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Ima woke up gasping for air, a violent spasm racking his body as he strained against the chair. Moments before, he had felt a cutting cold dragging him through a strange, void-like space. When he finally opened his eyes, he was back in the chair, in the exact same situation.
"Well, I have... two options for you. You choose, and I promise I will fulfill my part completely." Barry leaned against the table, fiddling with the soldering iron. "Do you offer to sacrifice yourself for the girl you love? Or would you prefer she suffers for you? You have five seconds to decide."
The same question again? What is happening? Was it a hallucination caused by the shock...? No... Barry had begun counting again, completely ignoring Vanesa's screams.
The same message appeared when I first got these powers... The car, the strange sensations, and finding myself back on the sidewalk afterward... Of course... it wasn't a hallucination... How could I ignore something so obvious? I really did die that day! Following this realization, Ima felt a strange impulse—one that allowed him to see the room with a panoramic clarity. A powerful throb in his heart sent an immediate chill through him as he noticed a fourth and fifth figure in the room. One wore his school uniform; the other wore the very clothes he was wearing now. He might have thought his soul had left his body if not for the state of the figures: one had its head completely shattered, part of the left eye socket visible; the other had a bleeding hole in the center of its face, eyes bulging.
"Five!" Barry bellowed, snapping Ima out of his visions.
"Me! Take me! Leave her alone!"
Barry let out a nasal chuckle and once again prepared to press the soldering iron against Ima's leg. Instinctively, Ima recalled the previous torture and forced his mind to remember every detail he could.
I can't act out of ego... If I tell him his torture is amateur, it'll only end worse. Mentioning the tools on the table or what he's about to do might just enrage him and speed things up. I need...
"Let's begin," Barry said, lowering the iron toward his left leg.
The coldness of the tool made Ima's mind race.
What the detective said... Maybe if I mention the letter, I can buy time... Damn it... I don't know exactly how long it takes for the agents to arrive, he thought, grinding his teeth and clenching his fists against the burning friction of the ropes. I shouldn't be afraid... Can I rewind time? If I came back from death once, my only hope is that I can do it again... What if it fails? Will I die? What will happen to Vanesa?
Barry reached for the outlet to plug in the iron.
"I know about the letter!" Ima screamed. Barry froze in his tracks, his eyes wide. "I know about your father!"
"You know? How?" Barry's voice sounded naive, like that of a small child.
Perfect. Now I just have to keep him from suspecting I'm lying... Dammit.
"I..." he stammered, conjuring the image of the detective. "After I left the hospital, I remember them mentioning Teacher Alexandra's report, and when I wanted to know more... a... a detective! Yes! A detective spoke to me and mentioned reading the letter. He explained it to me... That's all. I understand your situation," he lied, breathing with anxiety.
Barry closed his eyes and let out a nasal laugh as he finally plugged the iron in.
"You're a liar, Ima. I never thought you'd dare to lie at a time like this..." Barry grit his teeth and, looking at Ima's perplexed face, stepped forward and landed a dry punch directly into his right eye. "Idiot!"
The dizzying effect, the lights flickering in his vision, and the sudden pain made Ima writhe in the chair. His strategy had gone down the drain instantly.
"I don't know how you know about the letter, but your lie fell apart the moment you mentioned that detective. No one but me knew about it." Barry went straight to Vanesa, once again forcing her to watch as the soldering iron began to destroy Ima's leg.
Ima tried to endure the pain again, but every time he tried to pull away from the iron, more nerve endings were scorched. He breathed clumsily, as if the air had vanished. A high-pitched ringing filled his ears.
"Look at the pathetic way he squirms," Barry said, grabbing Vanesa's hair to keep her eyes locked on the scene.
I need to get out of here... This is hell... Vanesa... The crazed, desperate look Ima shot Vanesa made her moan in sorrow.
"Barry, please, stop..." Vanesa begged, feeling the sting of her hair being pulled.
I need to endure... I need to measure the time... Pain... Pain... Pain...
II
"How did he manage to slip away from us, Rosewald?" the agents accompanying the detective asked.
"Didn't you look closely at the monitor?" he asked. Receiving no answer, he continued. "It was covered in aluminum." He picked up the device from the passenger seat and showed it. "It's a way to keep it from functioning correctly. A 'Faraday cage' to block the signals."
"Damn it, he bought himself time with this!" one of the agents shouted, scowling.
"We have to stay optimistic and consider that there might already be units heading to his house..." Rosewald gripped the steering wheel. "Even so, I fear it's been enough time for him to do something to Ima and the girl."
"If that's the case... what's the worst-case scenario?" the same agent asked.
"I'm afraid that in every one of my deductions, Ima is being tortured... I'm certain Barry has finally crossed a line he can't come back from. It's plausible he's subjecting Ima to extreme torture, abusing the girl, or simply killing them both..." He jerked the wheel with rage to take a sharp turn.
When they finally arrived, three patrol cars and a crowd of neighbors were already gathered, watching expectantly. The detective asked for a status report. No one had entered yet; they had to ensure the perimeter was clear of suspicious activity. They couldn't see inside the house either—it was pitch black, with heavy curtains blocking every window.
They reviewed the plan for the breach, trying to avoid a direct confrontation. Fortunately, nothing in the area suggested traps or sensors. When they finally burst in, the front door gave way to a dilapidated, eerie home that sent shivers down their spines. They cleared the rooms with flashlights and weapons drawn before finally daring to turn on the lights. They searched every room on the main floor and the second.
It wasn't until one of the agents discovered a hidden, soundproofed anteroom that they found Barry waiting for them, agitated by the noise of the breach. Shouts erupted between the agents and the boy, and a couple of shots were exchanged, forcing the team back. Barry threatened to end Vanesa and Ima if they didn't stop.
The scene Ima had previously perceived and heard with difficulty before feeling the bullet tear through his neck was repeating itself. Now, at least, he had bought some time and remained conscious through sheer effort. His face was mangled from the constant blows Barry had delivered out of offense at his lie; part of his leg was necrotic again from the iron, and the weakness from the torture was starting to dominate him once more.
"Vanesa..." Ima whispered, looking at her with a blood-soaked face. "I'm sorry... I couldn't protect you."
Vanesa could barely make out the words and struggled with her trembling, weak body to crawl toward him like a pathetic worm.
"I promise I'll get you out of here, Vanesa... Just... just..." Ima coughed blood over himself, alarming her.
"No... It's okay, Ima. Don't go to sleep, I'm right here with you. Whatever happened upstairs will buy us time to think..."
"Fine..." Ima forced himself to speak. He could feel his heartbeat thumping in his ears. "You need to... no, it's mandatory that you distract him or try to buy time..." Vanesa finally got close enough to him, and seeing his condition in detail, she couldn't help but weep at his side.
Before Vanesa could open her mouth, Barry's abrupt return startled her. He was striking his temples with his hands, still holding the gun, his eyes wide with rage. He approached his hostages and began threatening them at the exact moment the detective and the agents burst into the room. Some of the agents, shocked by Ima's state, let out stifled gasps.
The argument and exchange of words began anew. But this time, Vanesa dared to speak:
"Please, Barry! You have to stop this! Your father wouldn't have wanted this...!"
"What do you know about my father, you bitch?! You know nothing! He isn't even here and you dare name him!" Barry's rage shifted entirely toward Vanesa. The officers noticed Barry raising his hand and immediately fired, wounding him.
As he hit the floor with the gun still in hand, Barry didn't hesitate to fire at anyone, in every direction, erratically. A couple of bullets hit Vanesa and Ima directly; the rest struck the walls or whistled past the agents.
Vanesa was clutching her neck when Ima finally dared to look, having instinctively closed his eyes. Gouts of blood were escaping between her fingers, and her gaze was filled with anguish. Ima felt a sharp pain as his eyes widened; he let out a scream of pure agony.
The agents, who had scattered to avoid the fire, didn't hesitate and managed to take Barry down before he could even try to get back up. Everything had happened in a fraction of a second.
Moments later, the agents managed to untie Ima. The sight of Vanesa destroyed their hope. As they lifted her, the poor figure of a girl who had collapsed while clutching her throat left them in shock. Vanesa had died from a bullet to the neck. When they tried to move Ima, he couldn't stay upright, letting out groans of pain every time they touched him. The agent who grabbed him by the waist to help immediately noticed what had happened: one of the bullets had pierced directly through his lumbar vertebrae. A medical diagnosis wasn't even necessary—Ima was surely a complete paraplegic from the waist down.
The agents quickly contacted the medical services waiting nearby, as Ima was still bleeding out. None of the agents present imagined that a single moment of distraction would be enough for the boy to pathetically crawl toward the gun Barry had dropped.
This isn't fair... The only one who should have been hurt here was me, Ima thought, clutching the gun in his hand and crying, enduring the sting of the tears on his facial wounds. I'll save you no matter what... Forgive me. Looking at Vanesa, he pressed the gun to his right temple. The agents rushed toward him, but it was too late. Without questioning if the gun still had bullets, Ima pulled the trigger.