THE HOUSE OF SECRETS

My mom told me not to visit for three months because of *“renovations.”*

It was weird, sure, but I didn’t think much of it. We were close, but she valued her space, so I respected it.

Then her phone calls started changing. **They got shorter.** **Colder.** She always sounded distracted, like she wanted to get off the phone as soon as possible.

Something felt **off.**

So, I decided to check on her—**unannounced.**

### **THE EMPTY HOUSE**

When I arrived, **the house looked normal from the outside.** No construction trucks, no equipment—just the same white house I grew up in.

But then I noticed something odd.

Mom’s **garden was overgrown.**

She took pride in her flowers, always keeping them trimmed and fresh. Seeing them **wild and neglected** made my stomach twist.

I knocked. No answer.

I tried calling. Straight to voicemail.

I pulled out the spare key and stepped inside.

### **NO RENOVATIONS. JUST… EMPTINESS.**

I expected a mess. **Dust, plastic sheets, workers’ tools—something.**

Instead, the house was **clean. Too clean.**

But **empty.**

**Her furniture was still there, but the warmth was gone.** No cozy blanket on the couch. No books stacked on the coffee table. **No sign that anyone had truly *lived* here in months.**

I rushed upstairs, my heartbeat hammering.

And then I saw her.

### **THE WOMAN IN THE BEDROOM**

She was **sitting on her bed, staring at the wall.**

Her clothes were wrinkled. Her hair, unbrushed. **She didn’t even flinch when I walked in.**

My heart stopped.

**”Mom?”** My voice cracked.

She turned slowly, blinking like she had forgotten how to react.

And then she whispered, **”You weren’t supposed to come.”**

### **THE CHILLING TRUTH**

I sat next to her, gripping her hands. They were ice-cold.

**”What’s going on? What renovations? Why are you acting like this?”**

She inhaled sharply, as if deciding something.

Then she whispered, **”I didn’t want you to see him.”**

**”See who?”**

Her eyes flickered to the **closet.**

My breath hitched. **Someone was here.**

I stood up, my hands shaking.

And then—**a thump from inside the closet.**

I nearly ran. Every instinct screamed at me to leave.

But then I saw **a lock on the outside of the closet door.**

I turned to her, horrified. **”Mom… what did you do?”**

Her lip trembled. **”He wouldn’t leave. So I locked him in.”**

### **THE DOOR OPENS…**

I reached for the lock. **My heart pounded as I turned it.**

The door creaked open.

And inside…

A **man** sat hunched in the corner, his **eyes sunken, his face gaunt.**

But what made my blood run cold?

**He looked exactly like my father.**

The father who had died **five years ago.**