I wanted to scream so loud the ground beneath me would tremble—maybe even collapse too. Preferably, somewhere alone in the dark. No people, no animals. Somewhere nobody would hurt except for me. Though I do wish someone could hear me one day, and if by some miracle they don't die then they would realize I too, crave the silence.

The same silence that allows you to hear a thousand feathers dropped on sand, soft and soundless. A disguised bliss. But from my twenty-two years of experience in this world, I've discovered that the way to guarantee such tranquility is to die. Everyone is bound for it—even monsters.

One day will be my day. One day.

"Are you even listening to me?" A sharp voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

I blinked a couple of times before I focused on the woman sitting in front of me.

My therapist, Dr. Fernanda Navarro, was dressed in her uniform white coat with her usual brown hair pulled into a high ponytail and gold-rimmed glasses. I forgot she was here. My therapist was my least favorite person to see and I don't see that many people. Each time she walked into my room, I would feel the air suddenly become thick and suffocating. My muscles would spasm like something wanted to get out. But it was her unnecessary poking that made me uncomfortable. Her questions were absurd and annoying. Sometimes I felt like she was trying to tell me something.

But I didn't care. I wouldn't bother with her nonsense.

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you hearing them right now? Are they speaking to you?" Dr. Navarro has asked this question once too many times for my liking.

I swallowed my irritation and answered. "No."

She scrutinized her gaze as if it would help her detect a lie. It almost made me smile. Over the past four years, I've been here at St. Agnes Hospital, I've perfected my lying skills and successfully executed them on Dr. Navarro. It hasn't been easy but it was safer. Fewer people hurt less while I'm here.

But I didn't want to be stuck here forever. I've been doing well. I've been handling it better. The voices in my head have been manageable. They've been calm and quiet. I think I'm doing fine. I think I'm ready to leave.

Dr. Navarro sighed and rolled her chair over to the edge of the bed frame. "Well, you've made outstanding progress these past months and your evaluations are good. I believe we can get you discharged by this afternoon." I nodded my head as she shifted through the paperwork. "But, I do just have two more questions for you." I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I know I wasn't her favorite patient to see either.

She always walked in with a look that said what am I going to do with you? Doesn't she see I'm helping her get rid of myself? I should've been discharged in the morning. I couldn't blame her entirely, I was partially to blame for being admitted here in the first place.

I uttered. "Go ahead. Ask away."

Dr. Navarro neatly stacked my file on her lap and pushed her glasses upward. "The day your mother died..." I bite the inside of my cheek. "Do you still not remember what happened? Do you remember anything at all?" she asked the last question out of breath, sounding desperate.

I fucking hated these questions.

Ever since Dr. Navarro found out I was with my mother on the night she died, I admitted I had no recollection of what happened and she has been persistent in trying to get me to talk and think about that night as if I were missing something. But each session we had, she would fail. Today would be no different. I might not remember the night my mother died, but I know what happened to her. There was nothing special about it. My mother accidentally left the stove on and lit the house on fire, and I almost would've died too if it wasn't for my grandmother who saved me.

I only remember the feeling and what I felt afterward—a drowning sadness and it has never left my heart.

I confirmed it again. "As I've told you before, nothing comes to mind." She slightly turned her neck sideways. "Think about it, Miss De Luna. Do you remember the flames? The heat? Doesn't it bother you that your house caught on fire and your mother's body wasn't burnt? That you weren't burnt either?" she insisted.

Tell me she dies soon, I thought aloud in my head. The voices remained quiet. They liked to speak whenever they felt like it and paid no attention to any of my thoughts and feelings. They happily lived and leeched off my head.

I stayed quiet for a second more and firmly said. "No, I don't remember anything." I slowly turned away and placed my feet on the cold floor. A sense of relief washed through my body.

"I still have one more question," said Dr. Navarro.

This time I raised a brow. "This is more than what you asked for."

She exhaled. "I just wanted to give you one last opportunity to talk about your mother. I thought you would've liked to know what your last moments were with her." Of course, I do, but my mother was a strong brave woman and I couldn'timagine her defenseless, hopeless. "We've been in this room for four years, and not once you've spoken about your family. It's like they don't exist." she then says, quickly. "My apologies, I overstepped. Family questions are over."

I looked down at my hospital gown, my hand curled at the hem. My family does exist, only they are buried six feet underground.

She finally said her last question, and I hoped she hadn't. "Did you hear anything on the night June Brown died?" she asked.

My mind wandered back to that awful day.

We shared this room. She was a few years younger than me, maybe nineteen or twenty. She was a nice girl with short cinnamon hair and a heart-shaped face. She was smiling. But of course, it was a false smile. June had finished her first year of university and it was not at all what she had expected. She was severely stressed and depressed by the end of it.

Still, June came to St. Agnes Hospital with high hopes she could continue to study to become a veterinarian.

I didn't want anything to do with her. I didn't want to ruin her dreams and hopes. I didn't want to kill it—kill her.

Except one day, she accidentally bumped into me while I was heading into our room and she apologized quickly and left. But the damage had been done. The voices make a dreadful noise in my head like a slithery poison drowning into my bones, blood, and heart. My head spun and my vision blurred. I chased after her until I found her in the bathroom. There she was—June Brown lying in a pool of blood. My knees hit the ground and I crawled to her.

I bit my tongue down so hard.

I could not scream. I could not scream. I could not scream.

The voices grew louder and I couldn't think or listen. A large lump in my throat begged to be released. Someone then found me and they screamed. I was pulled away from June Brown as if I had been the one to attack her. Maybe I did. I listened to what would become of her and let her die. I didn't do anything. I didn't stop the bleeding.

Only the good and the young, they whispered. Only the good and the young.

I blinked. "I don't think I heard anything. I just saw she didn't look well and followed her into the bathroom." I plainly said.

Dr. Navarro didn't seem to believe me, but she nodded anyway. "Okay, I'll get the paperwork ready for you while you pack your belongings." She got up from her rolling chair and started heading toward the door but before she left, she looked back at me. "Not everyone will understand you but you're strong enough to know that." I frowned. "But word of advice, stay away from corpses, and good luck in college. Tu vida comienza ahora." She swiftly opened the door and left me in solitude.

I stood up and looked over at the empty bed near mine. I wish I could say June Brown is the last person whose death I will predict, but there will be another and one after that one. Not everyone can escape my cursed tongue. Death upon death. The cycle does not end for the banshee.

*****

University might be unsuitable for me, too many people. Still, I came regardless of what could happen and kept my mother and grandmother in my thoughts like holding a hand. I'm doing this for them. They would've wanted me to try to be normal. It's a little hard. I have to be careful not to make any lasting eye contact and avoid bumping into anyone. Or else they would think it's an invitation to prey on lives.

My senses were on high alert. My eyes moved quickly from face to face, and I moved my torso or feet in a different direction before anyone could accidentally come into contact with me. I only had a couple of moments where I could breathe properly without worrying about hearing someone's death. I tried walking in the dark mostly, there were fewer people on the streets.

Yet, somehow I made it to the third week of school and the weather is slowly getting colder.

The trees' leaves changed from green to yellow, soon they will be orange and red. I walked down the campus paths as cool winds pushed through my hair while I kept my arms wrapped around myself. I enjoyed what I could.

It was past four o'clock and fewer students were on campus at this time, but still many walked through the quad. A couple of organizations were set up down the four pathways promoting and encouraging other students to join or participate. As I continued my walk, I passed a folkloric dance club and I slowed my steps looking at the girls with bright flowers in their hair as they twirled their dresses. I was like them once, I used to have an audience too. I missed the noise I made for them.

I moved along.

Sometimes I think about how much easier it would be if I went back to St. Agnes Hospital and locked myself there again.

Then I wouldn't have to face the world alone.

Suddenly my foot tripped over a crack, and my knees hit the cement. I smacked my palms hard against it, keeping my face from touching the sidewalk. A rough stinging ensued on the edge of my palms. Students passed, muffling their laughs and giggles. My cheeks redden. I slowly started to stand up when a hand pulled my arm upward.

My instincts kicked in and I yanked my arm from this hand.

I turned around to see a boy around my age with brown curls hanging down his forehead. They slightly covered his eyes, but I'm more concerned about the prickling sensation around my arm. I grasped where he placed his hand. Dammit.

I heard a murmur, and I took a couple of steps back.

He cleared his throat. "Are you okay? That was a bad fall." I tried to shake off my head as if that could get rid of what I was about to hear.

The hopeless boy tilted his head sideways, his brows furrowed looking now worried. "Hey, you look a little pale. Do you want me—"

"I'm fine." I snapped.

His eyes slightly widened.

I needed to look away. I needed to leave and run away somewhere. Yet, they've already begun singing their deadly lullaby and made their echoes gnaw on my rotten brain. I still had time before they became louder.

The boy spoke again, still concerned. "Are you sure?" I looked away from him, nodding till I saw a pair of fliers in one of his hands. A stack of orange papers with black block letters that read HALLOWEEN MASQUERADE. I frowned. It was still early September. Too early for Halloween festivities.

He quickly raised the fliers and pulled one out, handing over it to me. "Well, if you don't have a concussion or anything. You should come to the masquerade party. I think you'll be good by then." he offered as he waited for me to grab the filer.

My hand hesitantly reached for the filer. "Isn't it a bit early for Halloween stuff?" He shoved the filer into my hand, and his skin grazed my wrist. A violent shiver ran down my spine.

The boy smiled. "Yes, but we want you to save the date. Save your trick or treat for the morning." he rambled on. "This isn't just any party. It's going be a big ass party, and probably the best one you will ever know. Everyone is going to be there. Alright, look, I shouldn't be saying this but I have this friend and he is getting this famous DJ..." His lips continued to move but I could no longer hear what he was saying.

The voices sharpened their teeth pressing them against my ears. They whispered their curses about the boy with freckles across his nose and cheeks.

The deer stands naively on the day of Samhain.

I gasped loud enough for the boy to stop talking and stared at me oddly. I looked away as the words repeated in my head like a nail being hammered in. My throat felt tight. Before he spoke any further, I quickly said. "Thanks for the help, but I have to get going." I started walking away heading to my class again.

The boy shouted. "My name is Theodore, but you call me Theo! I hope to get your name at the party!" I moved my legs faster.

I pressed my hands over my ears, digging my nails into my skin as if I could rip them. I kept my head down until I found a dark corner without any eyes or ears nearby. Only then did the voices quieten their temper. I pulled my phone out to check the time and realized I missed my class. Fuck. I couldn't miss my classes every time I accidentally brushed past someone or looked at them. I needed to do something about them. But the thought of Theodore dying on the day of Samhain was bothering me more. The voices have never been so clear with their foretelling. It was strange.

I looked down at the orange flier in my hand. I had more than a month to think about if I wanted to save Theodore's life. Should I watch him die or should I help him? 

Maybe, I should do neither. 

 Second meetings were not coincidences, they were a deadly fate sealed.