Chapter 3 - The Confession of the Past
The heavy footsteps stopped just a few feet away from where Iris stood frozen in the dim light. Martha’s silhouette loomed large at the bottom of the basement stairs, her breathing ragged and uneven. The frosting from the ruined birthday cake was still dried in streaks across her burgundy top, giving her an unsettling, chaotic appearance. She stared at the iron box in Iris’s hands, her eyes wide with a mixture of triumph and desperation.
"Give me that box, Iris. Right now," Martha demanded, her voice dropping to a dangerous, low register.
"It’s not money, Martha. It’s just an envelope," Iris replied, clutching the iron box tightly against her chest as she stepped back into the shadows.
"You don't understand anything!" Martha snapped, stepping forward and surprising Iris with a sudden, raw break in her fierce demeanor.
The anger in Martha’s eyes flickered, replaced briefly by a profound, exhausted sadness that caught the teenager off guard. For a fleeting second, Martha didn't look like an abusive tyrant; she looked like a woman pushed to the absolute brink of destruction.
"Your grandfather didn't just hide money," Martha said, her voice shaking as she reached out a hesitant hand. "He ruined us. He took everything my husband and I worked for and left it to you out of spite. That money in the box—or whatever is in that envelope—it belongs to this family. To all of us."
Iris shook her head, tears spilling over her eyelashes. "He loved me. He wouldn't do that just to be cruel."
"He was a bitter old man," Martha shot back, her fury flaring up again as she lunged forward to grab the box.
A sharp struggle ensued. Iris pulled away, but the metal latch caught on her sleeve, ripping the fabric. The iron box slipped from her grip and crashed onto the concrete floor, bursting open. The aged envelope slid out, skidding across the dusty ground toward Martha’s feet. Martha dropped to her knees, her trembling fingers tearing the paper open. She pulled out a single sheet of heavy parchment, her eyes scanning the handwritten lines.
May you like
As Martha read the words, the color drained entirely from her face, and a soft, horrifying gasp escaped her lips.
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