Page 25 of Sinful Games

I still needed to pick up some eggs, sugar, and milk. I wanted to bakevatrushka—a small brioche filled with cream cheese—for my babushka. Maybe indulging in her favorite treat, something she used to bake for me all the time, would help ease her confusion.

A pang hit my heart as my thoughts shifted to her. In the past few days, her condition had worsened. She was more belligerent, claiming to see ghosts around her bed, sometimes calling me by my mother's name or screaming in fear whenever I got close.

There were moments when we had to resort to sedatives just to calm her down.

It's true what they say—when one thing falls apart, it’s like the universe decides to unravel the whole damn tapestry. Especially in my twisted little corner of existence.

I blew hot air onto my cold hands just as the bus pulled up. It was unusually empty for a Thursday afternoon.

Just before I boarded, a weird sensation crawled up my spine, and the hairs on my arms stood on end. It felt like someone was watching me. I turned around, clutching my small vintage Chanel bag to my chest, and scanned the surroundings.

The streets were empty, except for three students strolling toward their car.

I hurried onto the bus and quickly took a seat, my eyes glued to the road.

All the madness around me must be getting to your head, Caia.

It reminded me of a few years ago when Lily and I watched "Gothika."

The plot followed a psychologist played by Halle Berry, in a women’s prison, haunted by a ghost that carved words into her skin, bleeding to reveal the horrors of the prison. The ghost, a girl raped and killed by a prison guard, was trying to expose the atrocities and help the other female inmates.

The movie wassoterrifying that Lily and I couldn't sleep alone for a week.

I ended up spending that week in her tiny bed, holding her close with her arms wrapped around mine.

The movie left us both so paranoid; we avoided walking alone after dark, kept our doors locked, and steered clear of strangers.

One day, I had this gut feeling that a man was following me down the street.

I panicked and started running, and to my horror, he chased after me.

In my terrified state, I sprinted even faster, only to end up face-first on the pavement. The young man caught up, apologized profusely, helped me up, and handed me my camera, pointing out that I’d left it behind in the café I had just been in.

I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.

Just thinking about that memory makes me cringe so hard.

We reached my stop, and I got off the bus, heading to the small convenience store just a street away from work.

The street was covered with a fresh layer of snow, something I’ve always loved—the pristine whiteness blanketing the ground. Snow has this beautiful way of bringing people together, whether it’s indoors with a cozy hot cocoa or outdoors, uniting them in playful snow activities.

It’s simply magical to me.

A smile touched my lips as I thought about Mama and me building snowmen together—those were the good times.

I miss my mama.

As I wandered through the snowy street and into the store, I debated which sugar brand to choose. I tried to remember if the recipe called for powdered sugar, refined sugar, or brown sugar.

Why are there so many different kinds of sugar, anyway?

Just as I reached for a blue and pink package that promised to transport you to heaven, that unsettling feeling from earlier returned.

"My tongue can also take you to heaven, baby."

I froze, my hand hanging mid-air.

"And it’ll be free sixty-nine."

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