Amy was dreaming. Her dream brought her back to when she was 8 years old, playing cards with her 6-year-old younger sister.

“One more game?” Amy was up 9 games to 8. They always played like this, often going until one of them fell asleep right there on the floor.

“You won. I’m too tired. Let’s go to sleep.” Hazel was ready to throw in the towel when Amy snapped back quickly.

“Just one more. It will be quick. Come on.”

“Fine,” Hazel drowsily uttered.

One more game turned into 7 more games. Amy knew how to keep Hazel interested in playing by letting her win a few rounds. She always made sure the games were tight until she could guarantee victory for herself when she wanted to quit. But Amy never decided when to quit. Sleep usually overtook them both before they could formally end the games.

In her dream, Amy was ready to quit. She wasn’t ready for bed, she was just ready to end the game with her sister. Hazel flipped over her last two cards. They were both black- no symbols, no numbers, just pure black. Amy looked up at Hazel. Her two eyes were glowing; all the light from her side of the room gathered in between her pupils to reflect a bright white light. The rest of her features were normal with the exception of her mouth. There was no mouth. No lips, no grooves underneath the nose. Just a normal patch of skin, as if there was never meant to be a mouth at all.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

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“Mademoiselle?”

Amy was lightheaded. She couldn’t stand up straight and reached out her hand to balance herself against the wall next to her hotel room’s front door. She looked up and said “Pardon?”

“Mademoiselle, je suis très désolé. Mais il faut que demander à vous des questions.”

“English, please,” Amy replied, attempting to conceal her French fluency from the authorities.

“She is your sister, yes?”

“Yes, yes. Yes she is.” Amy was still trying to grasp the severity of the situation.

“Neighbors said they heard arguing. What did you and your sister argue about, miss?

“Oh nothing, really. Her ex-husband left her. I had told her about him but she didn’t listen. She still loves him. I think it’s silly. Just family things.”

“And this ex-husband, he is here in Marseille? Where can we get in touch with him?”

“He moved to Thailand. He likes the girls over there. Or the boys. Not sure which one really.” Amy had no trouble lying to the police. She was used to it with Sun.

“Do you know anyone who would want to hurt her? Any enemies?”

More than I do, Amy thought. “No, she was loved by everyone who met her. She is a friendly journalist too. Why would someone take her?”

“That’s what we want to know, mademoiselle.”