The screams returned.
Louder.
Louder.
LOUDER.
Then—
A different voice.
Distant.
Muffled.
"Andre..."
Again.
"Andre!"
Everything cracked.
Like glass.
The illusion shattered.
The darkness shattered.
The screams vanished.
The burning house disappeared.
The bodies.
The blood.
His mother.
His brother.
Esmeralda.
All gone.
"ANDRE!"
The voice hit him like a lifeline.
Reality rushed back.
The cold wind.
The evening sky.
Andre collapsed to his knees.
His entire body trembling violently.
"No..."
His voice came out broken.
Barely audible.
"No..."
His hands shot to his ears.
Trying to block out sounds that weren't there anymore.
The screams.
The gunshots.
The cries for help.
The voices of the dead.
His breathing became erratic.
Fast.
Shallow.
Panicked.
His vision blurred.
Everything around him spinning.
He couldn't tell what was real anymore.
His eyes were wide.
Almost completely white with terror.
"Andre!"
Footsteps.
Running.
Closer.
Then suddenly
Warm arms wrapped around him.
Firm.
Real.
Grounding.
"Andre!"
Esmeralda dropped to her knees beside him.
Grabbing both his shoulders.
"Look at me."
Andre didn't hear her.
Or maybe he couldn't.
His entire body was shaking.
Like he was freezing to death.
His lips trembled.
His breathing sounded painful.
"Andre!"
She cupped his face.
Forcing him to focus.
Forcing him back.
Back to reality.
Back to her.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
His eyes found hers.
The fear inside them nearly broke her heart.
Because she had never seen Andre afraid.
Not once.
Not ever.
Yet right now
He looked terrified.
Like a child trapped inside a nightmare.
And for a moment
Neither of them spoke.
Then suddenly
Andre grabbed her.
Pulling her into a crushing hug.
So tight she nearly lost her balance.
Esmeralda froze.
His arms trembled around her.
His entire body shaking.
And then she heard it.
A whisper.
Barely audible.
"...You're okay?"
Another.
More desperate.
"You're okay?"
His grip tightened.
As though letting go would make her disappear.
"Esmeralda..."
His voice cracked.
"You're okay?"
The realization hit her instantly.
Whatever he had seen.
She had died in it.
Maybe all of them had.
And somehow that hurt more than seeing him cry.
Her expression softened immediately.
She wrapped both arms around him.
Holding him just as tightly.
"I'm okay."
A gentle pause.
"I'm right here."
Andre buried his face against her shoulder.
Still shaking.
Still trying to breathe.
Still trying to convince himself she was real.
Esmeralda slowly began running her fingers through his hair.
The same way someone might calm a frightened child.
"It's okay."
A soft pat on his head.
"It's okay."
Another.
"Nobody's hurt."
Her voice became even gentler.
"You hear me?"
A pause.
"I'm okay."
Another stroke through his hair.
"You're okay."
The trembling slowly lessened.
Not completely.
But enough.
Enough for him to stay present.
Enough to stop drowning.
For several minutes they remained like that.
Sitting on the cold ground outside the church.
Andre holding onto her like she was the only solid thing left in the world.
And Esmeralda didn't complain once.
The shaking became smaller.
And it seemed like he had gotten his composure back.
"...Thank you."
Esmeralda smiled sadly.
Still patting his head.
Still holding him.
"You idiot."
A tear rolled down her cheek as she said it.
"You scared me half to death."
And for the first time since the illusion shattered
Andre managed the faintest smile.
Tiny.
Fragile.
But real.
Before exhaustion finally overtook him.
The ride back was silent.
Painfully silent.
Esmeralda sat beside Andre in the backseat.
One hand gripping his shoulder.
The other holding his trembling hand.
His eyes remained unfocused.
Staring at nothing.
As though part of him had never left whatever nightmare Azazel had shown him.
Every now and then his body would shudder violently.
A silent tremor running through him.
And every single time
Esmeralda's chest tightened.
Because she had never seen Andre like this.
Not once.
Not after the fight with Rufus.
Not after his confrontation with Maxim.
Not even after talking about his mother and brother.
Nothing had ever broken him this badly.
The sight terrified her.
And for the first time since she met him
She didn't know what to do.
So she simply held his hand tighter.
And stayed beside him.
Because partially she blames herself for pushing him this far.
Mrs Jenkins residence
Mrs. Jenkins opened the door before they even reached it.
One look at Andre
And the color drained from her face.
"Andre?"
No response.
The old woman immediately rushed forward.
"Dear God..."
Esmeralda helped her support him.
Together they guided him inside.
Andre barely resisted.
Barely reacted.
It was like he was moving on instinct alone.
As if his mind was somewhere else entirely.
An hour later.
Esmeralda sat alone in the living room.
The grandfather clock ticked loudly.
Each second feeling heavier than the last.
Upstairs she could occasionally hear muffled voices.
Mrs. Jenkins trying to calm him.
Trying to get him to rest.
Trying to get him to stop shaking.
And every time she heard movement
Her guilt grew.
A little more.
A little more.
A little more.
Until it felt unbearable.
Finally.
The bedroom door opened.
Mrs. Jenkins stepped downstairs.
Looking exhausted.
Esmeralda immediately stood.
"How is he?"
Mrs. Jenkins lowered herself onto a chair slowly.
For several seconds she didn't answer.
Then she sighed.
"He has a fever."
Esmeralda's stomach dropped.
"What?"
Mrs. Jenkins rubbed her forehead.
"A high one."
A pause.
"It took nearly forty minutes to get him to sleep."
Esmeralda stared at her.
Speechless.
Mrs. Jenkins looked toward the stairs.
Toward Andre's room.
And something in her eyes softened.
"I've known that boy for sometime."
A faint smile appeared.
Sad.
Tired.
"He never lets anyone see him weak."
Esmeralda listened quietly.
Mrs. Jenkins chuckled softly.
"He's stubborn."
A pause.
"Proud."
Another.
"And far too protective of everyone around him."
Her smile faded.
"But this..."
She slowly shook her head.
"I've never seen him like this."
Mrs. Jenkins looked down at her hands.
"Andre always acts strong."
A pause.
"Even when he's hurting."
Another.
"Even when he's scared."
Her voice grew quieter.
"But today..."
She looked toward the stairs again.
"He looked broken."
Silence filled the room.
Esmeralda lowered her head.
Guilt twisting inside her chest.
"This is my fault."
Mrs. Jenkins immediately looked at her.
"No."
"It is."
Her voice cracked.
"If I hadn't taken him there..."
She swallowed hard.
"If I hadn't forced him to talk about his past..."
The words became harder to say.
"He wouldn't be like this."
Mrs. Jenkins remained silent for a moment.
Then slowly stood.
And placed a hand on Esmeralda's shoulder.
"You didn't do this."
Esmeralda looked unconvinced.
Mrs. Jenkins sighed.
"Whatever happened today..."
A pause.
"It started long before you came into his life."
The words offered comfort.
Yet somehow made everything feel worse.
Because if that was true
Then just how much pain had Andre been carrying alone?
Mrs. Jenkins glanced at the clock.
Then toward the door.
Her expression slowly changing.
Esmeralda noticed immediately.
"Where are you going?"
Mrs. Jenkins grabbed her coat from a nearby chair.
"I need to see someone."
The tone in her voice surprised Esmeralda.
"Who?"
The old woman hesitated.
Only briefly.
Then:
"The man at the church."
Esmeralda's eyes widened.
"Mr. Parker, the crazy man?"
Mrs. Jenkins nodded.
A shadow crossed her face.
"Something happened there."
A pause.
"And I intend to find out exactly what. So please give me his address"
Esmeralda stood quickly.
"I'll come with you."
"No."
The answer was immediate.
Firm.
Mrs. Jenkins pointed toward the staircase.
"Andre needs someone nearby when he wakes up."
Esmeralda blinked.
Then looked upstairs.
Toward his room.
Mrs. Jenkins softened slightly.
"You've done enough for today."
A pause.
"Go home."
"But"
"Just go home, dear."
Silence.
Eventually.
Reluctantly.
Esmeralda nodded.
A few minutes later she stepped outside.
The night air felt colder than before.
She looked back at the house one last time.
A strange feeling settling in her chest.
Fear.
Worry.
And something else she wasn't ready to name.
Then she turned and left.
Mrs. Jenkins waited until Esmeraldas driver drove a distance.
Then her expression changed completely.
The kindness vanished.
Replaced by concern.
Real concern.
She looked upstairs.
Toward Andre's room.
Without another word
She picked up her keys.
And drove into the night.
Straight toward Mr. Parker.