Darkness surrounded her. She knew it was a dream. Her dream. No one else’s. She was alone, trapped inside her own fractured mind. Then, from somewhere in the distance, she heard a sound. Something was coming, drawing nearer. She strained to listen, to understand, but before she could make sense of it, someone gently took her hand from behind.

  “It was a hard day,” murmured a small girl, peering into Alice’s eyes. “A long one.”

  “You again?” Alice sighed.

  “You’d rather it was Him,” the girl replied, matter-of-fact. “But He won’t be coming back anytime soon.”

  Alice had thought she was too drained to feel irritated. She was wrong. Again.

  “You talk like you know me,” Alice muttered, pulling her hand away. “Like you understand me better than I do. You show up out of nowhere, saying things you can’t possibly know.”

  “I am you, Alice,” said the girl, smiling with a weariness too old for her face. “I’ve told you this before.”

  “How are you me?”

  “You already know. I’m your subconscious.”

  “Subconscious?”

  “You’ve read about it,” the girl nodded. “I’m you, or at least part of you.”

  “I know what the subconscious is.”

  “But do you understand it?”

  Alice opened her mouth, but no words came. In that moment, she realized she had nothing to say. She stared at the girl in silence.

  “I thought so,” the child said gently.

  Again, she took Alice’s hand and led her toward a three-seater sofa materializing from the darkness.

  “There’s so much you know but don’t yet understand. Normally, that wouldn’t matter, but…”

  “These aren’t normal circumstances,” Alice finished.

  “Exactly. We’re running out of time.”

  “Time for what?!” Alice snapped. “That’s all I hear! ‘Hurry up.’ ‘You’re too slow.’ ‘You don’t understand.’ But no one tells me why! I don’t even know what this is for!”

  “You do know,” the girl said sternly. “You just refuse to admit it. You buried those memories deep. You do as you please, then blame him when it falls apart. It’s time to face the promises you made.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alice muttered, collapsing onto the couch as if her body had given out.

  “Let me tell you something,” she said, voice fraying. “I’m done with riddles. Everyone speaks in puzzles, then blames me for not understanding. No one gives me straight answers. You say I’m wasting time, but how can I move forward when I don’t even know the direction?” Her voice broke. “I’m lost, Little Alice. Alone. I feel like I’m missing something vital, like I’ll never be enough.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. She looked at the child and suddenly felt ridiculous, melodramatic, pathetic. Herself, laid bare before her own subconscious.

  And that’s why the girl’s reply stunned her.

  “I know,” the girl said simply, legs swinging above the floor. “You’re sad. Overwhelmed. Going through puberty. Mood swings, hormonal storms… Your mind’s still learning to use what you know. You act on impulse. That’s not something I can fix. Your body has to grow on its own.” She shrugged. “No shortcuts. No skipping the mess.”

  “I don’t even know what we’re arguing about anymore,” Alice whispered.

  “We’re here because your carefree world is over. Like it or not, you need Him.”

  “Need him for what?” Alice snarled. “You saw what he did. What he risked. You want me to crawl back, apologize, and hope he’ll help next time? Should I thank him for stealing what was left of my innocence? What else do you want from me?

  “I told you,” the girl interrupted, her voice sharp with anger. “You don’t understand.”

  Then, the darkness twisted, and suddenly Alice was no longer in the void. She stood in the attic of the guesthouse. She somehow knew it was the same building, but that detail hardly mattered now. He was there. The Owner. Raging. Tearing through junk, searching for something. And Alice… she felt a cold fear slithered down her spine, followed by revulsion, then something darker. Fury. A hunger for vengeance. She wanted him to pay. To suffer for what he’d done. If only she could hurt him, even a little… But she couldn’t. This wasn’t real. Just a memory, already set in stone.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  The man yanked out a thick rope, muttering:

  “I’ll kill that little whore. Tie her up, fuck her, then kill her. That slut won’t get away again. She wants it anyway.”

  “Oh, really?” A quiet, melodic voice cut through the air.

  A dark-haired man stood to the side, smoking a cigarette with eerie calm.

  “The fuck’re you?” the Owner bellowed, startled, dropping the rope. “This is private property! Get the hell out, or I’ll call the cops!”

  “And what’ll you tell them?” Not-a-Doctor asked, amused. “That I’m interrupting your attempted rape of a minor? You think that’ll help your case?”

  “The fuck you on about, you freak?” The Owner spat, flecks of saliva flying. “You high or somethin’? I’ll beat you so hard your brain’ll finally work right.”

  “Doubtful.” Not-a-Doctor sighed. “But I’ve wasted enough time here. Let’s conclude this.”

  “The fuck?!” The fat man clenched his fists, glaring with pure hatred. “You askin’ for a beating, pretty boy? That why you came?”

  Not-a-Doctor took a slow drag of his cigarette, then flashed a smile so charming it felt like a threat.

  “Actually, I’m here as that girl’s guardian. The one you tried to rape today.”

  The Owner’s heart pounded. Was he scared? Maybe a little. That bitch was supposed to be alone. Where’d this guy come from? Didn’t look like family or some lovesick idiot. Too calm. A pimp? Maybe. But there was something off about his eyes, and he wasn’t rushing to call the cops. Was he dangerous? Nah. Probably unarmed. And in a fistfight, no scrawny bastard could take him.

  “Bullshit! That slut made it up! What lies she feed ya?”

  “This conversation is pointless.” Not-a-Doctor locked eyes with him. “Time to die, you son of a bitch.”

  The fat man almost laughed, until his body froze. He tried to move. Couldn’t. Panic flared as his hands moved against his will, folding the rope into a noose and looping it around his own neck. He didn’t even know how to tie this knot! Then the rope lashed over a beam, and reality crashed down.

  “W-what’d you do to me?!” he whimpered as the noose tightened.

  Not-a-Doctor ignored him, murmuring:

  "You should suffer more. Hanging’s too easy."

  The would-be rapist’s hands removed the noose and his legs carried him to a nearby toolbox. The Owner’s brief relief dissolved into raw terror as his traitorous fingers closed around a rusted utility knife, its edge dulled by neglect.

  "I’ve seen worse than rape," Not-a-Doctor mused. "Lived too long in circles where violating women feels quaint. Once watched a high-ranking bastard rape a three-year-old, then pour diluted acid down her throat. Jerked off to her convulsions. And that wasn’t even the worst." He tilted his head. "Hard to pick, really. Knew a man who drugged girls, sawed off their skullcaps, and planted seeds in their brains. Maddening part? Nothing grew. Just rotted faster. Persistent, though."

  The fat man’s stomach knotted, bile rising, but his body worked on, rummaging for fresh horrors. The dark-haired man continued, voice casual as a weather report:

  "Then there was a friend of mine. She had a… unique way of disciplining disobedient servants." He flicked cigarette ash. "Dropped carnivorous larvae into their vaginas. Loved watching them scream, fingers clawing to pull them out. Her sister? Had a pet. Don’t recall the breed, but looked like a wolf-bear hybrid. Whenever her husband cheated, she’d have the other woman dragged in, locked in a room with that perpetually randy beast. Watched the rape behind iron bars. At first, she’d kill the victims afterward… Decency, I suppose. Got boring fast. Started dumping the naked bodies near villages. Lasted years… till one girl talked. Peasants rebelled. She burned them all. Pity. Heaven decided to interfere."

  The Owner’s hands arranged the tools with executioner’s precision, awaiting a nod. It came. The "fun" began. First: ripping out his own fingernails. Pain detonated in his hands, but his throat clamped shut, reducing screams to whimpers.

  "Of course, the most creative was…" Not-a-Doctor paused, glancing at him. "Ah, fuck. Told her to practice. Never listens." He sighed. "Wanted to stay for the finale, but duty calls. You’ll manage."

  He vanished.

  The owner’s hope of breaking free shattered. His body kept working. After the nails: flaying the skin from his hands and face. Then gouging out his eyes. The noose, when it came, felt like mercy, until the drop proved too short. No neck snap. Just slow strangulation, feet kicking at stacked planks. Minutes stretched like decades.

  Alice watched, screaming until her voice died. This couldn’t be real. Too grotesque. Too cruel. A nightmare scripted by a sadist.

  "This didn’t happen," Alice whispered, stomach heaving.

  "But you wanted revenge," the little girl replied, summoning the darkness back. "He tried to rape you. He paid."

  "No. This couldn’t…" Alice vomited violently, purging bile and horror. "You don’t do this. You can’t."

  "Why not?" The girl shrugged. "Him or you. Be glad you walked away."

  Alice stared, revolted. "How can you say that? This is…"

  "How can you be surprised? We’ve seen worse. Done worse. Lived through worse." The girl’s voice was eerily light. "You don’t remember, but our hands have been red and sticky with blood before. It’s just a body, Alice. His soul will be cleansed in Heaven, taught its lesson, sent back again. He had the power to destroy even that. Don’t call this cruel. In the world where you first met, things like this were just the opening act."

  "Enough!" Alice clapped hands over her ears. "I won’t listen! I’d never hurt anyone. I won’t become like Him!"

  "As you wish." The girl turned to leave. "But remember: you’re weaker than you think. Without Him, that spirit would’ve killed you."

  Alice woke trembling. For a brief moment, she almost convinced herself it was nothing but a figment of her imagination. But the memories were too vivid, and the sensations… far too real. Today had been a long day. Hard. But she’d made it through. She had survived, even if her subconscious tried to tell her otherwise. She had defeated the ghost, and she wouldn’t let anyone make her believe some nonsense about that. It was her. She was sure of it.

  "I won’t be like you," she whispered, fingers raking through sweat-damp hair. "I won’t become what you want."

  She packed slowly, mechanically, folding each item as if performing a ritual. Weak. Sore. But time wouldn’t wait. She had a goal, one that lay far from here, and it would demand everything she had to reach it. So she had to hurry home.

  "I will be good," she murmured, like a new mantra etched into her mind. "I’ll heal this world. I will be good. I won’t be like him.”