The maddest thing I've ever read are fantasy books, written by authors who were known to be alcoholic. I used to tell myself how grateful we should be, that the world is clear and just. The sun will always rise in the East and set in the west. Raindrops will always fall to the ground and make the earth wet. But now I don't know what is right and wrong anymore.

"Rose... don't forget to wash the curtains, dear."

My mother's voice rang clear. It sounded like she's in the kitchen. I put down my diary and pen, starting to put down the curtains in my bedroom. I wash them all and brought it to the backyard to hang them up to dry. Between the wind and flying clothes, I could hear father whistling his favorite song. I peeked from between the hung curtains, and find him sitting on the porch. Whistling as he read a book on his lap. I smiled.

It's been 1 month. 30 days of madness.

People would say it's living with ghosts. But they're not ghosts. They're something else I couldn't understand. It ruined me, seeing these... illusions. They’re a fatal reminder that death graced this house. And perhaps the devil is after our sanity after all. I cried each time I heard their voice, at first. Matthew would look so lost and in pain. We live our days in horror, fearing the hours those voices would randomly grace our ears. Matthew tried putting crosses around the house to no avail. He took it all off the next day. It was a strange time.

After some time of confusion and desperation, I woke up with an easier heart. A calm, accepting mind. Matthew was still in daze… or fatigue, I couldn’t tell. But it's alright.

I gave up being scared and worried. It was sightings of my parents after all. The very thing I wished for every single night—To be able to see them again. They’re also voices. Though they do not respond to my words, it is so much more than the deafening silence their death has brought upon us. I wanted to embrace this madness. I wanted to live with it. Who knows perhaps it was not the devil, perhaps this is how miracle works to some of us. I began to believe that I am not mad.

"As long as you're happy," Matthew told me, after my explanation. As long as I'm happy.

They always look happy and beautiful. Real. They looked real. But we couldn't touch them or they'll disappear. Like a horrible dream, every single time. They're a fatamorgana—we need to keep our distance to keep them there. Be happy with the illusion we were granted with.

Matthew couldn’t handle it better than I do. Sometimes I see him sitting in the dining room, watching mother's back as she knit a beautiful blanket across him. Until she walked away. And disappeared. And Matthew would look like someone added another scar in him. Some days Matthew looked worse, but I am finally strong enough to be there for him. To hold him and ensure him that it's alright.

"This is better, Matt. They're here. We can see and hear them again."

He smiled at me, through his tired eyes. He my hair.

"Are you happy again, Rosie?" He asked.

And I smiled. Truly smiled.

"I am. Are you alright, brother?"

“Only if you are.” He smiled weakly.

I'll let this illusion fool me to my death. I'll let my life be a lie, I do not give a care. As long as my family is here again, closer to my heart. I knew it was his doing, the white eye— though I never told Matthew of it. Those eyes who'll probably drag me to the depths of misery just like the tales of the demons who fool humans and their greed. But it doesn't matter. I'll take misery at the end of my life if I can at least have this.

It all changed after two months.

Matthew fell sick. Badly so, after some days where he told me he wished to take a day off and just lay on the bed. He was feverish and pale, no medicine at home could help him. I begged him to let me go to town, get a doctor to come home and check him.

"Rose... you can't ride Magna, you know why.."

"Matt, I can do it. Magna has been calm when I approached her recently, I'll be fine!" Which were strange, truly. Magna has been acting hostile to Matthew instead, though Matthew never spoke of it to me.     

"No.. just—" he took a deep breath "stay here. I'll get better tomorrow, I promise."

"Matt, please... I'm scared. We're far from town, I don't want to run get help only when it's too late!"

"It won't be too late... Rosie please," he held my hand and squeezed it "I can't lose you. You're all I have left."

I gave up. It was painful to see him struggle against my hard head. So I let him nap and run away as soon as he did. I approached Magna with careful steps, but she was calm. I smiled at her before I ride her back, rushing to town. I've never crossed the valley alone but I remembered the way like it's the back of my own hand. I put Magna in the stable by the town's entrance. The keeper seemed surprised to see me alone. I pulled up the head cover from my coat to hide my face. I don't want the unneeded attention nor pity look. I walk fast through the town, gripping my dress to make sure I don't trip.

I gasped at a sudden strong grip on my wrist. My heart stopped. A robber was my first guess. The image of Matthew's face warning me that it's dangerous flashed through my mind. I turned my head to see a man with a bandage around his eyes. Bronze skin, dark hair, ragged clothes... A slave? A blind slave.

"Let me go, or I'll scream." I said. I looked around and a bread seller watched me in suspicion. I planned to scream at him for help the moment that blind man hurts me.

"You've got his smell." The man whispered.

"What?" I asked, pulling my wrist off the tight grip.

"You met him did you?"

"Let me go!" I yelled.

His grip got unbelievably tight, and I screamed.

"But no... He’s not with you..." He whispered closer to my face.

"Hey!! Let her go!" A man quickly pulled him off me. The blind man fell on his side, quickly scrambling to get his walking cane. The bread seller who sensed trouble came for me. He kicked the blind man and I looked away. I heard the sound of his cane walking away along with the bread seller's degrading yells.

"Lady, are you alright?" He asked. I nodded.

"Thank you." I mumbled.

"It's dangerous to travel alone, please quickly go home." He told me before he left. I ran to the doctor's clinic with a heaving breath. The doctor invited me to join his carriage while his servant rode Magna. What I found upon reaching home was however unexpected. And cold.

Matthew was standing on the doorway, pale and angry. A shotgun on his hand. I quickly left the carriage and ran to him.

"Matt! Matt, is everything alright?" My eyes switch from his face and to the shotgun back and forth. Matt was glaring at me. The corners of his eye red. He looked so sickly pale. And never angrier.

"Where were you?" He asked. Never in my life, I heard him use such a tone.

"I.. I'm sorry, I went to town to.. fetch the doc--"

"I told you not to, rose. I very clearly.. told you not to." His eyes bore a hole into mine, I felt my feet sinking to the ground.

"You did.. brother, please forgive me... I'm just... I'm trying to help.."

"Get inside."

"Matt—"

"Get inside!!" He screamed. His voice froze me. He stepped aside, weakly at that to let me inside the house. I ran inside before I knew it, to the second floor and into my room. I locked myself and suppressed my cries. Matthew never ever talked like that. He was like a different person. I peeked from the window, saw the doctor trying to talk to him. But Matthew raised his gun instead. I gasped.

"No.. no, Matthew no—"

And the doctor backed away. He politely bowed to my brother and get back inside the carriage. The servant who rode Magna tied Magna's rope to a tree in our yard before leaving with the carriage. Matthew walked back inside and I dropped down to my knees. What happened to him?

I could hear his steps coming up the stairs and I quickly ran to the side of my wardrobe, hugging my knees. He came closer. The creaks of the wooden floor making me jump. He was right in front of my room and I had to cover my mouth to stop my sobs. I thought he would never hurt me. But my faith is slipping away.

A click of the lock. And he walked away. I took deep breaths before peeking at my door. Did he lock me from the outside? I gathered my bravery and weakly walked at the door to find he did lock me from the outside. I walked away from my door, dropping my body to the bed. I curled in fear. And exhaustion.

Until I heard a hum. Mother's voice. Humming her favorite song so beautifully.

I wept upon my pillow until the sun sets and the moon found me crying.

“Dearest... My dearest.”

"What is happening to me?"

“Nothing, dear...”

"I feel sick. And... And angry, I don't understand.."

“Kiss me... You'll get better”