Blair Bathory

She'd sold the pool house but rented it back just for the occasion. She wanted nostalgia. I wanted closure. I hadn't returned to Tokyo since Zia died. The streets felt too clean. The air too quiet. Even the crows avoided that house. The place hadn't changed, the tiles still held ghostly stains, and the air smelled faintly of chlorine and mold.

She'd sold the pool house but rented it back just for the occasion. She wanted nostalgia. I wanted closure. I hadn't returned to Tokyo since Zia died. The streets felt too clean. The air too quiet. Even the crows avoided that house. The place hadn't changed, the tiles still held ghostly stains, and the air smelled faintly of chlorine and mold.

She'd sold the pool house but rented it back just for the occasion. She wanted nostalgia. I wanted closure. I hadn't returned to Tokyo since Zia died. The streets felt too clean. The air too quiet. Even the crows avoided that house. The place hadn't changed, the tiles still held ghostly stains, and the air smelled faintly of chlorine and mold.

I walked through the house alone, early in the morning before anyone else arrived. I passed Zia's old room. The door was cracked open. Inside, the wallpaper peeled in long strips, and the dust had gathered thick in the corners. I found a bouquet resting in the kitchen counter. At first, I thought it was for the wedding, until I saw the note tucked between the lilies. "'Til death do us part.

I walked through the house alone, early in the morning before anyone else arrived. I passed Zia's old room. The door was cracked open. Inside, the wallpaper peeled in long strips, and the dust had gathered thick in the corners. I found a bouquet resting in the kitchen counter. At first, I thought it was for the wedding, until I saw the note tucked between the lilies. "'Til death do us part.

I walked through the house alone, early in the morning before anyone else arrived. I passed Zia's old room. The door was cracked open. Inside, the wallpaper peeled in long strips, and the dust had gathered thick in the corners. I found a bouquet resting in the kitchen counter. At first, I thought it was for the wedding, until I saw the note tucked between the lilies. "'Til death do us part.

Don't leave me again.'" My fingers went numb. The flowers were damp, dripping, and not water. They smelled metallic, like old coins and rot. That night, I couldn't sleep. Every creek in the old house sounded like footsteps. The mirrors fogged, over without reason. At 4.03 a.m., I heard it, a soft splash, followed by what sounded like laughter, a child's giggle, warbled and wrong.

Don't leave me again.'" My fingers went numb. The flowers were damp, dripping, and not water. They smelled metallic, like old coins and rot. That night, I couldn't sleep. Every creek in the old house sounded like footsteps. The mirrors fogged, over without reason. At 4.03 a.m., I heard it, a soft splash, followed by what sounded like laughter, a child's giggle, warbled and wrong.

Don't leave me again.'" My fingers went numb. The flowers were damp, dripping, and not water. They smelled metallic, like old coins and rot. That night, I couldn't sleep. Every creek in the old house sounded like footsteps. The mirrors fogged, over without reason. At 4.03 a.m., I heard it, a soft splash, followed by what sounded like laughter, a child's giggle, warbled and wrong.

Drawn to the pool, I walked barefoot down the stone steps. The moon hung low, swollen. Zia stood at the edge, a wedding dress clinging to her soaked frame, veil trailing behind her like seaweed. Her skin had that water-long look, pale, bloated. Her eyes were empty, her mouth opened, but no words came, only a wet, guttural gasp.

Drawn to the pool, I walked barefoot down the stone steps. The moon hung low, swollen. Zia stood at the edge, a wedding dress clinging to her soaked frame, veil trailing behind her like seaweed. Her skin had that water-long look, pale, bloated. Her eyes were empty, her mouth opened, but no words came, only a wet, guttural gasp.

Drawn to the pool, I walked barefoot down the stone steps. The moon hung low, swollen. Zia stood at the edge, a wedding dress clinging to her soaked frame, veil trailing behind her like seaweed. Her skin had that water-long look, pale, bloated. Her eyes were empty, her mouth opened, but no words came, only a wet, guttural gasp.

Her hand reached toward me, water trailing down her fingers like strings. I turned and ran. I didn't stop until I locked myself in the upstairs guest room, heart thundering. The next day was the wedding. Mariko looked radiant but tired. During the vows, her voice trembled. When she tossed the bouquet, she missed. It landed by the pool. She went to retrieve it herself. She screamed. We ran to her.

Her hand reached toward me, water trailing down her fingers like strings. I turned and ran. I didn't stop until I locked myself in the upstairs guest room, heart thundering. The next day was the wedding. Mariko looked radiant but tired. During the vows, her voice trembled. When she tossed the bouquet, she missed. It landed by the pool. She went to retrieve it herself. She screamed. We ran to her.

Her hand reached toward me, water trailing down her fingers like strings. I turned and ran. I didn't stop until I locked myself in the upstairs guest room, heart thundering. The next day was the wedding. Mariko looked radiant but tired. During the vows, her voice trembled. When she tossed the bouquet, she missed. It landed by the pool. She went to retrieve it herself. She screamed. We ran to her.

She was on the ground, gasping, holding her chest. Bruises spread like ink across her ribcage. "'Not now,' she whispered. "'Not again.' They rushed her to the hospital. No one understood what had happened. I did. Because in that moment, I saw the water ripple. Just once. Six months later, I got engaged. He was kind, stable, normal. He proposed in a quiet restaurant, a ring hidden in creme brulee.

She was on the ground, gasping, holding her chest. Bruises spread like ink across her ribcage. "'Not now,' she whispered. "'Not again.' They rushed her to the hospital. No one understood what had happened. I did. Because in that moment, I saw the water ripple. Just once. Six months later, I got engaged. He was kind, stable, normal. He proposed in a quiet restaurant, a ring hidden in creme brulee.

She was on the ground, gasping, holding her chest. Bruises spread like ink across her ribcage. "'Not now,' she whispered. "'Not again.' They rushed her to the hospital. No one understood what had happened. I did. Because in that moment, I saw the water ripple. Just once. Six months later, I got engaged. He was kind, stable, normal. He proposed in a quiet restaurant, a ring hidden in creme brulee.

I hesitated. I remembered white dresses soaked in blood. I said yes anyway. That night... I woke at 4.03 a.m. There were lilies on the nightstand, wet, and scrawled and red across my bathroom mirror. You said forever. My stomach twisted. My fiancé was still asleep beside me, undisturbed. I crept to the living room. Something in the shadows shifted. I could feel her. Zia.

I hesitated. I remembered white dresses soaked in blood. I said yes anyway. That night... I woke at 4.03 a.m. There were lilies on the nightstand, wet, and scrawled and red across my bathroom mirror. You said forever. My stomach twisted. My fiancé was still asleep beside me, undisturbed. I crept to the living room. Something in the shadows shifted. I could feel her. Zia.