Chapter Text
Grandma was here, in this house.
You had to scream. You had to warn her, tell her to run, to leave as fast as she could before she came upstairs and discovered the carnage-
But before you could so much as part your lips, Caleb instantly sensed your intent. With a movement of terrifying speed, he seized your jaw, crushing his fingers against the bone to silence you.
“Do or say anything,” he murmured darkly, “and you can be certain she’ll end up just like him. It will be your fault.”
“I doubt you're capable of that against Grandma…”
“Don’t test me. I have no empathy for that woman.”
It wasn’t a threat, but a promise.
The image of Gideon lying on the floor flashed through your mind. The thought of your grandmother's blood staining the house next made your stomach twist. You couldn’t let that happened. Terrified, you gave a reluctant nod beneath his grip.
Satisfied, he slowly let go and headed for the bedroom door. Before touching the handle, he glanced back at you, a final warning in his eyes.
"Stay here."
The sharp click of a lock echoed through the room. He'd locked you in.
You heard him make his way downstairs, his steps light, almost cheerful. You couldn't make out the words being exchanged, but you could easily guess what he was doing. Caleb was helping her put away the groceries, just like he always did.
What were you supposed to do?
If you screamed now, if you caused a scene, he wouldn’t hesitate to silence her for good. Her life depended on your silence alone.
You forced yourself to assess the room. It stood far higher than the one in your own room. If you jumped, you’d likely break far more than just a leg.
There wasn't a single electronic device that could allow you to call for help, nor any visible weapon you could use to defend yourself.
Then your gaze settled on a cardboard box resting slightly apart on his desk. Driven by curiosity, you decided to lift its lid.
Inside, you found proof of a morbid obsession that had undoubtedly lasted for years. There were hundreds of photographs of you, some taken while you were completely unaware. There were also old pairs of underwear you'd always assumed you'd lost.
There was even a used toothbrush... Yours.
Your hands began to tremble at the sight. Every object gave substance to your worst certainty. You couldn’t help blaming yourself for never realizing any of it all those years.
Seized by a wave of disgust, you abruptly shut the box, eager to erase the sight from your mind.
—
Downstairs, Caleb was playing the role of the perfect grandson. Without a moment's hesitation, he had rushed to help his "grandmother."
"Where's Y/N?" she asked, handing him a jar of tomato sauce to put away.
"She's not feeling very well. I think it's best to let her get some rest," he replied, lying with unsettling ease.
"Sick? I hope it's nothing serious," the old woman asked with concern.
Caleb gave a slight nod.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of her."
I'll take care of her.
Just as he always had.
It had been him, and him alone, who had looked after you all these years. Certainly not this woman, forever absent, who had entrusted him with the entire responsibility of raising his adoptive sister. The very woman who had only taken the two of you in to ease her own conscience.
As the old woman handed him yet another grocery item to put away, Caleb's hand suddenly froze. For a moment, he remained lost in thought, his heavy gaze fixed on the object he held between his hands.
"I love her."
Josephine did not stop what she was doing. She showed no surprise. They had known this truth for a long time. She had simply always condemned it through her silence.
Faced with her composure, Caleb remained puzzled. He didn't know how to interpret it.
"You're not going to react?"
The old woman finally paused. She turned to face him.
"And you truly believe she feels the same way, my boy? You're her brother, whether you like it or not," she insisted. "Her only family."
Caleb cast her a look filled with contempt.
"I'm no longer interested in pretending we're one happy little family. Do you still believe in that?"
She chose to ignore the provocation.
"Zayne is coming for dinner tomorrow," she continued in a voice that tried to remain firm. "I finally managed to reach him. Don't ruin this."
A muffled laugh escaped Caleb.
"You're a little too late for that."
This time, Josephine's composure cracked. A wave of dread suddenly washed over her. The atmosphere had changed. She could feel that something was terribly wrong.
"Explain yourself, my boy," she ordered, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her.
Caleb slowly set down the item he was still holding before taking a threatening step toward her. The mask of the perfect grandson had completely disappeared.
"You've never had anyone's name on your lips but Zayne's. What's your obsession with him?"
"I suggest you watch your tone, Caleb," she tried to say, desperately attempting to regain control.
Caleb took another step, closing the distance between them as she backed into the kitchen counter.
"Or what? You're going to call your perfect son-in-law?"
Josephine's blood ran cold. It was no longer mere arrogance. There was something macabre flickering in the young man's eyes.
The realization struck her with brutal force. The disgust he wore so openly. The detached way he had said, too late. And the deathly silence upstairs. Her instinct to protect you instantly overpowered her fear.
Without another word, Josephine shoved Caleb's shoulder aside and forced her way toward the staircase. She had to see. She had to know.
She rushed past Caleb, who made no attempt to stop her.
But before she could even reach the first step, a pair of hands closed around her throat. The violence of the gesture instantly robbed the old woman of her breath.
"You're leaving me no choice."
She clawed desperately at his arm, struggling to free herself from the crushing pressure around her neck.
"A-ah..."
As Caleb tightened his grip, her blows against his arm grew weaker and weaker, while her strength abandoned her at a terrifying pace. She tried to utter one last word, but only a muffled whimper escaped her purple lips.
Caleb watched her fade without so much as a blink. To him, it was nothing more than a setback, a mere formality before he could finally seal his perfect little world with you.
When her body finally went completely limp, he abruptly released his grip. Josephine collapsed heavily onto the first steps of the staircase.
—
The sound of something crashing made you flinch. You desperately hoped it wasn't the sound of your grandmother's final breath.
The bedroom door suddenly flew open, revealing Caleb's hurried figure.
You shot to your feet.
"Where's Grandma?"
Without a word, he hurried toward a large bag and began throwing clothes and a few necessities into it.
"We can't stay here," he said urgently.
You remained rooted to the spot.
"Where's Grandma...?" you repeated, your voice weaker this time.
"Believe me, it breaks my heart just as much as yours to have to leave our home behind..."
He looked at you with compassion, convinced you shared his nostalgia. As though you'd want to remain in a house that reeked of death.
You took a few hesitant steps into the hallway, desperately hoping to reassure yourself. But as your eyes lowered toward the foot of the staircase, all you saw was your grandmother's body lying on the floor.
Lost in your anguish, you clawed at yourself violently, desperately seeking physical pain to numb the emotional one.
Caleb immediately grabbed your wrists to restrain your movements, his face overcome with worry. You struggled weakly, repeating the word "no" over and over through your sobs.
"Pipsqueak..."
Caleb gently lowered his head until his forehead rested against yours.
"We have to leave."