We both stepped into the small house, me clutching tightly to the little bag my mother had given me, while Uncle Luke—Aunt Taylor's younger brother, or so I'd been told—carried my other bag inside.
I didn't trust him.
The thought came uninvited, sharp and quiet, like a whisper in my chest.
The house had two bedrooms. He took the larger one and told me I could have the smaller. Before I could even thank him, his tone turned cold.
> "Except if you're about to die, don't ever knock on my door,"
he said, his voice flat and serious.
"If there's nothing, don't come near. If I need you, I'll come to you myself. Understand?"
I swallowed hard and nodded.
"Yes," I whispered shakily, fear curling up inside me.
"Good," he muttered before walking away, shutting his door behind him.
Silence fell. The kind of silence that pressed against your skin.
After unpacking a few things, I found myself alone in the small, dimly lit room. My heart still raced from his words. Slowly, I turned the lock on my door.
It clicked—a small sound of safety in a world that suddenly felt too big and too strange for a ten-year-old girl.
After locking the door, I rushed straight to the bed and pulled the little briefcase onto my lap. My hands trembled as I flipped it open.
Inside—money.
Stacks of it.
I gasped, my eyes widening. I had never seen so much cash in my entire life. The briefcase was filled to the brim, neat bundles packed tightly together.
A small sound escaped my lips before I quickly covered my mouth with both hands. Don't let him hear.
Then, my mother's last words echoed in my head:
Keep it safe.
My heart pounded as I snapped the case shut. I slid off the bed, lifted the sheet, and shoved the briefcase underneath, hiding it deep out of sight.
I couldn't trust Uncle Luke.
I wouldn't tell him.
Not about the briefcase.
Not about the money.
Not about anything.
A week later, Uncle Luke insisted, as always, that we eat breakfast together.
It had become our quiet routine—same table, same food, same forced silence.
But that morning felt different.
Something in the air had changed. Uncle Luke's gaze lingered too long, heavy and unsettling. There was something dark behind his eyes—something that made my stomach twist in fear.
He didn't touch me. He didn't say anything wrong. But the way he looked at me… it made me feel small, trapped, and confused.
I didn't understand what that feeling was, only that it was wrong.
So, I tried to push it away—pretend everything was fine, pretend I wasn't scared.
After all, I was still just a little girl.