Annoying like a Curse

Berger raised an eyebrow. "A child? What are you talking about?"

Schäfer pulled a folder from his coat and opened it. Inside were photos, newspaper articles, and handwritten notes. "This is Lukas. Or rather, this will be Lukas. He's a supernatural being from my time. He'll try to get to this child. And when that happens, the world as you know it will end."

Berger picked up the folder skeptically and leafed through it. His expression hardened as he looked at the pictures—the destroyed buildings, the victims, the reports of strange incidents.

"And what do you expect from us?" he finally asked.

"I need your men. We have to secure the hospital where the child will be born. It won't be easy, but we can't waste any time."

Berger looked at him for a long time before finally nodding. "I don't know whether to believe you. But I won't ignore your warning. If you're right, I owe you my life. If not..." He left the sentence unfinished, turned around, and began giving instructions.

Within minutes, the police station was a flurry of activity. Officers were gearing up, vehicles were being prepared, and Schäfer could feel the tension growing in the air.

As the first teams left, Schäfer was left alone, his eyes fixed on the hospital in the distance. He knew this was just the beginning.

The hospital had become a fort. SWAT units were positioned everywhere, their weapons trained on potential entrances, the entire wing sealed off. Inside, there was an unnatural silence. You could hear the rain pelting against the windows outside, while the tension in the air was almost palpable.

Schäfer stood near the delivery room, his heart racing as he watched every shadow, his gun drawn. "All units, stay alert," he spoke into his radio. "He's here. I know it."

Dr. Aurora Stein sat a few meters away, her hands nervously clasped together. She had no idea how to react in this situation. The screams of the woman giving birth in the delivery room echoed through the halls. "This is insane," she murmured. "We're playing with forces we don't understand."

Suddenly, shadows moved through the windows, and the lights in the hospital began to flicker. The SWAT units' radios emitted nothing but static. Schäfer felt the air around him grow colder.

Then, without warning, it was over. A deafening crash shook the entire wing of the building, followed by an almost eerie silence. Schäfer turned and saw several SWAT units slump in the hallway. Their bodies fell motionless to the floor, as if someone had ripped their lives from them without giving them even a second to react.

"He's here..." whispered Schäfer, his gun even tighter in his hand.

He ran the last few meters to the delivery room, flung open the door—and froze. Two SWAT soldiers lay dead on the floor, their eyes wide open as if they had seen something incomprehensible.

In the middle of the room, right next to the newborn, stood Lukas. His gaze was cold, his posture almost casual. In one hand he held the baby, in the other a knife, the blade dangerously close to the child's tender throat.

"Good evening, Schäfer," said Lukas with a mocking smile. "Or should I say... good morning?"

Schäfer raised the gun and pointed it at Lukas. "Let the child go. Immediately."

Lukas laughed softly, his gaze sliding to Aurora, who stood paralyzed in the doorway. "Really, Schäfer? Do you think you're in charge here? Don't you see that everything that's happening here is just a game?"

"I won't let you hurt this child!" Schäfer's voice was firm, but his grip on the weapon trembled.

"Hurt him?" Lukas raised an eyebrow and pulled the knife back a little. "Oh, I have no intention of hurting him. Not yet. But you know what the really funny thing is?" He leaned forward slightly, his gaze boring into Schäfer's. "I've done this before. And I'll do it again. Because everything you see here is my creation. My will."

"You're sick," hissed Schäfer, taking a step forward.

"Not one more step," Lukas said quietly, and the air in the room suddenly seemed to become heavier. "Otherwise, this will end sooner than you can imagine."

Aurora, having regained her composure, took a step forward. "Why? Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice trembling, but she held his gaze.

Lukas smiled coldly. "Because it has to. Everything has its place, Dr. Stein. Even me." He lifted the baby a little higher. "This child is the beginning... and the end. It's mine."

Schäfer tensed his finger on the trigger, his gaze shifting between Lukas and the baby. "I won't let you get away with this!"

Lukas' expression became serious. "Oh, Schäfer... You have no choice."

Lukas's fingers tightened around the knife, and his eyes flashed with anger as he held the child in his hand. But Aurora remained calm, though the tension in the room was almost palpable. She took a step forward, her voice firm but not without a certain wistfulness.

"Yes, we do have a choice, Lukas," she said slowly. "I know you can't kill the child because in doing so, you'd be killing yourself."

Lukas's expression hardened. "What are you talking about?" His voice was cold, but with a hint of uncertainty.

Aurora looked deep into his eyes, as if she were peering directly into his soul. "You are more than just human, Lukas. You are a part of this child. Without it... there is no you. You know that, and it makes you weak."

The room seemed to stand still for a moment, the pressure in the air unbearable. Lukas stared at her, his teeth gritted, but the words struck him like an inexplicable pain.

"You can't kill this child, Lukas. You can't just destroy everything you are," she continued, undaunted by his anger. "Because if you did, you would erase yourself. And deep down, you know that."

Lukas blinked, his hand holding the knife slightly trembling. Anger boiled within him, but it was also a moment of uncertainty as he began to realize she was right. He was trapped, just like her.

Inspector Schäfer took a step closer, his weapon firmly in his hand. The anger and hatred in his eyes were unmistakable as he stared at the baby in Lukas's hands, the knife at its throat.

"You've always portrayed yourself as evil, Lukas," Schäfer said in a cool, almost cheerful voice. "But you've never understood what you really are. You're not who you think you are. You're a monster. A curse."

Lukas's eyes narrowed. "You know what you're saying, Schäfer? You've changed. You'd kill a baby just to stop me? Just to get your revenge?"

Schäfer grinned. "If it means you finally disappear, then yes. The child is the key. If it dies, you die too. You can't do anything else. You know it."

Lukas stared at him in silence for a moment. "You never understood what you were actually doing, did you? What you had to do to truly win. You wouldn't even hesitate to kill the child if you knew you were taking your own life in the process, right?"

At that moment, Lukas realized he had indeed reached a point. The hatred he had fueled had led Schäfer to this point. And he had no idea how much further the inspector would go.

"You would do anything to destroy me, even if it meant your own end, wouldn't you?" Lukas said it with a slight, almost pitying smile.

Schäfer didn't hesitate for a moment, he pulled the trigger.

But the very second he pulled the trigger, Dr. Aurora Stein jumped in front of the baby. She was faster than anyone had expected, and the shot missed, only skimming the ground.

Lukas reacted immediately. In an instant so quick that no one understood what was happening, he bent down, his eyes fixed on the floor, and when he looked up again—he was gone.

He had simply vanished. No one knew how he had left the room. No sound, no indication that he had moved. Only the empty silence that remained after his departure.

And back in the room stood only the two remaining figures: Dr. Aurora Stein, who had thrown herself in front of the child, and Inspector Schäfer, whose gaze was still fixed on the spot where Lukas had just been standing.

The rain had finally stopped, but the dawn light of early morning enveloped the world in a thick, ominous silence. The streets were empty, the storm's debris still lay on the sidewalks, and the ground seemed to groan under the weight of recent events. Dr. Aurora Stein was the first to leave, returning to the house that had once been her home, the building that held the memories of her family and her old life. The thought of returning there hadn't been easy. But now, with Lukas gone and the madness of the previous day dissipating in the air like a toxic fog, the only thing left for her to do was find answers.

The key turned in the lock, and she stepped inside, the cold of the house immediately gripping her skin. Everything was quiet. Too quiet. The familiar smell of wood, of cooking, and memories was gone. There was only the smell of dust and decay. She walked slowly through the living room, then into the hallway that had always led her to her parents' rooms. Everything seemed just as she had left it, but something was different. Something wasn't right.

"Mom? Dad?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

But when she opened the dining room door, she froze. Her parents lay motionless on the floor, their bodies as still as the image of a painting that was never meant to be. The air around them was heavy, filled with a palpable emptiness that pervaded them. The shock froze her for a moment, but then her reason began to shake her again.

"No... This can't be. This mustn't be."

Her hands trembled as she approached her mother's lifeless body. No blood. No wounds. It was as if their souls had simply left, without a sound, without a trace. Dr. Aurora Stein knelt down, tears streaming down her face, but before she could do anything, she heard a noise behind her.

It was the soft creak of a door opening.

***

Inspector Schäfer stood before the door of his own house, the place where he had grown up as a child. The rain had subsided, but the leaden sky reflected the gloomy state he too felt within. The thought of coming back here to seek the answers he had never received was agonizing. But like Aurora, there was no choice. They had to know what had happened.

He opened the door, and immediately the cold enveloped him. It was dark inside, darker than he remembered. He entered, the floor creaking beneath his heavy footsteps, and the feeling of familiarity was no longer present in this silence. An uneasy feeling prickled at the back of his neck as he walked through the rooms. The hallway was empty, the living room too. Nothing had changed—or had it?

"Mother? Father?" His voice echoed through the empty walls.

As he entered the living room, he couldn't believe it. Before him lay the dead bodies of his parents, still and motionless, as if they had never breathed. A shock shot through him. It was impossible that they could just lie here, so lifeless, so still.

"What happened here?" he murmured, the words like a silent command to himself.

He knelt beside them, touched their cool hands. No trace of violence. It was as if time had simply ceased to exist for them. The questions he asked himself piled up, but no answer seemed to come.

But then, at that same moment, the same vague feeling that gripped Aurora gripped him too. The darkness growing within him now became a physical weight. Something was wrong. And there was no escape. Only questions that would never be answered.

***

Both stood in their own homes, confronted with the remnants of their past. Their families were dead, the lives they had known shattered. But there was no reason for grief, no room for the pain. Something greater seemed to be waiting for them. They didn't have much time left.

And as they remained in their respective places, they felt the presence of something else. Something lurking deep within them—the curse, the Lukas that had haunted them all. They had to understand it, they had to know what to do before it was too late.

But at this point, there was no easy answer. Only the knowledge that their future was a dark one, and the only choice left to them was to face their past.

Thirteen years had passed.

The room was silent. The smell of fresh coffee mingled with the cool morning air wafting through the open window. Inspector Schäfer and Dr. Aurora Stein sat opposite each other, separated by a wooden table, but the distance between them was more than just physical. Her gaze wandered around the room, and although outwardly they led a normal life in this house they had built together, it was the shadow of their past that kept knocking at their door.

"Do you think Max notices something?" Dr. Aurora Stein broke the silence. Her gaze was distant as she asked the question they both kept asking themselves.

"He's still young, but he's smart," Schäfer replied, his voice calm, but the concern in his eyes unmistakable. "Maybe he notices more than we're letting on."

"It's... it feels like we're living in a bubble," she murmured, pulling her knees a little closer to her. "Everything we've done, the sessions, the forgetting—it's not really helping, is it?"

"We tried," said Schäfer, but even he knew that answer wasn't particularly reassuring. "But what else do we have? We have the life we ​​wanted, or at least what we thought was a new life. Max is healthy, we're together... that's all that matters."

"And what about him?" She leaned forward slightly, her voice trailing off as she continued. "What if he asks someday? What if he really wants to know who we were, what we were before we came here?"

Schäfer let the question hang in the air for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and stood up. "Maybe we should tell him someday. Someday, when he's old enough to understand."

"And what if he never understands? What if he thinks we've been hiding something from him?" Her voice was a whisper, laced with doubt and fear. "We didn't hide anything from him," Schäfer said in a firmer voice, as if trying to reassure himself. "We were just making a fresh start. Just like us."

Aurora nodded slowly. "But the shadow... the shadow from back then, it always remains. And I wonder if we can ever truly free ourselves from it."

The silence returned. Only the soft dripping of rain against the window interrupted the moment of reflection. But for a moment, amidst the questions and doubts, they at least felt safe in this room. But how long would it be before the truth caught up with them again?

Max stared at his parents as they told him this. His mother sat on the old, worn chair, her hands clenched on the table, as if weighing every word she was about to speak. His father stood at the window, his gaze fixed on the outside, as if he could escape the gaze of the world that had long since caught up with them.

"Max," his mother began, "we have to leave. And we have to do it soon." Her voice was quiet but determined, almost like a whisper cutting through the room. "We've been haunted by something. Something dark that never lets go. It won't stop, it never will."

Max's eyes widened, and he let out a mocking laugh. "You're joking, right? You're crazy. You just talk like this is all a horror movie." He shook his head, his brow furrowed. "How can you say that? How can you tell me we just have to run away like this?"

His mother sighed deeply and continued. "It's not easy, Max. We have to move. And soon. It's the only option."

"You're lying," he snarled, stamping his foot on the floor. "You're just talking nonsense. What kind of 'something' is haunting us? What have you been hiding from us?" He took a step back, as if that would allow him to escape something he didn't fully understand.

"You'll understand," murmured his father, still clinging to the window, "when the time comes."

Max snorted and headed for the door. "I've had enough of this stuff. You guys are crazy." He closed the door behind him and stormed into the garden without another glance.

"He'll never understand us," whispered his mother, meeting her husband's gaze.