I felt bad about what happened with Sofia, but... why do I feel SO bad?"
A new, sharp, stabbing pain shot through his temple. He doubled over at the waist, a groan escaping his lips. In that moment of agony, a memory burst into his mind, not as a thought, but as a vivid, forgotten scene.
They were at her house, sitting next to each other on the sofa, textbooks open on the coffee table. The afternoon sun streamed through the window. Sofia leaned over, her warm breath brushing his ear, and whispered with a sensuality that was unusual for her: "Duncan, you'll never get angry with me. Right? And despite everything, you'll defend me." Yes, you won't believe what others tell you. Drink."
The memory was so intense, so charged with a strange promise, that the pain in his head exploded into a blinding whiteness.
AAAGH!
The hoarse, torn cry broke the silence of the road. Duncan fell to his knees, his hands clutching his head in despair. "What's wrong with me?" he managed to say in a voice he didn't recognize, gasping and full of panic.
Eternal minutes passed before the pain subsided to a dull throb. Gasping for breath, he stood up, unsteady on his feet. He looked around. The road was deserted. He had walked without realizing it and was already approaching the same shortcut, the path that led into the forest, the same one from that night.
A force greater than his fear drove him on. He took the shortcut.
In the clearing, in the morning light, everything seemed normal. Too normal. He looked around, scanning the ground, the trees. There was no blood. There were no broken branches. There was no trace of the violence he was sure had taken place. Only earth, dry leaves, and the whisper of the wind in the treetops. The denial of the evidence his body remembered left him emptier than fear.
That's when he heard it.
Aauuuu...
A long, melancholic howl rose from deep within the forest. It wasn't just any wolf's howl. It had a musical quality, almost like a call. And instead of being frightened, Duncan felt something incredible: a resonance. As if that sound vibrated at the same frequency as the pain in his shoulder. He felt, with visceral certainty, that it was calling him. And he knew he had to go.
He began to walk, first with a clear goal, then in a kind of trance. The trees grew denser, the light filtering through in diagonal beams. "I thought I was coming to... to what?" he muttered, disoriented. "W-where am I? Am I... lost? Shit! Is anyone there? Help!"
His call, like himself, was lost among the trees and the sounds of nature. Panic began to take hold of him, a lump forming in his throat. He wandered aimlessly, tears welling up in his eyes. "Why is this happening to me? This is because of this morning's argument with my sister," he said aloud, his voice breaking. "I won't do it again, I promise. I don't know what came over me."
It was at that moment of surrender that a new sound reached his ears. Not a howl, but something liquid, constant, thunderous. The sound of falling water.
His confused mind tried to rationalize it. The river was miles away. It was impossible. But his body didn't reason. The sound seemed perfectly normal to him, and the thirst, a thirst that for some reason took hold of him like never before, drove him forward. With steady steps, he followed the sound of the water.
After five minutes of walking toward the sound, the forest opened up before his eyes.
It was a small lake, its waters so clear they looked like a mirror reflecting the sky. On one side, a waterfall perhaps five meters high and twenty meters wide poured down its curtain of white and silver foam with a dull roar that filled the air with freshness and defied all geographical logic.
Duncan did not question its existence. He only saw the water. Thirst was a fire in his throat. He approached the shore, knelt on the damp earth, and without thinking twice, submerged his head in the cold waters.
Gulp, gulp, gulp.
He drank in great gulps, with animal desperation. The water was sweet, cool, and seemed to soothe not only his thirst but also the residual pain in his head and shoulder. A guttural sound of satisfaction escaped him as he drank.
As he pulled his head out, dripping, with a gasp of relief, he opened his eyes. And then he saw.
On a flat, gray rock to his right, carefully folded, was a set of women's clothing. A light blouse and jeans. Modern, earthly clothes. Out of place in that corner of impossible forest.
The relief froze in his veins. The satisfaction vanished.
And then, from the center of the lake, just where the waterfall hit the surface hardest, the water stirred. A figure began to emerge, slowly, inevitably, breaking the smooth, clear surface.
Water ran through long hair that seemed to be made of autumn flame itself, over pale shoulders that glistened in the filtered light...
Duncan couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He could only stay there, kneeling on the shore, watching as the figure rose from the waters, directing a gaze at him that pierced the distance between them like lightning.
End of chapter...