I step into the house, and a shiver runs through me. I hadn't realized how terrifying it would be, returning here.
This place that once held warmth and noise now feels hollow, as if even the walls were holding their breath, waiting for something… or mourning something already lost.
I stop at the entrance, frozen by the memory that hits me like a blow to the chest.
That spot.
That dreadful, empty spot—
right where I found her.
My legs tremble. I see it again. Her lifeless body sprawled on the cold floor. The stillness in her limbs, the way the light refused to touch her.
That moment loops endlessly in my mind, sharp and cruel, a nightmare I can't seem to wake up from.
Mrs. May had gone home for the weekend. I had forgotten in my panic. Or maybe I was too scared to remember.
I force myself forward, one shaky breath at a time. My hand brushes the wall for balance. I walk past the hallway, each step echoing loudly in the silence. I stop outside her room.
Mom's room.
