Night 2: The Omen

　　Yvonne was almost a full hour later than usual.

　　Running to the door of her house, the young girl in the rain sighed softly.

　　The umbrella didn't seem to be able to cover anything, and Yvonne shook out her shoulder-length hair, shaking off the water droplets from her hair piggyback.

　　Just before she opened the door to her home, the lively laughter in the house was so clear, but it stopped the moment she entered.

　　She didn't lose her head, stripped off her soaked shoes and socks, and waited for permission to enter the house.

　　"Evina, why are you back so late?"

　　"I ..." Ivina hesitated, he didn't want to lie to his stepfather, no, not to anyone in the name of Christianity.

　　The lack of concern, the cold tone of her stepfather's voice, was colder than the storm outside the door, but what was the point, after several years she was almost used to it.

　　"Let's see... ..." Leia trailed off in a deliberately long tone to get attention.

　　"It's not my Sister Evina's birthday, she must have gone to that filthy second-hand bookstore to pick up some bargains. Look at that, it's like we forgot, she must be sad now, sis, right?"

　　Evina's heart chilled completely, this was her sister, wasn't it, a relative with one-half of the same blood of the earth in her veins.

　　Barely holding on to a smile, Evina's calm eyes turned to her mother, Isandra. She wished, extravagantly, for a 'Happy Birthday.'

　　But it was her beautiful, indifferent mother who swayed in her eyes.

　　In the heart, it was a wave of bitterness.

　　"I've had some snacks out ... Dad, Mom, and Sister Enjoy yourselves." Dragging her tired steps up the stairs, she knew that no one was going to keep her for this dinner.

　　***

　　By the time she had done all the chores, Evina was sore. Sprawled out on her humble bed, she fell beautifully into the scent of sleep.

　　She had a strange dream.

　　Confusing, dim, grotesque sequences and scenes. A man in grotesque garb, entranced, looked at her with heartbreaking despair ... The image skipped like a signal break. Now she walks alone, rambling. Suddenly, a hunchbacked crone knelt in front of her, and she hurriedly bent down to try to help the frail old man up ... Only to see a wrinkled face with dry cheeks raised in horror, her skin ghastly white but her face full of pus-filled tumors, her features twisted, and she cried out in a heartbreaking cry, 'Help me, help me! Ah ...'

　　"Stay back! Stay back!" Yvonne woke from her sleep in a cold sweat. It was the first time in seventeen years that she had slept that distracted.

　　A cool breeze filtered through the window, and she had to cover her bedding tightly and go back to sleep. But a vague uneasiness surprisingly lingered.

　　Is it missing dad? That's right, today is her birthday and she forgot to make a wish to him... no wonder dad wants to punish me by making me have nightmares!

　　Evina tapped her forehead and made a face towards the dark night sky. It was only with her father that she had such a naughty side.

　　"Well, it's so late, I hope Daddy doesn't go to bed first, your little baby ... is here to talk to you ...."

　　Evina carefully pulled out the yellowed piece of paper, tears already streaming down her face out of control.

　　''Today is March 9th, your birthday. Dad was supposed to be by your side to congratulate you. But I feel like my life is passing by so fast that even lifting my hand to write now takes effort. But Nana, my dear daughter, happy birthday. Allow me to repay every birthday of your long life ahead with only one blessing. You'll be pouting and asking me for a present, won't you. I have already prepared for you, but unfortunately ... there are only eight copies. Each one is a book ... that I have chosen for you with all my heart, but unfortunately, there are only eight copies. And my only wish before I leave, is that you, Nana, will come to make up for my regrets as a father, and on every birthday in the future, choose a good book for yourself, and when you miss me, open them up and read them to your book-loving dad, okay?

　　Don't be sad, Daddy is always there for you, watching my daughter who makes me proud overcome her setbacks, smile and say to me 'Daddy, I'm happy'.

　　Take care of yourself.

　　My little baby, Nana.

　　Several lines apart, blurry words appear again.

　　Nana, actually ...'

　　Below the drop was a puddle of blood that Dad wanted to add, the last sentence obscured by a blood stain.

　　When she was a child, she was very curious about what exactly her father would write down. But as she gradually grew up, she knew how to gradually heartache the puddle of stale blood stains, that was originally piercingly fishy red, right, how much pain her father had to endure at that time ...

　　The handwriting on the paper had blurred beyond recognition with time. But what harm could it do, she knew it by heart.