Chapter 4

The wrought iron gates of the villa swung open as Yvonne's motorcycle pulled into the driveway. The rain had just stopped, leaving the air thick with the scent of wet earth. She guided her bike expertly into the parking lot, the engine's rumble fading into the quiet of the evening. As she dismounted, the familiar scent of her mother's garden—a heady mix of sampaguita and dama de noche, now intensified by the recent rain—usually brought a sense of calm. Today, however, it did little to soothe the turmoil churning inside her. The vision still clung to her, a dark premonition she couldn't shake.

Theresa, her mother, greeted her at the entrance, her warm smile faltering slightly as she took in Yvonne's expression. "Where have you been? You seem troubled, dear," she said, her brow furrowing with concern. "Is everything alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"It was nothing, Mom. I went out with some friends," Yvonne replied, forcing a weak smile. She had stayed out longer than usual, to avoid seeing Sidney if she came home earlier. The wet asphalt and lingering raindrops on the trees seemed to mirror the unsettled feeling within her. She knew her mother saw right through her, but she wasn't ready to explain. Not yet.

"Well, come in, come in. I made your favorite, sinigang. It'll make you feel better." Theresa squeezed her hand, her touch offering a fleeting sense of comfort. Then, she turned towards the kitchen, calling out, "I'll just check on the rice."

Yvonne watched her go, feeling a pang of guilt. She didn't want to keep things from her mother, but how could she possibly explain? She had tried before, mentioning the black threads she saw around certain people, the visions of death that sometimes plagued her when she was young. Each time, Theresa had dismissed it as coincidence, gently chiding her for letting her imagination run wild. Murder? Visions? It sounds insane. How could she make her mother believe something so outlandish? Even if it is real, she sighed.

She walked upstairs, her wet boots leaving faint tracks on the polished floor, and retreated to her room, the familiar space offering little comfort. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it, a sigh escaping her lips. This was the first time one of her visions involved something so violent. A cold knot formed in her stomach.

She thought of Cara, a flood of memories washing over her: shared secrets whispered in the dark, passing notes with other classmates, laughter echoing through school hallways, eating lunch together during lunch break. It had been years since they last spoke, a chasm of unspoken words and diverging paths. How could she bridge that gap now, with something so unbelievable? "Hey, Cara, long time no see! By the way, I had a vision that you're going to be murdered." No, that would never work. It would sound ridiculous, even in a movie.

Yvonne crossed the room and collapsed on her bed, staring up at the ceiling. The threads surrounding Cara in her vision were growing in number, more suffocating with each passing moment. She felt a growing dread, a sense of helplessness. It was only a matter of time before Cara was completely surrounded by them, meeting the end she had seen. She has to do something, anything, but what?

She tossed and turned, her mind a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty. Should she call the police? Tell them she knew someone was going to be murdered and even knew the victim? They'd lock her up in a mental hospital and throw away the key. The image of Cara, vibrant and alive, laughing and carefree, flashed in her mind, juxtaposed with the chilling scene from her vision. Could she live with herself if she did nothing? If she just stood by and watched Cara walk towards her death?

She sat up abruptly, her heart pounding. No. I can't let that happen. But what can I do? She grabbed her phone, her fingers hovering over Cara's number. Think, Yvonne, think! There has to be a logical way to approach this. Some way to help Cara without sounding like a complete lunatic.

Just then, a knock came on the door. Her second brother, Zane, stood outside, his voice as usual cheerful, if a bit too loud. "Dinner's ready, Yvonne! Come down and eat. Mom cooked enough sinigang to feed the whole district!"

Yvonne sighed and tossed her phone onto the bed, the impact causing it to bounce slightly. "Coming," she called back, resignation coloring her tone. She couldn't think of a single plausible explanation, a way to convey the urgency she felt without sounding completely deranged. Besides, the aroma wafting from downstairs was making her stomach growl in protest. Maybe some sinigang will clear my head, she thought, pushing herself off the bed.

She opened the door. Standing outside was Zane, tall and lanky, dressed in his usual oversized clothes, with a wide grin plastered on his handsome face. A few droplets of rain clung to his hair, evidence that he'd been outside recently.

Zane looked her up and down, his grin faltering slightly. "Yo—you look awful. What is it? Did Father take your motorcycle keys?"

Yvonne rolled her eyes at him. "None of those, and why would Father take my keys? Father and Mother should take your car keys. You're driving it like a sports car."

Zane chuckled, unfazed. "Hey, I'm a skilled driver! Besides, someone's gotta get the groceries, right? You coming or what? Mom's sinigang is legendary, you know. Don't want to miss out." He gestured towards the stairs with a playful shove. "Come on, zombie-face. Let's go."

Yvonne shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her worries. "Fine, fine. You only volunteered so you can buy snacks along the way." She followed him towards the stairs, the familiar banter easing some of the tension in her shoulders.

While eating dinner, her mother, Theresa, mentioned that they would be having dinner with Sidney's family tommorow. This added another layer of anxiety for Yvonne, who didn't like Sidney for reasons she couldn't quite articulate. Her gut feeling about her was always unsettling.

After dinner, she washed the dishes, the soapy water doing little to cleanse the troubling thoughts swirling in her mind. The rain had stopped completely now, but the air still felt heavy, mirroring the weight in her heart. Exhausted and overwhelmed, she eventually fell asleep, hoping for a respite from her visions, even if only for a few hours.

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