Episode 8 :Everything Has Become a Mess

The weight of everything was crushing Ama. The more she tried to escape it, the tighter it wrapped around her. Everything was a mess—no, a nightmare that refused to end. The murders, the whispers, the shadows creeping closer. Someone had tried to kill Kayol. Someone had tried to kill Jade. And now… someone was after her.

Why? 

What had she done? What did they want from her? Why was she their next target?

And as if the universe hadn't thrown enough chaos at her, James had to go and drop his confession like a ticking time bomb. Just hearing his name brought a rush of childhood memories, vivid and raw, playing like a film reel in her mind.

She saw him—seven-year-old James—new to the neighborhood, shy and reserved. She had approached him with all the energy of a child, grinning wide despite her missing front teeth. But instead of responding, James had turned and bolted like he was running a marathon. She had laughed so hard that day.

She remembered the first time she had saved him—from bullies who thought he was an easy target. That day, they had become inseparable. Sharing chocolates, playing together, him teaching her how to play the piano. Their bond had only grown stronger over time.

Until Mark came back.

She had been so excited to see Mark after his long vacation. She couldn't wait to introduce him to James. And James—sweet, little James—had been just as eager. But the moment Mark saw them together, something dark twisted in his expression. He loathed it. He loathed James.

And Mark made sure she chose.

Little Ama, caught between five years of deep friendship with Mark and a blooming connection with James, had picked the dried flower instead of the blooming one. And she had regretted it ever since. She had let James slip away, had let Mark push him out of her life. And after Mark's mother died, when Mark became cruel, when he treated her like nothing—she had regretted it even more.

Tears blurred her vision. She hadn't even realized she was crying until the first sob escaped her lips. Hurriedly, she wiped her face and rushed into the bathroom, needing a moment alone. She locked the door behind her, pressing her palms against the cold sink, trying to steady her breath.

"Hey, Ama. Why are you crying?"

absent-mindedly, i murmur "nothing Kayol just something got into my eyes

then a wave of realisation hitted her 

Ama's heart nearly stopped.

That voice—

Her head jerked up, scanning the empty space. No one was there. 

A chill ran down her spine.

Her mind was playing tricks on her. That's all it was. Kayol had always been there to comfort her, to wipe her tears. It was just a memory. Just exhaustion.

But then—

"Look up, Ama."

The voice was closer this time.

She hesitated. Every nerve in her body screamed not to look. But something compelled her. Slowly, her gaze lifted to the mirror.

And she froze.

Kayol was there. Standing inside the mirror. Smiling warmly, just like she used to when she was alive.

Ama's blood ran cold. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real.

She turned sharply, expecting—hoping—to see someone behind her. But there was no one. Just cold, empty air.

Slowly, dread pooling in her stomach, she turned back to the mirror.

Kayol's smile was gone.

Her lips trembled. Her eyes welled with tears—red, thick, bloodied tears that rolled down her cheeks in thick streams. And then, slowly, the bruises began to appear.

Dark splotches under her eyes. A split lip. Jagged scars slashed across her cheeks. Her skin became a canvas of violence—of pain—of something horrifyingly brutal. Her sobs grew louder, wretched and broken. The reflection trembled as Kayol's voice cracked.

"Look, Ama… look at what that murderer did to me."

She lifted her hands, revealing deep, gaping wounds—gashes that oozed, that screamed of suffering. 

"It hurts, Ama. It hurts so much. Please… please look."

Ama's breath came in gasps, her chest tight with terror. She wanted to scream. Wanted to move. Wanted to do anything but stare.

But then Kayol's sobs twisted into something else.

A scream.

A wild, shrieking wail that made the walls tremble. Her face twisted, contorted in agony, her mouth stretching unnaturally wide as she wailed. The sound ripped through the air, through Ama's skull, through her entire being.

Ama stumbled back, her hand fumbling for the door. The mirror shook violently, cracks webbing across the glass as Kayol's reflection screamed louder, louder—

Ama ran.

She burst out of the bathroom, her breath ragged, heart hammering, and slammed straight into someone.