After parting ways with Josephine, I sat alone in the park for a while longer, allowing the alcohol to wear off.
The crisp evening air was a welcome relief, and I found myself reflecting on how suffocating it would be to return home, to that place where anger and tension simmered just beneath the surface.
The sun set slowly, casting long shadows across the park. What had once been filled with the laughter and chatter of children had now fallen silent. Even the usual noise of playful kids had died down as their parents called them home.
The autumn breeze carried a chill, and I could feel the last remnants of my anger dissipating with it. I flicked the dust off my jacket and decided it was time to head home.
But as I stepped through the door, the house was plunged into darkness. There were no lights on.
I stopped for a moment, puzzled. Was the power out?
"Honey?"
"Finn?"
There was no response. The silence was thick and oppressive. Finn was nowhere to be found either.
From the direction of the storage room, I heard a sound—an odd, sickening crack, like the sound of bone being hacked into. My body tensed as I instinctively crouched low and moved toward the source of the noise.
The door to the room was ajar, with the faintest sliver of light leaking through.
As I approached, I peered through the crack. I saw Lily with her back to me. She seemed to be chopping something.
The room was too dark for me to make out much more, but I could see the vague silhouette of her movements.
Then, suddenly, a loud clatter broke the stillness.
Something small and soft brushed past my ankle, a round object, furred and cold.
My heart skipped a beat. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong.
I bent down instinctively and pulled out my phone to illuminate the space. The light flickered on, revealing the object—a head.
Finn's head.
My pulse spiked, and panic clawed at my throat. The realization hit me like a hammer: Lily had been chopping her brother, Finn, and the sound I heard was the sickening crack of bone.
As my eyes darted up, Lily turned to face me. Her expression was ghastly, her face as pale as death.
A twisted smile, as cold and empty as ever, played on her lips.
Her bloodless mouth moved, forming the words, "Honey?"
