The morning erupted in chaos before Samantha even had a chance to process where she was. The muffled sound of a ringing phone reverberated through Tomoya’s small apartment, followed by the sharp clatter of something being knocked over. From the kitchen, the scent of burnt coffee mixed with the faint tang of disinfectant, remnants of whatever frantic cleaning had taken place the night before.
She sat on the worn-out couch, her fingers curling around the fabric of Tomoya’s blanket draped over her lap. Her mind was sluggish, heavy with exhaustion, yet confusion gnawed at her. Why was she here? Why Tomoya’s apartment, of all places?
If Takumi wanted to keep her safe, wouldn’t Kathleen’s home have been a more logical choice? Kathleen would have welcomed her without hesitation. But instead, she had woken up to Tomoya pacing the small living room, muttering to himself, his laptop glowing with lines of code she couldn’t decipher.
Samantha’s pulse quickened as she tried to recall the last clear memory she had. Junel. The knife. The blood. A cold shiver ran through her, but before she could dwell on it, Tomoya rushed past her, a phone pressed to his ear.
“No, I haven’t checked the footage again,” he snapped, rubbing his temple in frustration. “We already wiped it clean—there’s nothing left to find.” His eyes flickered toward Samantha, softening for a split second before he turned away.
The weight of unspoken truths hung between them. Samantha wanted to ask, but she hesitated. Something was off. She wasn’t just here for protection against what she had—there was another reason, one she hadn’t been told. Otherwise—otherwise, why would Takumi and Tomoya had to go through all lengths to hide what she had done?
What benefit will they get out of it?
Tomoya barely had time to process what was happening before frantic knocks rattled the apartment door. His instincts kicked in, and with a quick glance at Samantha, he moved toward the entrance. His hand hovered over the doorknob for a second before he pulled it open.
Kathleen burst inside without hesitation, her breath uneven, her expression twisted with worry. Without sparing Tomoya a glance, she rushed toward Samantha, falling to her knees beside her.
"A-Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Kathleen's voice trembled as she grasped Samantha’s arms, scanning her up and down as if expecting to find wounds hidden beneath her sleeves.
Samantha let out a sharp breath, her body finally reacting to the weight of everything she had suppressed. Tears welled in her eyes, and before she could stop herself, a sob tore from her throat.
“No, I’m not,” she choked out. “B-But Junel’s dead, Kath.”
Kathleen stilled, her hands tightening around Samantha’s wrists. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something—maybe reassurance, maybe denial—but nothing came out. Her gaze darted toward Tomoya, seeking answers, but the solemn look on his face told her all she needed to know.
Kathleen immediately pulled Samantha into a tight embrace, her arms firm yet gentle as she whispered, “Shh… You only protected yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”
Samantha broke down completely, her sobs racking her body as she clung to Kathleen like a lifeline. The weight of everything—Junel’s blood on her hands, the fear in his eyes before he fell, the sheer terror that had consumed her—came crashing down all at once.
Tomoya, watching from the side, exhaled heavily. He wanted to say something, anything, to ease the tension in the air, but what could he say? That everything would be fine? That this would all go away?
His eyes flickered toward the window, where the morning sun struggled to break through the heavy clouds. Outside, the city continued as if nothing had happened, oblivious to the chaos inside these four walls.
Tomoya took a step back, allowing Samantha and Kathleen the space they needed. As soon as he distanced himself, Samantha’s grip tightened around Kathleen’s hands, her fingers ice-cold and trembling. Her wide, tear-streaked eyes locked onto Kathleen’s with sheer terror.
“S-Something’s wrong, Kath!” Samantha’s voice cracked, a whisper filled with dread.
Kathleen instinctively cupped Samantha’s hands between hers, trying to offer warmth, trying to ground her. “Shh… Junel was wrong. You didn’t do that on purpose,” she reassured, her voice gentle yet firm. But there was something uneasy in her own tone—something uncertain.
Samantha shook her head violently, her breath coming in quick, panicked gasps. “N-No, no! It’s not just about Junel.”
Kathleen’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering in her gaze. “What do you mean?”
Samantha’s lips trembled, her voice barely above a whisper. “While it’s true that he tried to kill me… that terrifying grin on his face—I remember it. I remember his hand tightening around the knife, moving straight for me.” She gulped. “But right before the blade could touch my skin… I blacked out.”
Kathleen’s hands tightened around Samantha’s instinctively, but Samantha wasn’t finished.
Her voice dropped to a haunted whisper. “And the next thing I knew… Junel was already dead.” She swallowed hard. “I killed him, Kath. But I don’t remember doing it.”
Silence stretched between them, suffocating and thick.
Kathleen’s breath hitched, her mind racing. “You… you don’t remember?”
Samantha shook her head, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. “I just remember darkness. Like something inside me took over. And when I woke up… the knife was in my hand.”
Kathleen’s throat ran dry. “S-Sam… are you saying—?”
“I didn’t just kill him, Kath,” Samantha interrupted, her eyes filled with something deeper than fear—something primal, something dangerous. “I killed him in that state. And I don’t even know who—or what—I was when I did it!"
Kathleen swallowed hard, her hands still gripping Samantha’s, but they were colder now—almost lifeless. The weight of Samantha’s words pressed against her chest, suffocating her with the undeniable truth.
“Y-You must have only forgotten,” Kathleen blurted out, her voice wavering as she forced a weak smile. “You’re still healing. It—it must be a defense mechanism, helping you cope with what happened.”
She sounded like she was convincing herself more than Samantha.
But Samantha wasn’t fooled.
Her sharp eyes darted between Kathleen’s, searching, dissecting—reading her like an open book. “I’m a psychiatrist, Kath,” she said with eerie calm. “I know how much trauma a brain can take before it shuts down. I’ve lived through worse. And I’ve never blacked out like that before.”
Kathleen’s lips parted, but nothing came out.
“Unless,” Samantha continued, her voice softer now, almost coaxing, “there’s more to this than just the earthquake and Junel.”
The blood drained from Kathleen’s face.
That reaction—it was enough.
Samantha didn’t need words to confirm it. Kathleen’s silence was screaming the truth louder than any confession.
“Tell me the truth, Kath.”
Kathleen opened her mouth, the burden of a thousand unspoken words trembling on the tip of her tongue—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The sound jolted them, breaking the suffocating tension in the air.
“Ah—it must be nii-san,” Tomoya muttered from across the room, closing his laptop and standing up. He barely spared them a glance as he made his way to the door.
Maybe if he had, he would’ve noticed Kathleen’s trembling hands. Or Samantha’s narrowed, expectant gaze.
Instead, he reached for the door, his mind too preoccupied to check the peephole.
And the moment he swung it open—
His heart nearly stopped.
“T-Theresa?”
Tomoya’s breath caught in his throat. His entire body tensed at the sight of the woman standing in the doorway. His mind warred between slamming the door shut, bolting for the nearest exit, or doing both at the same time.
But Theresa was already stepping forward, her expression tight with urgency.
“I—I heard what happened. Are you guys okay?”
Her concern seemed genuine, but Tomoya barely heard her. His pulse pounded in his ears, drowning out everything else.
Before he could even form a response, Theresa’s gaze slid past him—
And landed on Samantha.
For a moment, time stopped.
Theresa’s breath hitched. Her eyes widened in raw, unfiltered shock, as if she’d just seen a ghost standing right there in the apartment.
And Samantha?
Samantha stared back.
Her bloodshot eyes darkened, her
grip on Kathleen tightening until her knuckles turned white.
The air between them shifted, thick with something unspoken—something dangerous.
A storm was brewing.
And no one in that room was ready for it.