A Strange Girl in a Raincoat Held My Dead Wife's Photo and Called Her Mommy

The Ghost of the Past

Before Marcus could scream or run, a frantic voice sliced through the damp alleyway.

Lily! Get away from him!

A woman emerged from the deep shadows near a rusted fire escape, her hood pulled low. Marcus's breath hitched as she stepped into the dim light of the flickering streetlamp. When she pulled back her hood, Marcus felt the world tilt on its axis. Standing before him was Clara. She looked older, her face pale and etched with exhaustion, but it was undeniably his wife. The woman he had wept over for half a decade was standing right there, breathing and alive.

Clara?

Marcus choked out, tears instantly blinding his vision. He took a step forward, his arms reaching out instinctively.

Is it really you? How is this possible?

Clara didn't rush into his arms. Instead, her eyes flared with absolute panic. She grabbed the little girl, Lily, and pulled her behind her protective frame.

Marcus, you shouldn't be here,

she sobbed, her voice trembling with a mixture of love and terror.

You have to leave. If they find out you saw us, they will kill you.

Marcus's grief instantly hardened into desperate confusion.

Who will kill me? Clara, the police told me you drowned! I spent years mourning you! Who is this girl?

She is our daughter, Marcus,

Clara confessed, a tear slipping down her cheek.

I was pregnant when I was forced to disappear. I worked for a pharmaceutical syndicate that was developing illegal genetic therapies. When I tried to blow the whistle, they staged my death and locked me in a black-site facility. Lily was born there. The red glow in her eyes... it is a side effect of the experimental treatments they forced on us before we escaped last month. We have been running ever since.

Suddenly, the heavy slam of car doors echoed from the main street. Two men in dark suits stepped into the alleyway, their eyes locked onto Clara and the child.