Haunting Secrets

"Run Sierra, run as fastest as you can!"

Her white chemise was soaked in her own blood, flowing from where the skin had been peeled right off her cheek. Bruises bloomed all over her body, marks left by the brutal beating of the man she adored. She fled down the endless corridor, him close behind—knife in one fist, and the flayed skin of her face dangling from his other hand.

“Please, stop! Just stop—please don’t do this!” Sierra begged.

“I will never allow you to return to him! I’ll peel the skin right off your whole face so no one else can want you… so you’ll have no one left but me to love you!”

A girl hid in the wardrobe, silently watching her mother being slowly killed. The dim inside the wardrobe intensified the haunting scene. She covered her mouth with her hands to suppress any loud sobs, her entire body trembling with fear. Despite her strong desire to help, she was uncertain why she felt trapped inside.

All at once, the wardrobe burst open, revealing a man’s face. The child cried out in fright, staring at the firearm gripped in his hand. He stretched out an open palm, gesturing for the girl to step outside.

"Come here, valle," the man said, his voice was deep. "I'm here to help you."

Sierravalle had no choice but to trust him. She calmed and cautiously reached out her hand to a man who claimed he would help her. Before their hands could even touch, someone suddenly stabbed him in the head. Sierravalle screamed in terror as she saw the man lying lifeless on the floor, blood flowing from his head, with his eyes wide open, staring at her.

In the dark room, Sierravalle suddenly awake from her nightmare. Her whole body trembled, and her breathing came in fast, ragged gasps. She cried out in fright when she could see nothing around her. She feared the dark for her shadowed past haunted her every night, reminding her of events she could never forget.

But she wondered why the two men in her dream were blurry, but her mother's face was clear.

The servants and her guardians were startled by their senyorita’s cry. They hurried inside her chamber, holding their lanterns, for the whole mansion had gone dark amid the pouring rain. One poured water from the jug into the glass beside her bed and offered it to her. Sierravalle’s hands were shaking so hard she could barely hold it as she drank.

“We’re sorry, Senyorita—the power went out because of the heavy rain. And they haven’t been able to start the generator yet. It seems to be broken.”

Sierravalle’s eyes blazed with rage. She hurled the glass she was holding against the bedroom wall. “Leave! All of you, get out! Leave now!”

None of the servants moved to obey her. They stood their ground along the walls, their lanterns still held high. Sierravalle settled back beneath her covers, and even when she drifted off once more, the servants and her guardians stayed right where they were. They would not leave her room until the power came back on—or until dawn broke.

Clouds hung heavy the morning Sierravalle stirred awake. Fog curled into her chamber from the open window—common enough, since her room occupied the very top floor. She climbed out of bed, and rather than summoning a maid, she went to open the window on her own.

Her brow furrowed as she looked down. Standing in the middle of the garden, a man shrouded in all black, his face obscured by something dark, caught her eye.

Sierravalle’s skin prickled at the sight before her. She could feel the danger radiating from this man.

“Senyorita, there is a gift for you!” the servant announced cheerfully. “I’m sure it’s from one of your admirers!”

Sierravalle glanced over at the door as the maid walked in. Her eyes darted from the black box in the servant’s arms back to the garden, only to crease her forehead in confusion: the man had vanished.

“Is there a problem, Senyorita?” the servant asked, looking concerned. “Who were you searching for?”

“Nothing,” Sierravalle replied, her voice hesitant.

“Would you like me to open this gift for you, Senyorita?” the guardian asked.

Sierravalle looked back at him. Without a word, she took the box from his hands and opened it. Inside lay a single red rose and a letter. She picked up the note, and her heart hammered in terror as she read what was written on the scrap of paper.

“‘Happy twenty-seventh birthday, my Sierra!”

“Where did you get this?” Sierravalle asked the servant, her eyes still fixed on the note. He did not answer, only looked back at her. “Answer me! Where did you get this? Who gave it to you?”

The servant gaped, unnerved by the sharp edge in the Senyorita’s voice. “It came from a guard, Senyorita—he gave it to one of the servants.”

She thought of the man in the garden. Was it possible he was the one who left this gift?

Sierravalle brushed past him and sprinted out of the chamber. He chased after her immediately, and the rest of the staff standing nearby joined the pursuit.

Wearing a white nightgown, her long black hair whipping in the wind, Sierravalle descended the color gold mansion staircase, her bare feet barely touching the steps. She didn't care who watched, who followed. All that mattered was finding the mysterious man she had seen in the garden.

“Senyorita, stop running you’ll trip!” one called out.

“You have no shoes on! Dear God! You’ll cut yourself, Senyorita!” the other yelled. “Doñ will never spare us!”

Sierravalle ignored her guardians and servants. She headed straight for the garden and scanned her surroundings, but could not find what she was looking for. All she saw were the red roses blooming within the grounds.

She tried to convince herself that what she had seen was not real that it must have been just her imagination, or the result of too little sleep. Yet no matter how hard she tried, she could not shake the feeling that it was true.