Zelda stood in the dim hallway of the mansion, watching everyone pace back and forth. Her fourth brother had just been in an accident. Though the doctors said it wasn't serious, their words did little to calm the family's fear.
"Zelda, would you come here, please?" her adoptive mother called gently.
She turned toward her mother's voice. The older woman's eyes were filled with tears, her arms already open for comfort. Zelda stepped into her embrace, holding her tightly.
"Mom, don't cry," she whispered, her own voice trembling as she began to sob with her.
Her fourth brother was her favorite person in the world. Seeing him like this — silent, still — tore at her heart. Pulling away from her mother's arms, she quietly walked to his room. Inside, he lay unconscious on the hospital bed the family had set up in his room.
The doctors had said he was still in shock and might not wake up anytime soon.
She pulled a chair close and gently took his hand in hers. Tears welled in her eyes again as she stared at his still face. She didn't notice when the door opened behind her.
"Zed, there you are!"
It was Berrett, her third brother. His voice was soft and warm. She quickly wiped her tears and turned toward him.
He came closer and gently brushed a tear from her cheek.
"Pumpkin, you know he wouldn't want to see you crying when he wakes up," he said softly.
She gave a weak nod.
"Well… I came to rescue you," he added.
She looked at him, confused. "Rescue me?"
He hesitated. "The Douge is around. And trust me, he's the last person you want to see right now."
Before she could respond, a voice interrupted from the doorway.
"Who's around?"
They froze.
It was him. Their oldest brother.
Zelda went still. No one needed to tell her — she had just crossed paths with the devil.
Berrett's voice broke the silence with a nervous chuckle. "No one…"
He tried to take Zelda's hand to lead her out, but their eldest brother stepped into the room and blocked them.
"Where are you taking her?" he asked, his voice cold and commanding.
Berrett stiffened and let go of her hand without another word. Slowly, he bowed his head and left the room.
Zelda stood frozen as their oldest brother walked toward her. He placed a hand on her head and gently stroked her hair.
Her body went rigid.
Then, his voice — calm but loaded — broke the silence.
"How are you?"
A bomb of a question.
It was the first time in seven years he had spoken to her.
Her mind flashed back to that day — the first time she'd stepped into this house.
She had been just five, holding Marie's hand tightly after the adoption. As they walked into the living room, she saw four healthy boys sitting on the couch. Marie had given her a reassuring smile.
"Hey, boys!" she had said. "This is Zelda — your new sister."
Three of the boys had come over to greet her, laughing, playing. But he had just sat there, watching her like she was an unwanted shadow.
"Zelda!"
His voice snapped her back to the present.
"Yes?" she answered quickly, looking up at him.
"Mother is calling you," he said flatly. "You should go."
Dismissed.
She didn't wait another second — she ran out of the room. Right now, she just wanted her mommy.
"Zel, where are you running to?" Marie called from the living room.
Seeing her mother, she ran straight into her arms. Marie, worried, glanced up the stairs — to the shadowed figure above.
As he expected, Zelda had run to his mother, just like always. That little girl still saw Marie as her only shelter. In Zelda's story, he would always be the big bad wolf.
He watched Marie sit Zelda down and then walk toward him.
"You know," she said as she reached him, "you don't always have to be so harsh to her."
"Mom, this isn't the right place for this conversation," he replied coolly.
"No — it isn't. But you made it a matter of discussion. You know how close she is to Ryan. How much this accident has shaken her. This isn't the time to treat her like—"
"She's not a child anymore," he interrupted.
"She's still your sister," Marie snapped. "Even if it's by name."
He glanced at Zelda, her eyes still puffy and red, clinging to the last bit of comfort she had.
Without another word, he turned and walked away.
Marie watched his figure disappear into the shadows. She wasn't sure she could do this alone anymore. Ever since her husband died, holding this family together had been like stitching cracks into glass.
Then suddenly — a loud crash echoed from upstairs.
It came from her oldest son's room.