Apparition on Glass

Misfortune seemed to follow her, and Visha could not help but wonder if all the murders she committed were starting to catch up to her. It was her job, her life, what she trained for. She followed orders, climbed her way to the top of her group...

On piles and piles of corpses.

Now, she wasn't alone. Many of her peers also killed their way to the top but she couldn't understand. She couldn't understand how they could do it all without any remorse. Not a single regret. Not a single tear.

She didn't understand.

It didn't help her concerns when someone's been stalking her and trying to sabotage her missions. She tries to tell the higher-ups about this but no one saw this stalker of hers and accused her of lying.

That was the last straw.

It had been...well, Visha wasn't sure how long it's been since she's been running. Running for her life against her former colleagues, who were now out to kill her for her treachery. Somehow she was always just out of their reach, and she was grateful to whatever was out there that was keeping her alive. 

It seemed that whoever was keeping her alive seemed to pity her because she one day stumbled across an abandoned cottage. Despite being abandoned for who knows how long, it was still intact--almost as if waiting for her. She instantly barricaded herself in the closet and stayed, waiting...waiting...waiting...

Fear prevented her from getting much sleep, as she feared that they would find her here.

That would've been the end.

She could see it now, them shooting a dagger at her chest.

It would be unrealistic if they had dragged her out of there with their bare hands. 

She was poisonous to the touch, after all. If they make contact, they'd be as good as dead.

Even if they wanted to kill her, she wouldn't want them to die. Never. She had enough death for the rest of her life.

For hours? Days? She wasn't sure how long, but she stayed in the closet—curled up, trembling. Fear was a constant thought in her head, tugging her mind with reminders of what was out there.

Which was briefly cut off with the feeling of vacant arms wrapped around her waist. 

Then a shot of adrenaline and fear. 

She is quick to scramble out of the closet, hand over her mouth to order to muffle any screams that manger to slip from her throat. She ignored how the comforting touch made her feel warmth creeping up in her chest. 

Sure, Visha was touch-starved, but right now wasn't the time. If someone was in there...

She was quick to close the door, then the hairs at the back of her neck rose—realizing what she had done.

How could she be so stupid? 

Visha slowly turned, keeping low to prevent anyone from spotting her if they looked at the windows. She watched for a while, heart-pounding and blood roaring in her ears as fast particles floated aimlessly in the morning light. 

It was strangely peaceful and quiet.

The purple breeder slowly crept her way towards one of the glass planes, heart leaping in her chest. Occasionally she glanced back at the closet door.

Was the person dead now? Why were they in the closet? 

Visha bit her lip, eyes darting anxiously around. For a while, she quietly and swiftly checked for any hiding places—any place where they could ambush her. She wasn’t taking any chances. 

Nothing. The home was cold. Empty. Dead.

It was both a relief and made Visha uneasy. She found herself scrambling into the closet again, the strange incident gone from her memory...for now.

---

Slowly but surely, she left the closet. 

Each day was her crawling around the cottage, inspecting the rooms. 

Two bedrooms. One bathroom. A kitchen. A living room.

Small and cozy.

She did not have the courage to go near the windows, for she feared that they would be waiting for her. Watching.

She could cover them but the movement could bring suspicion. 

Yet as days and perhaps even weeks passed. Visha slowly became assured that they did not find her. Besides, she was hungry. And it was about time to search for food.

Aside from cans in the pantry, thick with dust, there was the door.

A door that led out to the back of the cottage. A place that Visha could only assume was the garden. Perhaps it was overgrown with weeds.

No matter, she could eat anything. If she could eat poisonous fish guts, mushrooms, and berries. She could as well eat unidentifiable plants. It was part of her training as a child, after all.

Mustering up courage, she crept towards the black door, where there was a window. 

For the first time in ages, would she see her reflection. Even if it was faint.

Instead, her violet eyes met teal. 

Visha’s face turned pale, seeing the chief’s daughter she killed years ago.