Chapter 2 - Echoes Beneath the Floorboards
Sarah held her children tightly, feeling the frantic, fluttering rhythm of Lily's heartbeat against her own chest. The kitchen air grew dangerously still, charged with an unspoken hostility that made the very walls feel like they were closing in. Clara stood motionless by the granite island, her dark maroon cardigan casting a heavy shadow across the bright white plates of uneaten spaghetti. The red sauce seemed almost unnatural under the recessed ceiling lights, glowing like fresh paint over a stain.
Sarah slowly stood up, keeping Leo and Lily safely behind her. Her blue button-down shirt rustled as she faced her mother-in-law, her jaw clenched so tightly it ached.
"Mother," Sarah said, her voice dropping into a low, dangerous register that brooked no argument. "We discussed this rule. The children are allowed to express their preferences. You cannot force-feed them."
Clara let out a harsh, mocking laugh that lacked any warmth. Her gray hair seemed to bristle as she crossed her arms over her chest, leaning her weight onto one hip.
"Preferences?" Clara sneered, stepping closer until the physical distance between them vanished. "In this house, they eat what they are given, or they learn the price of defiance. You spoil them, Sarah. Just like you spoiled their father before he..."
Clara abruptly clamped her mouth shut, her eyes widening for a fraction of a second before she masked her expression with cold indifference.
Sarah’s breath hitched in her throat. The color drained entirely from her face, leaving her pale and shaking. The ghost of her late husband—Clara’s estranged son—always hung over this house like a dark cloud, but Clara rarely brought him up unless she wanted to inflict maximum psychological damage.
"What were you going to say about David?" Sarah demanded, stepping forward to close the gap. "What did you do to him in this kitchen, Clara?"
Leo clutched the hem of Sarah's jeans, his eyes darting anxiously between the two adults. Lily buried her face back into Sarah's side, whimpering softly.
"Ask the house," Clara whispered, her lips curling into a triumphant, sinister smirk. She reached down and tapped her fingernail sharply against the base of the kitchen island, right where the heavy granite met the antique oak floorboards. "Ask the floor what happened to the man who tried to disobey me."
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Before Sarah could process the cryptic threat, a low, metallic groan echoed from directly beneath their feet, sounding entirely like a heavy door unlatching in a tomb.
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