Melody of darkness

Sobs broke from her lips, painful and uncontrollable. She gasped for air, feeling panic swell in her chest. Memories suffocated her like a noose. Once again, the past. This time vivid, colorful, deceptive. She stood in a square, surrounded by a crowd of people. Ancient Korea. Traditional costumes fluttering in the wind, joyful faces anticipating a celebration. Everything around her breathed life and energy. And she… she was at the center of this festivity. Her voice, strong and pure, filled the space, penetrating the depths of the soul. She sang. She sang of love, of hope, of the beauty of the world. She sang as her mother had taught her. The crowd stood mesmerized, enchanted by her voice. People cried, laughed, danced, forgetting all their troubles. They bestowed upon her their love, their energy, their souls. And she… she took it from them. To the melodic sounds of her voice, the demons surrounding the square gathered the energy of the ecstatic audience, like ripe fruit from a tree. Energy that fed Gi-ma, strengthened his power, made him stronger. She was merely an instrument in his hands. A beautiful puppet singing songs of death. And the worst part was that at that moment, she didn’t realize it. She was blind, deaf, dazzled by her new voice and the attention it brought her. She believed she was doing good, bringing joy and comfort to people. She didn’t see the tragedy unfolding behind her. And then… she saw. In the eyes of an old man standing in the front row, she saw not delight but horror. He tried to say something, but his voice was drowned out by her singing. He tried to stop her, but his hands were weak and powerless. He died right before her eyes, giving his last drop of energy to Gi-ma. And then she understood. Her voice was a curse. Her gift was a weapon. Her singing was death. The memory dissolved, leaving Aisha alone in the dark motel room. She lay on the bed, tears streaming down her face, feeling dirty and guilty. "Oh my God…" she whispered, choking on her sobs. "What have I done…" She covered her face with her hands, trying to stifle her cries. But the tears flowed like a river, washing away the remnants of hope and faith in herself. She was a monster. She had always been a monster. And her voice was merely proof of that. The tears dried on her cheeks, leaving behind a sticky sensation of hopelessness. She felt broken, crushed, stripped of any hope for salvation. But suddenly, a melody surfaced in her mind. Soft, tender, like the touch of a mother’s hand. A lullaby. The song her mother sang to her when she was little. A song that had lulled her to sleep in childhood, giving her a sense of safety and love. A song she had almost forgotten. Instinctively, as if obeying an ancient call, she opened her mouth and tried to sing. Her voice was a bit hoarse, trembling, as if after a long silence. But it was there. Her voice. She closed her eyes and pictured her mother’s face, her kind smile, her warm hands. And she began to sing. "In the quiet river of the Milky Way, Little stars whisper. Like a dream, the song of the homeland rises, Forget all painful memories. If you sleep under the pure moonlight, It will be cozy, like in a mother’s embrace. Tomorrow, the bright sun will rise, To make all sorrow disappear." Each word resonated with pain in her heart. Each note reminded her of what she had lost. Of her childhood, of her family, of her humanity. But along with the pain, she felt something else. Hope. At that moment, as she sang the lullaby, she ceased to be a demon, an instrument of Gi-ma, a killer. She became once again the little girl loved by her mother. She felt human again. Her voice grew more confident, stronger, as if driving the darkness from her soul. The motel room seemed to brighten, to become cozier. She sang and cried, sang and prayed, sang and hoped. This lullaby was her salvation. Her medicine. Her prayer. When she finished, silence hung in the room. But it was no longer the oppressive silence of despair; it was the silence of peace and hope. Aisha opened her eyes, feeling a little better. She was still scared, confused, alone. But she was no longer broken. She had hope. And she had a voice. But then, realization struck her. She had to give up this voice. She had long dreamed of singing her mother’s song. She had longed to feel human again. But she had always been afraid to use that voice, afraid to tarnish her mother’s memory, afraid that Gi-ma would take it back. But now she understood. She didn’t need that voice. Rather, she needed it only to free herself from Gi-ma’s power. She would no longer allow him to control her life. She would no longer be his puppet. If Gi-ma was hunting for her voice, then she would return it. And escape. Forever. Aisha rose from the bed, feeling a new strength within her. Her body still ached from fatigue, but a fire of determination burned in her soul. She had to find a way to contact Gi-ma. She had to lure him into a trap. She had to give him her voice. And escape. But how? She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her gaze was firm and resolute. She was no longer the frightened girl running from her past. She had become a warrior, ready to fight for her future. She ran her hand through her hair, gathering it into a ponytail. She knew she needed help. But who could she trust? Maybe… Aisha exhaled and picked up her phone. It was time to take a risk.