Chapter 10: Fractured Years

The years kept slipping by in that distorted way only a ghost could experience. Seasons blurred outside the windows overlooking the lake, leaves turning gold and falling, snow blanketing the yard, then melting into spring again. Mark grew older in the house, his hair more silver than dark now, the lines on his face deeper from the weight he carried so calmly. He never left. This lake house remained his kingdom, the place where he raised Lily and buried his secrets. I remained trapped with them, witnessing every private moment the walls refused to hide from me.

Lily turned twenty. She had become a beautiful young woman with my eyes and Mark’s quiet intensity. She attended community college nearby, studying art, spending long hours sketching by the lake or in her room. Boyfriends came and went, but one stayed longer than the others. Tyler. Tall, athletic, with an easy laugh that made Lily light up in ways I had not seen since she was small. I watched their relationship deepen with a mixture of maternal worry and that sick, unwanted satisfaction that always left me hating myself more.

One warm summer evening when Mark was out for the night, Tyler snuck over. They started on the couch downstairs, the same one where Mark had once held me after catching me with Victor. Lily wore a thin sundress. Tyler’s hands slid under it quickly, cupping her full breasts, thumbs circling her nipples until they hardened. She moaned softly, arching into his touch. “I need you,” she whispered, her voice husky in a way that echoed my own past desperation.

They moved to her bedroom. I could not turn away. The house kept me there, forcing me to see it all. Tyler laid her back on the bed and pulled the dress over her head, exposing her smooth skin. He kissed down her body, lingering on her breasts, sucking one nipple into his mouth while his fingers dipped between her legs. Lily was already wet. He stroked her clit in slow circles, then slid two fingers inside her, pumping steadily as she gasped and gripped his hair. Her hips rocked against his hand, chasing the pleasure.

When he went down on her, tongue replacing his fingers, licking and sucking with enthusiasm, Lily cried out, thighs trembling around his head. She came hard, back arching, a rush of wetness coating his mouth. The sounds filled the room, wet and intimate, her moans turning into sharp cries. I felt that twisted echo of satisfaction ripple through my form, remembering how Victor used to make me come like that. It disgusted me. I hated Lily for seeking this fire, hated Tyler for giving it to her, but mostly hated myself for the dark thrill it stirred in my ghostly existence.

Tyler stripped and positioned himself between her legs. He pushed inside her slowly, inch by inch, groaning at how tight she felt. Lily wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper. They found a rhythm, his thrusts steady and deep at first, then faster, harder. The bed creaked under them. Skin slapped against skin. Lily’s breasts bounced with each movement, her nails digging into his back as she urged him on. “Fuck me harder,” she gasped, sounding so much like me it tore at whatever remained of my heart.

He flipped her over, taking her from behind, one hand reaching around to rub her clit while he drove into her. Lily pushed back, meeting every thrust, moaning loudly into the pillow. They came together, Tyler burying himself deep as he spilled inside her, Lily shuddering through her second orgasm. They collapsed in a sweaty tangle, breathing hard, whispering sweet nothings afterward.

I caused chaos in the aftermath. The lights in her room flickered wildly. A drawer in her dresser rattled open by itself. Tyler laughed it off as bad wiring, but Lily’s eyes darted around the room. “It’s nothing,” she said softly, almost like she was reassuring me. Later that night, alone, she whispered into the empty air, “Mommy, if you’re here… I miss you. But I’m okay.”

Her words broke me all over again. I tried to respond with a gentle breeze across her cheek. She smiled faintly, but the house’s hold on me tightened with my emotions. More objects shifted. A book fell from her shelf. The disturbances were getting stronger as Lily became more sexually active, as if my jealousy and protectiveness fueled the hauntings.

Mark noticed the changes too. As he aged into his late fifties, the women still visited occasionally, though less frequently. One evening with a woman named Elena, a curvaceous brunette in her forties, I watched from the shadows of the master bedroom. Mark had aged but his appetite remained. He took her roughly that night, bending her over the dresser. He entered her from behind, thrusting with controlled power, his hand fisting in her hair. Elena moaned loudly, pushing back, her heavy breasts swinging with each impact. “Yes, Mark, just like that,” she panted.

He reached around and rubbed her clit fast while pounding into her. She came first, walls clenching around him, crying out. Mark followed, groaning as he emptied himself inside her. The satisfaction hit me again, unwanted and vile, watching him still capable of that raw pleasure. I hated how my form tingled with phantom echoes. A mirror cracked across the room. Elena startled. Mark simply kissed her shoulder and told her the house was settling.

Crazy moments filled the years. When Lily was twenty-one and brought home a more dominant boyfriend, their sex was intense and loud. He tied her wrists to the headboard with a scarf, teasing her body for what felt like hours before fucking her senseless. I watched her come multiple times, body glistening with sweat, begging for release. The house responded violently. The power flickered throughout the entire home. Doors slammed upstairs. Mark, downstairs with his own date, paused mid-thrust with the woman on his lap and looked up at the ceiling with that calm, knowing expression.

Lily started sensing me more clearly. She left notes sometimes, hidden in drawers. “I know you’re watching, Mom. I’m sorry if this hurts you.” Reading them through ghostly eyes made the guilt unbearable. Yet I could not stop witnessing everything. Her thoughts, her pleasures, her growing independence all laid bare.

Mark grew quieter as he aged into his early sixties. His hair thinned, movements slower, but the calm mask never cracked. He still brought women home now and then, their encounters shorter but still detailed in my unwilling view. One older woman rode him slowly in the living room chair one afternoon while Lily was out. Her hips rolled deliberately, taking him deep, breasts pressed against his chest as she kissed him. Mark gripped her ass, guiding her until they both shuddered to climax. I caused the chair to creak and shift unnaturally. The woman laughed nervously. Mark’s eyes scanned the room for me.

Lily graduated college and started working part-time at a local gallery. She dated seriously again, a man named David this time. Their sex was passionate and frequent. I watched one night as he went down on her for a long time, tongue and fingers bringing her to multiple orgasms before she rode him reverse, grinding down hard, her ass bouncing as she took control. The details burned into me: the slick shine on his cock as it slid in and out, her moans, the way her body trembled when she came. The satisfaction mixed with revulsion made me stronger and weaker at the same time. A vase shattered in the hallway. David left shortly after, spooked.

Through it all, Lily grew into a young woman navigating love and desire in the same house where her mother had been murdered. Mark aged beside her, the perfect father on the surface, the secret keeper beneath. The basement remained undisturbed, my body resting there while my spirit suffered above.

The house seemed to feed on it all, growing more active. Whispers in the walls at night. Cold spots. Objects moving when emotions ran high. I wondered how much longer this could go before Lily or Mark finally broke the cycle. Or before the new owners arrived to inherit our curses.

For now, I remained the unseen mother, trapped in every intimate detail, every secret pleasure and pain, hating myself, hating them, and unable to look away.