Bab 5: Chapter 5: Shadows of Selene
Liam hesitated, the old man's presence pulling at his attention. Slowly, he turned, catching sight of the hunched figure standing in the doorway, partially obscured by shadows. The old man's gaze was fixed on him, his cloudy eyes filled with exhaustion that came with old age.
Without thinking, Liam began to follow as the old man shuffled deeper into the diner away from Selene , heading toward what looked like the kitchen. The dim light overhead flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls as they walked. The old man moved slowly, his back bent at an unnatural angle.
Liam's heart pounded as the silence grew unbearable. The old man stopped abruptly and turned to face him, leaning against the counter. For a moment, he said nothing, simply staring at Liam with an intensity that made his skin crawl.
Finally, the old man sighed deeply, breaking the oppressive silence. "You know, don't you?" he muttered, his voice low and gravelly. "You know about Selene."
Liam's eyes widened in shock. Relief flooded through him, cutting through his fear like a knife. "Yes!" he said quickly, his voice a little too loud in the quiet space. "Finally, someone believes me. We have to leave—now! She's not—"
But the old man shook his head slowly, his expression unreadable. "It's not that simple, boy," he murmured, his gaze drifting toward the door, where Selene had been moments before. "Selene… she's my daughter."
The old man's gaze seemed far away, as though he was staring at something only he could see. His hunched figure trembled slightly, and his voice was low and cracked when he finally spoke.
"Selene… she wasn't always like this," the old man began, his voice trembling with a mixture of grief and regret. "She was my daughter, my sweet little girl. She loved to sing, you know? Used to run around this diner when it was alive with people. She'd hum all the songs her mama taught her, charming everyone who came through those doors. This place… it was like her playground, filled with laughter and light."
His lips quivered as a fleeting, sorrowful smile crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced by a shadow of despair. "Then the outbreak came," he said, his expression darkening. "It started slow, rumors on the radio, whispers in the streets. At first, we thought it wouldn't reach us. We locked the doors, shut the world out, and tried to wait it out. For over a week, we sat in here, watching the windows, listening to the screams outside. My wife… she went to look for supplies one day and never came back."
He swallowed hard, his knuckles white as his hands gripped the counter for support. "Selene was restless, pacing up and down, worrying about her mama. I told her to stay put, to wait, but she couldn't stand it anymore. She said she was going to find her. She was just trying to help. To protect me, to keep our family together…"
His voice cracked, and he lowered his gaze. "I'll never forget the sound of the door slamming shut behind her. I wanted to stop her, but I—I couldn't move. I froze. And then, hours later, she came back. Only, it wasn't really her anymore."
Tears welled in his eyes as he continued, his voice trembling with raw emotion. "She'd been attacked, bitten. There was blood everywhere. She didn't even cry—just looked at me with those wide, terrified eyes, clutching at her arm like she was trying to hold herself together. I tried everything to save her. Bandaged her up, kept her warm, prayed that it wouldn't… that it wouldn't spread. But I could see it happening. I could see her slipping away."
The old man's hands trembled violently, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "She changed. She wasn't my Selene anymore. She attacked me, tried to rip me apart. But I couldn't hurt her. How could I? She was my baby girl." His gaze lifted to Liam, his eyes filled with a haunted look. "And then, one day, a man came. Said he could help. Gave her his blood. I don't know what it was—some kind of experiment, maybe—but she changed again. She looked like herself, almost. She could talk, could smile. But I knew… deep down, I knew it wasn't her. It wasn't my sweet, loving Selene. It was something else wearing her face."
He let out a long, shuddering sigh, his shoulders slumping. "But I couldn't let her go. I've been following her, watching her, hoping—foolishly hoping—that some part of her was still in there. That my little girl was still alive, somewhere beneath the monster." He shook his head, his voice barely audible now. "But I know… I know it's not her. It'll never be her again."
He looked up at Liam, his tear-filled eyes glinting with a maddened desperation that made Liam instinctively take a step back. The old man's hands trembled as he clung to the counter for support, his voice quivering as he spoke. "I've followed her ever since that day, hoping—praying—that maybe I was wrong. That maybe she'd come back to me. But she didn't. She never did."
His voice cracked, the raw grief in it cutting through the air like a blade. "That thing—whatever it is—it's not my Selene. It never will be. But I can't… I can't let her go. She's my little girl, my baby. I've already lost her once—I can't lose her again."
He rubbed his hands over his face as though trying to wipe away the memory, his fingers trembling as they fell to his sides. "I tried to stop her hunger at first. I locked her in a room, begged her to fight it. But she couldn't. She tore through the walls. Through the neighbors. And me? I just stood there. Watched it happen. I couldn't stop her. I couldn't bring myself to hurt her. Because no matter what she's become… she's all I got left."
His voice broke, and he let out a broken laugh, one devoid of any joy but tinged with something far more unsettling—conviction. "She's hungry… Always hungry. I've seen what she does when she feeds. It's not just killing. It's… devouring. It's something worse, something monstrous. And I tell myself it ain't her fault. I tell myself she doesn't know what she's doing. That maybe, just maybe, there's still a piece of her inside."
The old man's lips quivered into a twisted smile as he took a shaky step closer to Liam, his eyes gleaming with an almost manic light. "But even if there ain't," he whispered, his voice low but brimming with eerie determination, "I'll still be there. Watching. Helping. Whatever she needs. I'll do anything to keep her here. To make sure she never leaves me again."
Liam's breath caught in his throat as the old man's words sank in. His heart thudded violently against his chest, and his mind screamed at him to run, but his legs were frozen in place. All he could do was stare at the frail figure slowly advancing toward him, his trembling hands now eerily steady.
"She's all I have," the old man continued, his tone soft yet chilling. "And if it means I gotta stand by and watch her… even help her… I will. I'll do it. I'll do anything for my Selene. Anything."
Liam felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead. What the fuck did I get myself into? The thought echoed in his brain, but instead of panicking or thinking of a way out, his eyes were glued to the old man, who was slowly—like it was some kind of routine—pulling a knife from his back pocket. It was like watching someone take out a pair of sunglasses at the beach, as if it was completely normal.The man's unwavering gaze pinned him in place, as though daring him to move.
"And the man," Liam blurted out before he could stop himself, his voice barely above a whisper. "The one who… who gave her the blood. Who was he?"
The old man's expression shifted, his lips curling into a grimace. For a moment, his gaze flickered, as if the memory itself caused him pain. "A stranger," he murmured, his voice heavy with resentment. "He came outta nowhere. Told me he could save her. Said his blood would make her better. And I believed him. I let him near my baby girl. But he didn't save her. He made her into this."
The man's eyes snapped back to Liam, wild and furious. "And now? Now it's too late. But she's here. That's all that matters."
Liam's stomach twisted violently, the full weight of the old man's insanity crashing down on him. He took a shaky step back, his heart racing as his mind scrambled for an escape. Whatever this was, whatever Selene had become, he knew one thing for sure: he was in way over his head.
Liam's blood ran cold. His eyes flicked between the knife in the man's hands and the door behind him. His body screamed for movement, but it felt like he was frozen in place. His mind was racing a thousand miles an hour, trying to grasp what was happening, trying to understand how the situation had gotten so horribly out of control.
"Don't take her from me," the old man whimpered, his hands shaking uncontrollably now. "I can't lose her again… I can't!"
Liam could barely comprehend the madness spilling from the old man's lips. His gaze flicked toward the door, where he could feel Selene's presence, even if he couldn't see her. She was nearby, just on the other side, waiting—always waiting.
The knife was now pointed directly at Liam, and he could feel the sharp edge in the air.
The man wasn't just mad; he was dangerous.
Liam's blood ran cold, but the instinct to survive kicked in. He couldn't stand here any longer, not with that knife and the old man's frantic babbling weighing down on him. He had to move, had to get away before the situation spiraled any further. His hands were shaking, his pulse thudding in his ears.
"Don't take her from me!" the old man cried, his voice wavering with a mix of grief and hysteria. "I can't lose her again… I won't!"
Liam took a cautious step back, his hands raised defensively. The old man advanced shakily, each step as unstable as his grip on the knife. His frail frame betrayed his age, but the manic energy in his movements made him unpredictable—and dangerous.
Liam's muscles tensed. He didn't want this to escalate. He didn't want to hurt the old man. But the knife pointed at him left no room for negotiation.
"Please," the man's voice dropped to a pleading whisper, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Don't make me do this. She's my daughter… she's all I have left. I can't lose her again. Not to you, not to anyone!"
The words were like knives themselves, cutting into Liam's resolve, but his survival instincts flared stronger. The man lunged forward with sudden, erratic energy, the knife slicing through the air toward Liam's chest.
Time seemed to slow as adrenaline surged through Liam's veins. He sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the blade. His hands shot out reflexively, shoving the man away—too hard. Far too hard.
The old man stumbled backward, his legs failing to catch his weight as his feet slid across the slick floor. His frail body crumpled as he lost his footing, arms flailing uselessly for balance.
Liam's heart dropped as he watched the man's head snap backward, colliding with the sharp edge of the counter with a sickening crack. The sound echoed in the air, cutting through the silence like a thunderclap.
The old man crumpled to the floor, his body limp and lifeless, a small pool of blood beginning to form beneath his head.
Liam stood frozen, his chest heaving as the reality of what just happened slammed into him. His wide eyes locked on the still form before him, the knife now lying useless on the floor beside the man's outstretched hand.
"What the fuck…" Liam whispered under his breath, his voice trembling as he backed away. His heart pounded in his ears, his hands shaking uncontrollably.
All he could think was, What have I done?
Liam stood frozen for a second, staring at the man. His mind was racing, struggling to comprehend what had just happened. The old man was crumpled on the ground, motionless, his face contorted in a grimace of pain as a trickle of blood began to seep from the back of his head.
Liam's breath hitched in his throat, his heart hammering. The knife still lay loosely in the old man's hand, the gleaming blade now stained with a streak of blood from the wound. For a moment, everything felt unreal. The air was thick with tension, the silence oppressive.
Liam's legs felt shaky, as though his body was still processing the adrenaline coursing through him. He could feel the cold sweat dripping down his back, the fear and confusion mingling with a sense of nausea as he stared at the old man, lying motionless on the ground.
It had been self-defense, he reminded himself. The old man had been the one to charge at him. But the sight of the blood—of the old man sprawled on the floor—sent a shiver down his spine. He had never wanted this. He had only wanted to escape, to survive.
Still, Liam couldn't bring himself to approach the old man. He just stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to make sense of the chaos unfolding around him.
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