Broken(DC)

My miserable day finally came to an end when I returned home. Alfred helped me carry my sister into the house. Right after that, the butler bid me goodbye and left, though he had wanted to stay. I assured him that everything was fine and allowed him to go.

When I was finally alone at home, I washed the blood off myself and changed into clean clothes. I also changed Alice into fresh clothes. I decided not to tell her what had happened, simply saying she had fallen asleep, and I'd brought her home. To shake off the stress of the day, I decided to cook. For dinner, I settled on making a blueberry cheesecake—a real flavor bomb. The kind of dessert where, once you take a bite, you just can't stop.

The recipe was fairly simple:

Step 1: I prepared the crust with shortbread dough. To make it, I mixed flour, sugar, and butter until it reached a crumbly texture. I spread the mixture evenly across the bottom of a baking pan to create the base.

Step 2: I placed blueberries and cream cheese into a bowl. Using a blender, I mixed them together until smooth. I added a little sugar and vanilla extract for taste and blended it again.

Step 3: I poured the mixture over the crust and smoothed it out. Then, I placed the pan in the fridge to chill.

Step 4: Once the cheesecake had fully set, I melted some white chocolate and drizzled it over the top to create a glaze. For the finishing touch, I decorated it with fresh blueberries for a beautiful presentation.

Finally, I put it back in the fridge.

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While I was cooking, time flew by, and soon the clock hands pointed to six, signaling Elizabeth's return home. Glancing out the window, I saw her car pulling into the driveway. The sedative gas should have worn off by now, so I hurried to wake Alice.

When I entered her room, she was still sound asleep on the bed. I gently tried to wake her. She started stirring slightly, rolling over before finally opening her eyes. She looked at me with confusion.

"Awake?" I asked.

"Is it morning already?" she asked groggily.

"No, it's still evening. You fell asleep so deeply on the bus that I had to carry you home," I lied.

"Really? I don't remember that at all." Her brow furrowed, as if she was trying to recall what had happened. "I must have really been out."

"Maybe you didn't sleep well last night, and the exhaustion caught up to you?" I suggested, trying to steer her thoughts away.

"Yeah, I guess so. But…" She started to say something but then stopped abruptly. Her nose twitched as she leaned closer to sniff my shirt. "Did you make cheesecake?"

"Yes, it's ready and waiting in the fridge," I replied. "Mom's already home, so I thought it would be nice to invite you for dinner."

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!" She grabbed my hand excitedly and pulled me downstairs.

We all enjoyed a delicious dinner together, and the warm, cozy atmosphere helped me finally relax. Spending some pleasant time in front of the TV afterward allowed my thoughts to settle. Soon, it was time for bed. The much-needed sleep washed away all my exhaustion and tension.

It felt like only a moment had passed before Christmas was upon us. School subjects were left behind as the holidays began. Snow covered the city, giving an unusual charm to this already extraordinary place.

A month had passed since the ill-fated kidnapping incident. Most of the children had been successfully returned home, their memories of the ordeal wiped clean—including Alice's. However, detectives still paid me a visit, asking for detailed accounts of what had happened at the police station. They suggested I undergo therapy, given the fact that a child had killed two people. But I explained that I was fully aware of my actions and had acted solely to protect my sister.

The police department had a forensic pathologist who was also a former psychiatrist. She was given clearance to speak with me and determine whether I was mentally stable.

She was a very pleasant woman, around thirty years old, dressed in a professional suit. Her black hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her expressive eyebrows accentuated her facial features. From the outset, she created a comfortable atmosphere, and as she learned more of my story, her demeanor grew even kinder. We had a good conversation, and she even treated me to some delicious pastries.

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Following her evaluations, the detectives received a report confirming my complete mental stability and the absence of any disorders. After that, the police left me alone.

As for my friend Bruce, Alfred told him everything. Bruce tried his best to support me, though I found his constant attention slightly irritating. Still, I appreciated his concern.

I managed to secure a transfer to higher grades. It turned out I had fully mastered the elementary curriculum and could have jumped straight to middle school. However, due to my age, they decided to place me two grades ahead instead. This meant I ended up in the same class as my sister. Once we were together, she flat-out refused to leave my side, always staying close to me. And, truthfully, I couldn't bring myself to separate from her either.

Our hand-to-hand combat training was progressing very well. My skills were advancing much faster than Alice's, even though she only passed on what she had learned herself. Every technique we practiced seemed to sink into me like a sponge, becoming second nature. During one session, Alice attempted to attack me with all her strength, but it was as though I could predict her moves, effortlessly dodging each strike.

My knife skills had reached an extraordinary level. I learned to pinpoint exactly where to throw a knife by the slightest sound. Sight was no longer necessary. I achieved this by practicing with water bottles, cracking them open slightly so water droplets would fall onto a stone and create a tapping sound. I trained myself to determine where each drop came from and throw knives at those points. Over time, I began to notice other sounds and mastered blind knife-throwing entirely.

I also didn't neglect my regeneration abilities. I would deliberately inflict wounds to accelerate their healing. However, I noticed that cutting myself was becoming more difficult. My skin had grown tougher, requiring greater effort to make even a small cut. This led me to realize another potential enhancement to my abilities. My body seemed capable of developing immunity to blades and bullets, like something out of a comic book. However, this ability wasn't progressing as quickly as before and eventually slowed almost to a halt. It seemed that knife wounds no longer contributed to my development; I would need different types of damage to continue evolving.

That was how my days passed. Today, however, there was a Christmas concert at school, where Alice was set to perform. She would be playing a part in a small Christmas play. Even Mom wanted to attend the show.

The performance was scheduled to begin promptly at 10:00, but we planned to arrive an hour early so my sister could prepare for her role.

"Kids, hurry up! It's time to go," came Mom's voice from downstairs.

We dashed down the stairs, already dressed and ready for the trip. Today, we were dressed festively, donning our best outfits for the occasion.

The drive to school was quick, and the building was still fairly empty when we arrived. However, more and more people were streaming in by the minute. Since Alice was part of the performance, we were allowed backstage to keep her company. From there, we watched as the stage crew prepared the decorations and the actors put on their costumes.

This year's Christmas production was The Nutcracker, a classic that's often performed at holiday events across America. Alice had been cast as the Sugar Plum Fairy, the ruler of the Land of Sweets. It was a role that suited her perfectly, considering her notorious sweet tooth.

In the play, Alice was to perform a special dance she had been rehearsing for months. It was fascinating to watch the lighting being adjusted and the final rehearsals taking place before the show. Seeing the magic of the stage from the audience is one thing, but peeking behind the curtain was an entirely different experience.

With only five minutes left until the start, we took our seats in the audience. The hall was already packed, buzzing with anticipation. At last, the lights dimmed, and music filled the air. The curtains slid apart, revealing a festive holiday scene: a home decorated for Christmas, with tables overflowing with food.

Personally, I wasn't particularly interested in the play itself. I didn't fully understand the appeal of these events. To me, they seemed more for the parents—giving them a chance to watch their children perform and feel proud. So, I watched the performance with mild boredom, waiting for my sister's turn to take the stage.

When Alice finally appeared, Mom immediately started clapping enthusiastically, clearly delighted with her darling daughter. Alice was dressed in a shimmering white gown adorned with glittering sequins. On her head rested a small tiara, her feet were clad in ballet slippers, and she wore long gloves on her arms. She looked incredibly graceful and elegant, like she had stepped straight out of a fairy tale.

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Alice twirled gracefully across the stage, each movement imbued with elegance. Watching her perform was a true delight. The spotlight gently illuminated her figure, creating a magical aura. The entire audience was captivated by her performance.

After her solo, other characters joined her on stage, and together they concluded the show with a polished group dance. As the music ended, all the performers stepped forward to take their well-deserved bow. The hall erupted in applause, and I joined in, clapping enthusiastically to show my support.

Once the actors left the stage, the house lights came back on, and the audience began to disperse. We made our way to the so-called dressing room, where the performers had prepared for their roles. We waited for about ten minutes before Alice finally emerged in her everyday clothes.

"How did I do?" she asked nervously.

"Darling, you were magnificent. Everyone was amazed. You should consider a career in theater," Mom said, her voice brimming with pride.

"Really?" Alice asked, looking over at me for confirmation.

"Yes, I watched with bated breath. You were stunning, and your dance moved me deeply," I replied sincerely.

"Thank you," she said, throwing her arms around us in a warm hug.

"All right, let's get going. We still have plans to visit the amusement park," Elizabeth reminded us. Today, we had decided to stop by the park and try our luck at winning some prizes. With my aim, I was sure I could snag a couple of them.

Grabbing our coats, we headed for the car. Outside the school, a small traffic jam had formed as everyone tried to leave at once, creating chaos. It took about half an hour for the situation to clear up enough for us to get moving.

On the way to the park, I noticed several emergency vehicles—ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars—rushing through the streets. A heavy atmosphere seemed to hang over the city. It made me wonder if there were truly so many incidents occurring to warrant such activity.

Inside, I felt a gnawing sense of unease, a familiar warning. Danger was nearby. My eyes scanned the surroundings, trying to identify the source, but I couldn't pinpoint it. As we passed through an intersection, gunfire suddenly erupted. I saw figures in trench coats shooting at each other.

Elizabeth panicked, slamming her foot on the gas, but lost control of the car and crashed into another vehicle. The impact was jarring. Seat belts locked tight across our bodies, but I still banged my head against the front seat. My vision blurred for a moment, and nausea crept in. Outside, the gunfire continued unabated.

My seat belt jammed, refusing to budge. Shaking, I reached for the knife in my chest pocket and cut myself free. I did the same for Alice's belt. Opening my door, I stepped out and took stock of the situation. Several cars were involved in the crash, and one of them was starting to smoke. If flames broke out, the leaking fuel and oil would ignite into an inferno.

I needed to get my mom and sister out of the car, fast.

As I circled to the back of the vehicle, a sudden instinct kicked in, and I dropped to the ground. A car screeched up, its windows lowered, barrels of guns sticking out as they sprayed bullets indiscriminately. The urgency of the situation was clear—we had to get away immediately.

I crawled to the other side of the car and opened the door. Alice was unconscious and unresponsive. However, Elizabeth seemed to have regained consciousness and was trying to free herself. I moved to help her, stabbing the airbag with my knife to deflate it. Once it deflated, I cut her seat belt loose.

She was disoriented, so I gave her a few sharp slaps on the cheeks. The stinging pain seemed to snap her out of it, and she glared at me with indignation.

"What do you think you're doing?" she snapped angrily.

"We need to move. It's dangerous out here," I explained as calmly as I could. "Alice is unconscious. We have to carry her to safety."

My words seemed to have an effect on Elizabeth. She immediately looked around, climbed out of the car, and rushed to Alice to check her condition. Bullets zipped past again, striking our car and the nearby vehicles. Flames erupted close by, spreading rapidly. Elizabeth let out a frightened scream and clung to Alice, frozen in place. I couldn't carry both her and Alice; I needed to snap her out of it again.

"Pull yourself together! The fire is spreading! If we don't leave now, we'll die! Please, take Alice, let's go!" I shouted.

At last, she stood, holding Alice in her arms. I grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the nearest building. It seemed absurd, but the safest place right now was the narrow alleyways. As we approached one, I heard the cry of a child calling for their father. Looking around, I saw that the sound came from one of the crashed cars. In the front seat, the father was unconscious, blood trickling from his head, while the child was desperately shaking him, sobbing.

The fire was spreading quickly, engulfing the wrecked cars. It wouldn't be long before it reached them too. If no one helped, they wouldn't survive. I looked for anyone nearby who could assist but saw only people frantically fleeing, focused on saving themselves.

I'm just a kid—what can I possibly do? But something deep inside me screamed: You must help.

"Go to the alley. I'll help those people," I said to my mom before running toward the trapped victims.

I decided to start with the child, who couldn't have been more than four years old and was incapable of escaping on their own. Opening the back door, I carefully lifted the child into my arms and sprinted back to the alley, where my mom and Alice were. I left the child with them and immediately ran back to help the father.

He was in a much worse situation. The front of the car had crumpled, pinning his legs. He was still unconscious, with blood running down his face from a deep gash likely caused by flying debris. I unclasped his seatbelt and assessed the situation. His legs were completely trapped. I wasn't strong enough to free him on my own. Hoping for a tool, I opened the car's trunk and was relieved to find a crowbar.

Racing back, I tried to use the crowbar to create some space, but my strength wasn't enough. A nearby explosion rocked the area, showering us with debris and heat. Flames were licking closer to the car, and the hood of the vehicle was now on fire. Time was running out.

Desperation surged through me. I braced myself and pushed with all the strength I had. Pain shot through my muscles as if they were tearing apart. I screamed, a primal roar erupting from my throat: "AARRRGHH!" It sounded more like a growl, but it gave me the adrenaline I needed. The twisted metal began to shift. Slowly, I managed to move it just enough.

The heat was becoming unbearable. Flames licked at my arms as I wedged the crowbar to hold the metal in place and freed the man's legs. He was heavy—far too heavy for me to carry—but somehow, I lifted him. Sweat and ash blurred my vision as I staggered away from the car. Behind us, the vehicle erupted into a fireball, sending out a shockwave.

Time seemed to slow. I felt the searing heat of the explosion slam into my back. Pain consumed me, as if I were being burned alive.

Is this how it ends?