After years of running from her past, Lissa returns to the one place she never wanted to see again—her childhood home. The town hasn’t changed, but Lissa has. Now a mother, a wife, and a survivor, she’s trying to rebuild a life while standing on the crumbling foundation of her trauma. Just a few months. Just until she finds her footing. But the house doesn’t let go so easily. It smells of mildew and memory. Dust covers more than furniture—it coats every secret Lissa tried to bury. As she navigates motherhood, old friendships, and a strained relationship with her sister, Lissa discovers more than ghosts in the attic. A photograph violently scribbled out. A letter from someone she hoped was lost to time. And a journal that brings her back to the girl she used to be. Her husband, Colt, tries to be her anchor. Her son, Lucas, is her reason to fight. But a single name—just one letter, T—is all it takes to fracture her resolve. The past isn’t dead. It’s waiting in the basement. In a letter tucked behind old receipts. In the quiet corners of her memory where no one else can go. As the days pass, the house begins to feel like a trap.Lissa must decide if she’s strong enough to dig through the wreckage of her past… or if some secrets are better left buried. Told with raw emotion and atmospheric suspense, House of Quiet Screams is a story of trauma, resilience, and the silent strength it takes to confront what once felt un faceable. For Lissa, surviving was never the end of the story—facing what comes after might be the beginning.
View MoreChapter Eighteen: The JournalIt was raining outside. Not heavy. Just enough to blur the windows and make the house feel like it was holding its breath. Lissa sat cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom, the old box open in front of her. Inside, the journal.She hadn’t touched it in years—not since the night she caught Colt reading it years ago. But today, something told her it was time. She opened the cover slowly. The pages were wrinkled at the corners. Some ink had faded. But the words were still there. Raw and jagged and small, like the girl who’d written them. Lissa began to read slowly as her hands shook.“He comes into my room when the moon is on the window.”“I don’t move, because if I do, he talks softly and says it’s a game.”“I hate games now.”Her handwriting changed as the pages went on. Bigger. Angrier. More urgent.“Why doesn’t anyone hear me?”“I think maybe I’m invisible.”“I want someone to know, but not if it means I disappear.”Lissa closed her eyes and took a br
Chapter Sixteen: Emily's SecretThe knock on Emily’s door wasn’t loud, but it was firm.Lissa stood on the porch, fists clenched at her sides. She hadn’t planned this. Not really. But something in her had snapped after Riley left, something that had been waiting to come loose. Emily answered quickly, her face breaking into a surprised smile. “Hey! I didn’t expect…”“I need to talk to you,” Lissa said, her voice low. “Can I come in?” Emily blinked, then stepped aside. “Of course.”Inside, the house smelled like vanilla candles and fresh laundry. Cozy. Safe. Nothing like the house Lissa had grown up in just across the fence. They sat in the living room, an untouched mug of tea cooling on the coffee table.“What’s going on?” Emily asked, concern lined her voice. Lissa didn’t waste time. “Do you remember anything strange from when we were kids?” she asked. “Back when Toby stayed over at our house?”Emily went still. Her face didn’t change much, but her hands twitched in her lap. “I…why ar
Lissa hadn’t expected company. She was halfway through folding laundry when the knock came two quick raps, then one softer. She opened the door to find her sister standing on the porch, coffee in one hand and phone in the other like always. “Hey,” Riley said, forcing a smile. Lissa blinked. “Everything okay?” “Yeah,” Riley said. “I just… wanted to check on you. And I was in town.” Lissa stepped aside to let her in. The visit felt awkward right away. Not cold. Just…careful. They sat at the kitchen table, sipping coffee that neither of them really tasted. “I saw your post about Lucas’s birthday,” Riley said. “He’s getting so big, I wish I could have made it but work, ya know.” She said with a small smile Lissa nodded. “He’s five now.” “That’s wild. Well Happy Birthday Nephew.” Riley said as she lifted to cheer and brought the glass to her mouth as she realized Lissa was not smiling. Not one bit. Silence stretched between them, familiar yet itchy. Then Riley blurted out loudly,
Chapter Thirteen: Happy Birthday Today was Lucas’s fifth birthday. She could hardly believe how fast time had flown by. One minute he was wrapped in hospital blankets with a tiny fist gripping her finger and now he was tearing through the living room in a blur of frosting and dinosaur balloons. “Momma! Look at my T-Rex! He ROOOAAARS!” Lissa smiled, snapping a picture with shaking hands. “He sure does, baby.” The living room looked… happy. Streamers hung above the windows. A small cake sat on the counter, its green icing just beginning to melt at the edges. Marley had helped with decorations, and Emily dropped off cupcakes from the bakery. It was good. It was normal. And that terrified her. Because five. He was five now. The same age she was when her own world stopped being safe. The number had haunted her all week. Every time she looked at him, at his tiny hands, his trusting eyes. She saw the version of herself she’d locked away. The one who sat frozen in the dark. The one no o
Chapter Eleven: Remodeling That Old HouseThe house groaned in protest as Lissa ripped another piece of wallpaper off the wall.She hadn’t planned on renovating—not really. But something about the faded floral print that lined the hallway made her skin itch. It smelled like dust and denial.So she yanked it down.One strip. Then another.Lucas sat nearby, stacking blocks and narrating an elaborate dinosaur rescue mission. Marley had offered to help, but Lissa had said no. She needed to do this part herself.The sander buzzed in her hand as she smoothed over an old dent in the trim. She didn’t remember how it got there. Maybe a fight. Maybe a fall. Maybe one of those nights her mother didn’t speak afterward.Lissa stared at the dent a moment longer, then ran the sander over it until it disappeared.Room by room, she was peeling back the layers. Not just of paint—but of memory.The attic? She’d already cleaned it out. The basement? Still locked for now. One step at a time.The kitchen
The clink of dishes, the hum of the fridge, the silence between them. Lissa stood at the kitchen sink, washing the same plate for the third time. She wasn’t really washing it was muscle memory. Something to do with her hands while her brain spiraled. Behind her, Colt rummaged in the junk drawer, muttering to himself. Then she heard it. A name. Soft. Unclear. But not unfamiliar. “What did you just say?” she asked, without turning. He didn’t answer right away. “Colt?” He cleared his throat. “Nothing. I'm just looking for the damn batteries.” “No. You said something.” He closed the drawer. “I said I need to call Terry back. From work.” Lissa’s shoulders stiffened. “Terry.” “Yeah. He—he’s been helping me with the shed project.” Funny. He’d never mentioned a Terry. Lissa knew every single person Colt worked with because he always brought his work stories home. She turned slowly. “You don’t have a Terry at work.” Colt blinked. “I do. You’ve just never met him.” “You said T.
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