Jim leaned against the doorframe, pushing his hands into his jacket pockets. "I missed you guys," he said. "And, well, I heard things are a little... weird around here. Thought I should check in on my best buddy. Where is he, by the way?"
Kristina's smile faded for a moment, and there was an almost imperceptible shift in her expression—something that Jim couldn't quite read. "Steven?" she repeated, her voice a little quieter now. "He's not here. He's been... different lately."
Jim raised an eyebrow. "Different? How different?"
"Like, I don't know how to explain it," Kristina continued, stepping into the living room and placing her coffee down on the table. She motioned for Jim to follow, which he did. "It's not just his usual weirdness. Lately, he's been, well... distant. More than usual. I don't know, Jim. He's been acting strange—like, seriously strange. He doesn't talk the same, doesn't laugh the same, like he's holding something back." She shook her head. "I don't know what it is, but it's starting to worry me."
Jim stood there for a moment, taking in what she was saying. Steven had always been the kind of guy who lived in his own world, but this? This sounded different. "Have you tried talking to him about it?" Jim asked, concern creeping into his voice.
Kristina let out a breath, rubbing her eyes. "I've tried. He says he's fine, but I know better. And lately, he's been... disappearing. Not telling me where he goes. It's like he's trying to shut me…."
Kristina paused, her gaze turning toward the window, as if searching for answers outside. "It's like he's trying to shut me out," she murmured, her voice tinged with worry. "I don't know if he's dealing with something personal or if it's something... else."
Jim took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. He had known Steven for years, through thick and thin, and he'd never seen him this way. The silence in the room felt heavier now, as if the air itself had thickened with unspoken truths.
"So, what? You think he's keeping secrets?" Jim asked.
Kristina didn't answer right away. She leaned against the back of the couch, her arms crossed, as though trying to gather her thoughts. "I don't know. But something's off. He's been saying things lately... like... like he's not really in control of himself. Like there's this thing inside him, and it's taking over. I tried to tell him to get help, but he wouldn't listen."
Jim frowned. "Has he said anything specific? Anything that makes sense?"
Kristina nodded, her eyes distant. "Yeah, he mentioned feeling... consumed. Like he couldn't trust himself anymore. Like he wasn't even Steven anymore. It's like he was afraid of something, but he wouldn't say what."
Jim rubbed his chin, deep in thought. He hadn't seen Steven this disturbed before. In fact, Steven had always been the guy who would brush off any kind of emotional burden with a joke or a grin. But now... it was like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.
"Okay, so let me get this straight," Jim said, pacing back and forth in the living room. "You're telling me that Steven's acting strange, disappearing, and saying things about losing control? And you don't think it's just some... weird phase?"
Kristina shrugged. "I don't know what it is, Jim. But I'm scared. And I think you should talk to him. You're his best friend, right?"
Jim stopped in his tracks, looking at Kristina with a sense of determination in his eyes. "Yeah. I'm his best friend. And I'll get to the bottom of this."
He glanced around the room, trying to piece together the clues. It was like there was something—something dark—hovering over Steven, something he couldn't shake. It wasn't just a phase. Jim had seen it before, in people who were dealing with things they couldn't escape. But whatever it was, it wasn't normal. Not for Steven.
Jim turned back to Kristina, who looked at him with a mix of hope and fear. "I'll talk to him," he said firmly. "And if there's something going on, we'll figure it out."
Kristina gave a small, relieved smile. "Thanks, Jim. I just... I just want him to be okay."
Jim nodded, his eyes lingering on her face for a moment. There was something else there, too, something he couldn't quite place. The tension in the room had shifted slightly, and the familiarity of their friendship felt a little different now. He cleared his throat, pushing those thoughts aside.
"Don't worry. We'll figure this out. I'll find him."
Kristina gave a small nod, then stepped toward the door. "You'll find him," she repeated softly, almost to herself. "But be careful, Jim. Something about this... it's not just in his head. I can feel it."
Jim turned back to her, his expression softening. "I know. I'll be careful. I promise."
With that, Jim turned to leave, stepping out of the door and into the bright, cool morning. The air felt a little fresher now, and the weight of Kristina's words hung heavy on him. Something was happening with Steven, something he couldn't quite understand. But Jim knew one thing: he was going to find out what it was. And no matter how dark or dangerous the truth was, he wasn't going to let his best friend face it alone.
***
The evening air had a chill to it, the kind that crept under your skin and settled deep in your bones. Steven Henderson had spent the day roaming around the city, eating street food and trying to keep his mind distracted. The sounds of the busy streets and the bright lights of the city did little to calm the storm inside him. No matter where he went, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong—something deep inside him, something he couldn't control.
By the time the sun had fully set, Steven made his way back to his apartment. He walked through the dimly lit streets, his movements slower than usual, as if the weight of his own body had grown heavier. His boots made soft thuds against the pavement, but his mind was a thousand miles away. The bike ride back had been mechanical; he barely noticed the way the wind howled around him or the city lights that blurred by in his peripheral vision. His thoughts were consumed by the curse, by the feeling that he was slipping into something he couldn't outrun.
As Steven pushed open the door to his apartment, he immediately noticed it. The pain. It was sharper, deeper than before. He could feel the heat radiating from his skin, a burning sensation that seemed to spread further with each passing second. His reflection in the hallway mirror caught his eye.
His face was pale, drained of color, his once-sturdy features now gaunt and haggard. The burn scars—twisted, jagged, and angry—had begun to spread faster, as though the curse was consuming him, carving itself into his flesh. The skin on his lower body had started to blister and peel, exposing raw, scorched tissue beneath.
A chill ran down his spine, but it wasn't from the cold air. No, this was fear. Raw, visceral fear.
"What the hell is happening to me?" Steven whispered to himself, his voice barely audible. He reached up, touching his face gingerly, as if afraid that the burns would spread further if he moved too fast. He could feel the heat radiating from his skin, the power pulsing beneath it.
His stomach churned, and he quickly turned away from the mirror, trying to shake the image of his deteriorating body. He couldn't think about this now. He couldn't deal with it.
Suddenly, the sound of a motorcycle engine echoed through the hallway. Steven tensed, recognizing the sound immediately. It was Jim Ward, his best friend. The guy had been asking more questions lately, probing deeper into Steven's erratic behavior. But Steven wasn't in the mood to deal with him, not tonight.
Jim's voice was heard from outside the door, calling his name, but Steven didn't move. He stood there, his fists clenched, staring at the floor, trying to control the burning rage that bubbled inside him. His breath came in short, sharp bursts as the anger built up, faster than he could stop it.
When Jim knocked and called out again, Steven snapped. He opened the door with force, his eyes glowing with the faintest flicker of fire, his whole body radiating tension. Jim froze at the sight of him, his face filled with concern. "Steven, what's going on, man? You look—"
But Steven didn't let him finish. His voice was low, dangerous, as he hissed, "Just leave. Now."
Jim hesitated, the worry evident in his eyes. "What's going on with you, Steven? You're scaring me."
The intensity of Steven's glare was enough to make Jim take a step back. There was something terrifying in the air—a darkness that felt so heavy, so suffocating, that even Jim was afraid to push any further. He wanted to help, but he could see that Steven was spiraling, and there was no way to reach him in this state.
Without another word, Jim slowly turned and walked away, his heart heavy with the knowledge that his friend was losing control of himself. He didn't know how to help Steven, but he knew it wasn't something that could be solved tonight.
As the door slammed shut, Steven's body trembled. His hands, now burning with intensity, clenched into fists at his sides. His vision blurred for a moment, his body feeling like it was about to break apart. And then, just as quickly, the energy left him, draining completely, and he fell to his knees.
He collapsed onto the floor, his chest heaving as he fought to regain control. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and his body trembled from exhaustion. The curse was too much. He couldn't handle it. And he was beginning to fear that it might consume him entirely.
"Please," Steven whispered, barely audible. "Make it stop…"
But there was no answer. Only the burn of the curse, the fire that would never let him go.