The mystery of the dark forest. Cycle «The fog». The first book

His father jumped to his feet, knocking over the chair, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Their mother remained seated, silent, trying to hold back tears. Her voice trembled, but she forced herself to sound calm.

“It’s late. Go to bed. You have to get up early tomorrow.”

Alex stood and took Jessica by the hand. She followed reluctantly. She wanted to turn back, hug her mother, hide her from this world. But she left. As soon as the children went upstairs, the woman began to cry — quietly, without a sound. For her children, she was ready for anything. Even if she didn’t always succeed.

The moment Alex entered his room, he buried his face in the pillow and fell asleep instantly. The day had drained him completely. Outside the window — it was already deep night. How long had they been sitting in the kitchen?

Jessie quietly sat down beside him. She stroked his back — either trying to calm him, or herself. Maybe both. Making sure he was asleep, she covered him with a blanket, whispered “good night,” and lay down in her own bed. Sleep wouldn’t come. Thoughts swirled in her head like annoying flies. Everything that had happened at the table hurt her. Why can’t adults be kinder — especially to their own children? Why does family, instead of being a support, cause pain?

She wanted peace. Not only in the house, but in the whole world…

In the morning, brother and sister woke up reluctantly — school again. They had breakfast, got dressed, and went outside. Just like yesterday, no one walked them out. You’d think they’d be used to it by now… but no.

Amy was already waiting for them near the house. This time, she wasn’t alone. Beside her stood a tall, beautiful girl — about five foot seven, with thick dark hair curling like waves on a clear day. Her eyes were deep and dark, but her smile was bright, like the morning sun.

“Hey! Hi, guys!” Amy waved cheerfully.

Jessie immediately ran up to her friend and, for the first time since they’d met, hugged her — now there was no fence between them.

“Hi, Amy! I’m so happy to see you! Is this your sister?” she asked, curiously studying the girl.

“Hey, cutie. I’m Cheryl, the older sister of this little troublemaker,” she nodded toward Amy. “And who are you?”

“Jessica. You can just call me Jessie,” the girl said with a smile, extending her hand.

Alex watched silently. His face remained blank. Inside — anger and irritation. He was still shaken by his father and didn’t want to get close to anyone. But yesterday, against his will, he’d had a good evening… and it wouldn’t leave him alone.

Taking a deep breath, he said shortly,

“Alex.”

“Nice to meet you, Alex. You’re Amy’s classmate, right?” Cheryl уточнила. Realizing she wouldn’t get a handshake from him, she didn’t insist.

“Yeah. Amy, Mark, and I are in the same class.”

“By any chance, have you met Simon?” she asked in surprise. “Mark’s older brother?”

“I’ve heard of him. Amy told me,” Alex replied. “They’re friends?”

“More than friends,” Cheryl said softly, smiling.

The four of them headed toward the bus stop together. Alex didn’t understand why Cheryl was going with them, but he decided not to ask. On the bus, they talked about everything. Jessie managed to tell Cheryl half her life story. Cheryl listened with interest, then shared her own.

“I studied design. Wanted to become a stylist. Planned to apply in Toronto, but I stayed here — for Amy. Maybe later we’ll still leave together.”

“That’s why you and Amy make clothes!” Jessie said admiringly. “That’s so cool!”

“You already told her everything, didn’t you?” Cheryl laughed. “You can’t take your eyes off her for a second.”

Jessie giggled with her infectious laugh, and even Alex smiled. Cheryl looked at him — seeing his smile for the first time. Something in her gaze changed. He was looking at her too… differently. As if, for the first time, he wasn’t ashamed. He couldn’t look away. It felt as though he was drowning in her eyes.

The bus came to a stop. Everyone began getting off. Cheryl said goodbye:

“See you, guys. I’ve got to go.”

“Bye, Cheryl. Have a good day,” Alex said warmly.

She winked at him and disappeared. Amy and Jessie immediately exchanged glances and snickered mischievously.

Outside, Cheryl was already being waited for by Simon — a tall, muscular guy with short dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He smiled restrainedly, wrapped an arm around her waist, and the two of them walked off together, throwing a couple of parting words Mark’s way. Alex watched them go, thoughtfully observing their confident stride.

“Hey, guys,” Mark said quietly, stepping closer. His gaze flicked toward the direction where Simon and Cheryl had disappeared. He looked uneasy — as if afraid his brother might see him here, among the younger kids.

Alex, already in a better mood, walked up to him with a warm smile and a firm handshake.

“Hey. Good to see you.”

Amy greeted him too and gave him a tight hug. Without any extra words, the three of them headed toward the school.

The day passed calmly. Not a hint of anxiety, not a trace of trouble. After all, this was Canada — a safe country. And even though every corner of the world has its own “parasites,” in Mitalura, it seemed, there were none at all.

In class, Alex listened to everything except the teacher. His thoughts kept drifting back to Cheryl. Who was she really? Maybe she was only pretending to be kind and smiling, while inside she was sly and arrogant… like her boyfriend Simon? Alex didn’t know him personally, but Amy’s stories had been telling enough. But… maybe it was different? Maybe she was like Jessie — bright, genuine?

His thoughts were interrupted by a light nudge to the shoulder. It was Mark. As always, he was smiling, as if he knew exactly what Alex had been thinking. Throughout the day they whispered, joked, drew ridiculous characters in their notebooks, and came up with stories for them. Mark turned out to be surprisingly close, despite how little time they’d known each other.

After school, they gathered again by the gates — their small but already solid tradition. Everyone shared impressions, and as usual, Amy talked the most emotionally, while Jessie listened with admiration. Soon Cheryl approached them — alone. She looked tired, but still smiled, greeted everyone, and hugged her sister.

“Hi, Amily,” she said warmly.

“How many times have I asked you not to call me that?!” Amy flared up. “It sounds awful.”

“You’ll survive. I put up with you — now you put up with me,” Cheryl shot back.

“‘Amily,’” Jessica giggled. “That’s how I’m saving you in my phone.”

Everyone watched the sisters’ banter with amusement. Alex especially — he found Amy’s disgruntled expression funny. And after that, he liked Cheryl even more.

“Maybe we should walk home — screw the bus. What do you guys think?” Amy suggested.

“I think it’s a good idea. A walk wouldn’t hurt,” Mark agreed.

“No, thanks. I’m really tired, and we’ll probably take the bus,” Alex replied. “I hope you don’t mind?”

“You do you, but I’m going with them. I really want to take a walk. Besides, what are we going to do at home? You can’t really relax there,” Jessie said.

“No way. I’m not letting you go alone,” her brother objected.

“In that case, you’ll have to come with us, because I’m already seriously set on this walk. You wouldn’t leave me without supervision, would you?” she said with a slight smirk. “Besides, you’ll be walking with us — and with Cheryl,” Jessie added with a giggle, exchanging a glance with Amy.

“Come on. I’d be glad for your company,” Mark said to Alex with a bright smile, holding out his hand.

After a moment’s thought, Alex agreed. What would he do at home anyway — especially alone? Then he’d just worry if Jessie was late. And why not spend some pleasant time with friends? He took his friend’s hand in return, saying without words, Alright. I’m in.

The group of friends headed toward their homes. They cheerfully discussed classmates and teachers, inventing various nicknames for some of them. Cheryl understood perfectly who they were talking about — after all, she herself hadn’t studied under these teachers that long ago. Sometimes she joined the conversation, recalling what she used to call them back when she was still a student.

They were already approaching Mark’s house, and the group decided to make plans for their next meeting.

“Maybe we should get together again in a few days and take a walk downtown?” Amy suggested.

“Sounds like a good idea. I’ll invite my friend Paula then,” Cheryl said with a smile.

“Oh no, not that little demon,” Amy exclaimed indignantly. “I get scared just looking at her. Maybe we can do it without her?”

“Amy, don’t say that. Just because she’s goth doesn’t mean she’s a demon,” Cheryl muttered displeasedly. “Let’s be a bit more respectful toward my friend, okay?”

“Oh, what could be worse?” Amy started whining demonstratively.

“Living in the same house with you — that’s worse,” Cheryl shot back and lightly flicked her sister on the back of the head.

“Cheryl, tell us a little about Paula. I’d like to know more about her,” Jessie asked curiously.

Cheryl didn’t like talking about Paula. It was a painful subject — for both her and Paula herself. Cheryl never shared details of her friend’s life with anyone; personal matters weren’t meant for public discussion. Besides, Paula wouldn’t like it if her best friend told strangers about her private life, so Cheryl always tried to avoid the topic.

But why not tell you about her?

Paula was a lovely girl — like a little doll. Round-faced, dark-haired, blue-eyed. Her parents were good people — no, her mother was wonderful, but her father cheated on her and left. Karma acted quickly: his lover left him too, and he ended up completely alone. Paula’s stepfather took his place — a man who loved her like his own daughter, and she loved him as her real father.

Paula grew up happy, smart, and friendly. Her parents didn’t spoil her — and there was no need to — but she deeply appreciated everything she had.

It was an ordinary autumn day when Paula came home from school. She was in a bad mood, exhausted after a long day of studying. Her mother was sitting in the kitchen, sipping imported tea. Her stepfather was in his study, buried in paperwork. Seeing her daughter, her mother immediately called her to dinner. That day she had cooked some complicated dish from an old recipe book, and it smelled divine. The man also came down to the kitchen, kissed his daughter on the forehead, and sat at the table.

Dinner conversation was ordinary — about work, daily things. The man was hoping for a promotion and had been working more than usual.

After finishing her meal, Paula went to her room to do her homework. She loved reading, so before starting her tasks, she indulged herself with books. Why not? Paula jumped onto the bed and pulled out her favorite book at the time. She was completely absorbed in the story, imagining herself as the heroine.

A heavy knock echoed downstairs.

It was already late — who could that be? Her mother and stepfather argued angrily and slammed the door in the visitor’s face. Paula decided not to pay attention and kept reading.

Barely five minutes later, a bright light flashed through the window, followed by her mother’s inhuman scream.

Paula hid her book under the bed and headed for the door, but before she reached it, her mother burst into the room and hugged her tightly.

“Mom, what’s happening?” the girl asked in fear.

“Don’t be afraid. He won’t succeed. Dad will help us,” her mother said in a voice trembling with terror.

“Who is he?” Paula asked. But before her mother could answer, a man appeared in the doorway and quickly entered the room.

Her stepfather wrapped an arm around them and, covering their faces with a damp cloth, led them along the wall. The lower floor was burning; going down the stairs was unsafe. They hid in the parents’ bedroom. The man called emergency services and gave their address.

The wooden floors creaked and cracked terribly from the intense heat. The sound of fire approaching them was unmistakable. Paula’s mother couldn’t sit and wait — either for rescue or death. There was nowhere to go: jumping out the window wasn’t an option — Paula could be badly injured.

Picking up her daughter, she ran.

“Stop! Don’t you dare!” her husband shouted after her.

But without hesitation, he rushed after them.

The woman stopped abruptly at the staircase. Death and hellish heat surrounded her. Paula was crying, praying to God to help them, to spare her mother from the pain brought by the fire. The woman noticed a hole in the floor and moved toward it.

“I’ll carefully lower you down, and then we’ll follow, okay?” her mother said soothingly.

The girl nodded and took her mother’s hands. She was gently lowered to the floor below. Once down, Paula waved to show she was fine. Her father came over and lowered his wife as well. He was about to climb down himself when he twisted his ankle and was forced to stay upstairs.

“Go! Leave!” the man shouted. His voice shook with pain and tears.

The fire was closing in on both him and them. The woman couldn’t leave him behind — but she couldn’t abandon her daughter either. Thick black smoke filled the room. In the end, they turned and headed for the exit. Paula’s mother covered her eyes and mouth — so she wouldn’t breathe in the smoke, or maybe so her heart-rending cries wouldn’t be heard.

The man lay there, watching his beloved women disappear. The most important thing was that they would live. Had they died, he wouldn’t have survived it anyway. The fire finally reached him and consumed his body. Heavy, inhuman screams echoed throughout the house. His body shook violently, his mind emptied — there was only pain. His suffering ended. He died in the embrace of the merciless fire.

As the women approached the exit, people in uniform were breaking down the door. Everything looked distorted, unreal. The woman could no longer walk — she dragged her feet, collapsing onto her daughter with almost her full weight. Having taken care of her child, she had forgotten about herself. She had inhaled too much smoke. She collapsed to the floor, pushing Paula away toward the door.

She could do nothing now. The only thing she managed to say, in a hoarse voice, was:

“Take care of yourself. I love you.”

The rescuers took the girl first and carried her outside. Paula screamed, reaching for her mother. She didn’t want to leave her. She didn’t want to lose her. Her only wish was to lie down beside her and die — so unbearable was the pain.

Paula sat on a stretcher, wrapped in a warm blanket, staring at the dying house in which she had lost her parents that very night. Lost everything she had. Firefighters and medics rushed around. Somewhere in the distance, police sirens wailed. Near a neighboring house stood a lonely silhouette, watching everything unfold — and after a while, it disappeared.

Now Paula is grown up. She lives on her own. Not as happily or comfortably as she could have — but she lives.

All her life she has been haunted by one question: Why did the fire happen, and from whom was her mother trying to protect her?

Hopefully, one day she will find the answers.

And could Cheryl tell all this to them? No. So she keeps silent. If Paula wants to tell it — she will.

“Paula is eighteen now. She lives alone. She has no parents — they died when she was little. She studied at our school, one grade below mine. That’s where we met. She’s a wonderful person,” Cheryl said softly, with warmth and compassion in her voice.

“Poor thing… I’m really sorry for her. I’m sure she’s amazing,” little Jessie said gently.

“Yeah, and you forgot to mention that she — » Amy started, but Cheryl cut her off.

“That she what? Not like you?” she replied with disdain.

Amy growled angrily but didn’t continue — she knew Cheryl was right. As always.

“Well, guys, it was nice walking with you. See you soon!” Mark said, hugging everyone before heading home.

The rest of the walk passed unnoticed. Time flew by thanks to the engaging conversations. As they approached their houses, they said their goodbyes in advance. Near the Williams’ home, they finally stopped. Cheryl thanked them for the walk and said she was glad to have made new acquaintances. She wished them good night, hugged Jessie, then Alex — and lightly kissed him on the cheek.

“See you,” she said with a smile and headed home, holding her sister’s hand.

Jessie slowly turned toward her brother and began wiggling her eyebrows. Alex only rolled his eyes.

At home, it felt like no one was waiting for them — no one even noticed they were late. Why did they still worry about their parents’ coldness when they should have gotten used to it by now? Because parents aren’t supposed to be like that. The children didn’t feel care, warmth, or love from them. Did that mean they were indifferent? Thoughts like these always made them sad.

They went to bed earlier than usual and fell asleep almost immediately. The days that followed became routine: school, friends, home. On weekends, their parents still didn’t spend time with them. But Amy happily came over to stay the night with Jessie. Alex grumbled about having to tolerate their hangouts, but he had no choice.

The group met almost every day — it became their little tradition. A little over a month passed. Labor Day felt like yesterday — and now Halloween was already approaching. How quickly time flies.

During that period, they still hadn’t met Paula. But everything was ahead of them.

A new day was coming. And a new story…

CHAPTER THREE. FORGOTTEN PAST

Over the past month and a half, which flew by like a single moment, the group had grown noticeably closer — as if every day spent together became a small piece of something bigger and real.

Let’s start, perhaps, with Jessie and Amy.

The girls quickly became not just friends, but best friends — the kind who understand each other without words, who can laugh at things no one else would get, and who can be trusted with the most intimate secrets.

At school, they tried to meet as often as possible. Amy talked about boys, gossip, breakups, and crushes, seasoning everything with sharp, sarcastic jokes. Jessie, on the other hand, became fascinated with fashion and jewelry — and her interest grew with each passing day. Cheryl’s story inspired her so deeply that she plunged headfirst into this world, studying her reflection in the mirror with new attention, as if she were finally seeing herself for the first time.

During sleepovers, the girls turned the room into a mini beauty salon: they painted their lips, lined their eyes, glued glitter in place of eyeliner. The light from the night lamp reflected off it all, as if stars were flickering right at their lashes.

But they were still afraid to appear in public like that. Somewhere deep inside lived that familiar school insecurity — what if they judge us?

Amy often brought scissors, thread, and fabric scraps from home. Together they invented jewelry, sewed hair ties, hemmed sleeves, glued on rhinestones — everything looked cheap, naive, but childishly stylish. And there was something soulful in it, a charm all its own.

Meanwhile, Mark began spending less time with Amy.

It was as if something between them had cracked. They didn’t argue, but there was tension in the air — like a cool wind on a clear day: invisible, but undeniably there. Maybe they had a falling-out, or maybe… they had simply grown a little farther apart.

Out of boredom, Mark started spending more time with Alex, and Alex didn’t mind — Jessie now spent almost all her free time with her new friend.

Mark and Alex played ball near the house, sometimes just sat on the grass, listening to the wind rustle through the treetops. They shared memories, talked about the future, about fears, about dreams — awkwardly, but honestly. It was friendship — without pathos, but with warmth.

Cheryl had changed too.

She became more open, more talkative. Sometimes she met Jessie after school, asked about her day, listened with genuine enthusiasm to her new ideas, and her praise didn’t sound forced — it sounded like recognition.

She didn’t forget about Alex either — asking how things were at home, how Jessie and Amy were getting along.

She enjoyed spending time with them — and the feeling was mutual.

At the same time, Cheryl hadn’t abandoned her old life.

Paula and Simon were still very much part of it: parties, dancing, conversations until morning. She seemed to balance between two worlds — the loud, adult one, and the quiet, childishly genuine one.

“Kids? No thanks,” she would say with a curl of her lips, as if the word itself were a diagnosis.

And so they didn’t cross paths.

Until a certain moment.

Halloween crept closer, just as the holiday should — stealthily, in the orange glow of shop windows, in the rustle of costumes, in the cloying smell of caramel and candle smoke. Teenagers discussed in advance where and how they would spend the evening — the idea of going out together as a group came naturally.

Alex and Jessie stood near Amy’s house, glancing toward the porch.

Dusk had thickened, the air was growing cool. Somewhere in the distance the wind whined, and somewhere costumed children laughed. Everything around them seemed to freeze in anticipation of something — strange, magical, frightening.

About ten minutes later, the door opened and Amy and her sister stepped onto the porch.

They looked bright and festive: a spark of excitement in their eyes, smiles playing on their lips.

The group barely had time to exchange greetings when suddenly—

A loud scream from the other end of the street cut through the evening silence, making everyone flinch and turn around.

“Cheryl!”

A girl approached them slowly, with the grace of a predatory cat.

Tall, with striking features, curvy in moderation, but radiating confidence and style. Her hair was dyed black, pulled into a low ponytail, her bangs perfectly straight. She wore a fitted black tuxedo, and her nails were long, black, and glossy.

Everything in one color, from the crown of her head to her heels. And damn it — she didn’t just look good in it. She looked like she had been born for this image.

“Paula!” Cheryl exclaimed with a joyful smile and hurried toward her. “I’m so glad you came!”

They hugged tightly, while Paula was already sweeping her gaze over everyone present. There was no embarrassment or shyness in her eyes — only appraisal. It was as if she were measuring them from head to toe with an invisible ruler.

Then she theatrically rolled her eyes, snorted, and said with a smirk:

“Well, you didn’t say this was going to be a daycare… I would’ve at least bought a pack of diapers.”

The atmosphere hung in the air for a second, like a joke that didn’t quite land. But Jessie didn’t lose her composure.

She smirked and replied with that rare chill of confidence in her voice — the kind that hardly ever appears in teenagers, but when it does, it sticks hard:

“The daycare already took care of everything. Brought a couple of diapers along, baby.”

Paula looked at her again — but differently this time. A spark of interest flashed in her eyes — almost respect. The corners of her lips twitched.