The days that followed Grandma's departure after that night at dinner were unbearable. Something in Grant snapped—and whatever decency he once showed vanished. He became cruel, violent… unhinged.
At every chance he got, he would seize Amilia roughly, dragging her into the room without warning. His eyes burned with lust and something far darker. The door would slam shut behind them—and then the sounds would begin.
Her screams.
The pleading.
The muffled sobs.
Then silence… followed by his low, satisfied groans.
Each time I heard her cry out, my body would tremble beneath the covers. I'd clutch my blanket tightly, willing it all to stop, wishing I could disappear into the mattress. But I couldn't escape the sounds. I couldn't escape him.
Grandma had been the only one who could keep Grant in check. Her presence alone forced him to restrain himself. But now she was gone, and everything had changed—just like it did when Mum was alive.
The memories clawed their way back.
Mum's screams… Dad's rages… Grandma wasn't there to protect her either, not that time. If she had been, maybe Dad wouldn't have gone that far. Maybe Mum wouldn't have died. Maybe I wouldn't have done what I did.
But I can't think about that now. The past is done. No amount of regret will undo it.
I started going to school late. Sometimes, I didn't go at all. Amilia was always too weak, too bruised to get me ready. I barely saw her anymore. Every morning, Jessica would wake me up, and I'd tiptoe toward Amilia's door, hoping to see her—just to know she was still breathing.
But I'd be met with Grant's cold, lifeless eyes instead.
That stare haunted me more than any nightmare. I'd turn and run back to my room, slamming the door and locking it behind me, heart pounding like a drum.
Somehow, even while awake, he managed to creep into my dreams.
It was a rainy Thursday afternoon when I got home from school. I dashed straight to my room to change, eager to see Amilia. I missed her warm hugs and gentle kisses—things I hadn't felt in days because of Grant.
I couldn't stop wondering what exactly happened behind those closed doors. What did Grant do to her? A few days ago, I had asked Jessica the same question. She just said, "It's what grown-ups do... I hope you never have to go through what Amilia is going through, dear." But what did she mean by that?
Then a chilling thought struck me. The last time I accidentally barged into their room, I noticed something strange that stuck out of Grant's legs - it was long like a whip . Did he use that on Amilia every time the door shut? But why?
Lost in these thoughts, a sharp scream pierced through the silence. It came from just outside my room. Maybe it's Amilia again... Grant has started, I thought.
Then the scream came again—louder, clearer—but it wasn't Amilia. It was Jessica's voice.
Panic seized me. I rushed out of my room, the scream echoing again, unmistakably Jessica's. I ran down the stairs, my feet pounding as the cries led me toward the kitchen.
When I got there, I froze.
Grant was on his knees, moving back and forth in a disturbing rhythm. The screams grew louder—then I saw Jessica, lying flat on the floor, tears streaming down her face as Grant's hands moved over her.
I staggered backward, heart pounding. Before I could process what I saw, I stumbled and knocked over a vase by the door. I prayed Grant hadn't heard.
"Hey," he called out, but I didn't look back. I ran as fast as I could back to my room and slammed the door shut.
Then I heard it—the voice with that same cruel laughter, echoing in my mind. It crawled into my bones, twisting inside me.
I collapsed onto the floor, kicking my legs up helplessly, screaming silently as the laughter surrounded me.
Maybe no matter where I go, I carry this darkness with me...