Stolen Kisses

Talia didn’t scream when her soul was stolen. That was the worst part, how quietly it all happened. And how ordinary the day had seemed.

“I’m sleeping over at Ethan’s tonight,” Talia chattered on as she fluffed out her pillows. “Don’t wait up for me.”

A tiny grunt came from the corner of the room, the little frame burrowing themselves further under the covers for the umpteenth time that day. A smile tugged at Talia’s lips. It was more response than she’d gotten from her roommate all week. Angelica Rose typically didn’t have much to say.

That didn’t mean she cared any less, though. Talia remembered the frantic messages her roommate would send out whenever she was out partying a little too long. Then the poorly concealed embarrassment when Talia would stumble home drunk.

“I was just wondering if I’d have the room to myself tonight, don’t get any ideas.” She’d mumble, but then make her way to the kitchenette to fix Talia a cup of sobering coffee anyway.

Her phone buzzed on the bedside table, and she rolled her eyes. Ethan had been pestering her for the past hour about their date, making her give live updates to make sure that she didn’t take  two hours to put her clothes on. It was the cutest quirk of her boyfriend, how closely he watched the time.

She grabbed her phone, ready to type opening the door to the bathroom now when she saw the name that popped up on her screen. She stilled for a moment, thumb wavering over the message.

Veronica:

Can we talk?

Talia’s brow furrowed. The last time she and her stepsister had a talk, they hadn’t spoken to each other for months afterward. Today being the first time either of them had broken the silence. It was just that she could be a little hard to reason with at times.

Veronica:

It’ll only take five minutes.

Meet me in my room when you’re ready.

Talia stared at the screen a moment longer, then locked her phone without responding. She wasn’t ready to talk to Veronica. Not yet. She wasn’t sure when she’d ever be ready.

The silence in the room shifted from peaceful and pressed onto her skin a little tighter. Out of the corner of her eye, Angelica shifted.

Talia turned slightly. “You awake?”

A pause. Then a murmur from the covers: “You should go.”

She blinked. “Huh?”

“Ethan’s waiting,” Angelica said, muffled but unmistakably clear. “You should go before it gets late.”

“Trying to kick me out of the room again?” She tried to joke, but there was something stuck at the back of her throat. Her roommate’s silence felt unsettling for the first time. Talia reached for her coat, trying to shake the cold creeping under her skin. “Alright, alright. I’m going.”

The hallway light flickered once as Talia stepped out, coat slung half-on, thumb hovering over Ethan’s name again.

She typed:

On my way

A creak echoed down the corridor. Talia turned her head. Veronica was standing there. Not by her door. Not walking toward her. Just there. Like she’d always been standing there, watching.

Talia startled, her phone nearly slipping out of her hands. “Jeez, you scared me.”

Veronica didn’t flinch. “You weren’t going to come.”

Talia blinked. “I... I was just...”

“Leaving,” Veronica finished for her, eyes scanning her like she could see beneath the skin. “I figured.”

Talia shifted her weight, feeling suddenly stupid for thinking she could dodge a five-minute chat. “Can we do this another time? Ethan’s waiting.”

Veronica tilted her head, slow. “I think this is more important than Ethan, Talia.” Her voice wasn’t sharp. It was soft. Like lullabies. Or confessions.

Talia took a small step back. “What is this even about?”

Veronica took one forward. The hallway suddenly felt narrower.

Veronica’s smile didn’t change. “My room. I’ll explain there.”

“I really shouldn’t...”

“It’ll only take five minutes,” Veronica continued, voice barely above a whisper now. She spoke like her words were part of a script. Like she wasn’t even listening to Talia, trying to get the next part of her lines right. “You can even keep your coat on.”

Talia’s mouth was dry. She glanced back down the hall, toward the stairwell. It looked different than it usually did. Old wood and carpet suddenly looked like Freedom. Warm streetlights. Dinner at one of the best places in town. Late-night conversations with her favorite person in the world.

Then she looked at Veronica again, who was already stepping aside to let her pass.

Just five minutes. Just a conversation.

Talia swallowed and took the first step.

The moment she crossed the threshold of Veronica’s room, something pressed against her chest. A heaviness, subtle but sudden. Like a curtain had been drawn between her and the rest of the world. And it was quiet. Not just apartment quiet. More like ‘the last few moments before somebody freaking dies’ quiet.

Veronica didn’t offer her a seat. Didn’t speak at all, just plonked herself down on her sofa and gave Talia the most expectant look. Like she was the one who had invited herself over. Talia lingered by the door, her hand brushing the knob for a second too long. If she ran now, she’d make it to Ethan just in time for his usual speech on date-night tardiness.

But instead, she stepped inside and nudged the door from behind her. The apartment was... off. Not messy. Not even dirty. Just sterile. Like no one really lived here. There were no photos. None on the walls, none on the side tables. Just empty frames. A single clock ticked quietly on the wall, but when Talia glanced at it, the second hand was moving backward.

She blinked. Looked again.

Now the clock was gone.

Veronica cleared her throat before she could think about it. She turned her attention to the small tea set on the table. Two cups. Already poured. Steam curling lazily upward.

“I didn’t know you were expecting me,” Talia said slowly. It felt very much like reasoning with a hungry lion while covered in blood.

“I wasn’t,” Veronica replied, settling into her seat. “But I hoped.” Talia didn’t sit.

“What is this?” she asked, voice sharp now, finally letting herself frown. “Why now? We haven’t spoken in months, and you show up acting like... like-”

“Like something’s wrong?” Veronica said gently.

Talia didn’t respond.

“Tell me,” her stepsister continued. “Do you ever feel like you’re watching yourself from outside your body?”

“What?”

“Like you’re in a dream you forgot waking up from. Like your heart is beating too slow. Or too fast. Like something’s... missing.”

Talia stared at her. The room suddenly felt colder. The steam from the tea barely moved. “I don’t feel like that,” she said. “I’m just tired.” She didn’t know why she felt like that all of a sudden. But then again, there was always something about being in Veronica’s presence that seemed to suck the life out of you.

Veronica nodded, like she expected that. “Drink something,” she said, gesturing toward the untouched cup. “You look pale.” Talia eyed it. “What is it?”

“Chamomile. Honey. Lavender.”

Talia didn’t move. “I’m good, thanks.”

Veronica’s smile didn’t fade. “You always hated chamomile. But you’ll like this one.” She didn’t ask again. She just sat there, waiting. Watching.

And Talia... wasn’t sure why she felt rude not drinking. Like declining it would break some invisible rule she hadn’t agreed to. Her hand moved before she fully realized.

She lifted the cup halfway. Then paused.

“You’ll feel better after,” Veronica chimed softly.

The tea was bitter. Not unpleasant, but sharp enough to make her wince. Talia barely had time to put the cup down before the world lurched sideways. She reached for the table.

And missed.

Everything slowed. Her limbs felt like they were being anchored down by ball and chain. Everything around her felt colder. More distant.

Veronica’s voice echoed from somewhere far away, soft and muffled, like she was underwater. “Don’t fight it.”

Talia’s vision blurred. The room dimmed at the edges. And then...

Black.

When she woke, it wasn’t sudden. It was drifting. Like surfacing through murky water. The lights were dim. Dimmer than before. She couldn’t move, the only feeling in her body being the piercing headache at the back of her skull.

She grunted once as cold metal pressed to her forehead. A low hum filled the room. It sounded like something’s poor imitation at sounding human. Her vision stilled. Veronica was standing over her. Murmuring something in a language that made Talia’s skin crawl just by hearing it. Hands moving precisely. Ritualistically. Like she’d done this before.

A sharp, blinding spike began to radiate from her chest and hand at the same time. A scream began to cut through the air, one she was unsure whether it belonged to herself. She sniffled, curling her body over to the side to cover her chest. It felt like every single cell in her body had been set on fire individually.

Veronica’s hand was wrapped around hers, yanking at the silver ring on her index finger, one Talia had worn forever. Cheap, meaningless, or enough meaning for Talia to wear it every day. It somehow became priceless in this very moment.

But it wouldn’t budge.

Veronica’s face twisted, not in frustration, but curiosity. Like a scientist witnessing an experiment go otherwise than they’d thought. “Well, that’s annoying,” she murmured.

The pain surged again as she tried to pull harder. Talia gasped, finally finding her voice.

“Stop! What are-” Veronica’s eyes met hers, cold and unflinching.

“Holding on, are we?” she said calmly. “I should’ve known you’d be a stubborn thing.” Talia whimpered as the burning intensified in her arm. It felt like her stepsister was trying to carve the nerves out from under her skin. Veronica released her hand. The burning ceased. “Fine,” she said, wiping her fingers on her skirt like they’d been dirtied.

“Keep a piece.”

She stepped back, the hum softening into silence. “But it won’t save you.”

She tried to sit up. Her body didn’t cooperate. She felt like she was sinking into the floor. The room wasn’t right. The walls pressed in, too close. Too small. Her breath felt too shallow, like the air was thicker than it should be. Talia tried to move her fingers. The pain was still there, but it was dull. Muted. Nothing felt alive anymore. She sucked in a breath, heart fluttering in her chest.

The space around her felt empty. Her mouth was dry, and she tasted something strange, metallic. It made her stomach roll. She flexed her fingers. The ring felt tighter than usual. It felt wrong. Talia wanted to claw it off but had a feeling it wouldn’t budge.

“What did you do? What did you do to me, you...you monster...” she croaked. She tried to move, but everything was still too heavy. Too slow.

Veronica’s voice cut through the fog. Soft, slow, deliberate. “You’ll be fine.”

The words barely registered. Something was missing. But she couldn’t name it. The feeling clawed at her chest, but she couldn’t figure out why.

She glanced down at her hands again, almost not recognizing them. Almost like they weren’t hers anymore. “Veronica,” she drawled, her throat tight, breath shallow. “What did you...”

Veronica was watching her, standing near the door, her face calm. She didn’t look surprised.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said with a soft smile. “You’ll get used to it. You’ll feel... whole again soon.”

Talia’s hand reached for the ring, trembling. She tugged. But pain shot through her entire arm. She gasped, pulling away instinctively. The ring hadn’t moved.

Veronica’s smile deepened, just a hint. “You can’t pull it off, you know. Not yet.”

Talia blinked, her mind still hazy, trying to piece together what was happening, what had just happened, what had been taken. The weight of the air pressed down harder on her. The edges of her vision started to blur again.

Veronica’s laugh continued to echo around the apartment even after she slammed the door shut.

***

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