I REMARRIED AFTER MY WIFE PASSED AWAY – WHEN I CAME BACK FROM A BUSINESS TRIP, MY DAUGHTER SAID, “DADDY, NEW MOM IS DIFFERENT WHEN YOU’RE NOT HERE.”
It had been two years since my wife’s death when I decided to remarry. My 5-year-old daughter, Sophie, and I moved into my new wife Amelia’s big house, inherited from her late parents. Amelia seemed kind and patient, a ray of light in our lives… at least, at first.
One night, after a week-long business trip, Sophie held me tight and whispered, “DADDY, NEW MOM IS DIFFERENT WHEN YOU’RE NOT HERE.” Her voice trembled, and a shiver ran through my body.
“What do you mean, honey?” I asked softly, kneeling down to look into her eyes.
“She locks herself in the attic,” Sophie said. “I HEAR STRANGE NOISES. SHE SCARES ME. SHE SAYS I CAN’T GO IN. AND… SHE’S MEAN.”
I was stunned. “Why do you say she’s mean, honey?” I asked, my heart racing.
“She makes me clean my room by myself and she won’t give me ice cream, even if I behave,” Sophie replied.
The locked room thing unsettled me. I had noticed Amelia going in there, but I assumed it was her personal space. Her behavior with Sophie also deeply disturbed me. Had I made a mistake bringing her into our lives?
That night, unable to sleep, I heard Amelia’s soft footsteps heading to the attic. I followed her. She entered the room and didn’t lock it. My heart was pounding. Acting on instinct, I slammed the door open and entered the room.
For months, my 15-year-old son had been growing distant. His once-open demeanor had faded into silence, his laughter replaced by an unreadable expression. I had convinced myself that it was just adolescence, that this was a phase. But something in my gut whispered otherwise.
That night, as I tidied up the house, I noticed his backpack slumped in the corner. An unshakable worry gripped me, and before I could talk myself out of it, I opened it.
Inside, neatly tucked away, was a package of diapers.
I froze. My mind flooded with questions, each more unsettling than the last. Why would my teenage son need diapers? Was he hiding something? Was he in trouble?
Sleep was impossible that night. I turned the possibilities over in my mind, each theory leading to more doubt, more fear. Confronting him outright might push him further away, so I made a decision—one that would change everything.
The next day, I followed him.
Chapter 1: A Mother’s Unease
The changes had been gradual at first—missed conversations, distant eyes, moments of hesitation when I asked simple questions. I had dismissed them as growing pains. Now, faced with evidence of something deeper, I realized I had been blind to a hidden part of my son’s life.
As I watched him that morning, I noted every movement—his careful glance over his shoulder, the way he clutched his backpack a little tighter. Something was weighing on him.
When school ended, I followed him.
His route was deliberate, leading me away from familiar neighborhoods into an unfamiliar part of town. With every step, the tension in my chest grew. What was he hiding? Where was he going?
Chapter 2: The Run-Down House
He stopped in front of an old, neglected house. The paint was peeling, the garden overgrown. It looked abandoned, yet he produced a key from his pocket and slipped inside.
I hesitated, my heartbeat hammering in my ears. What could possibly be inside? Who had given him that key?
A part of me wanted to turn back, to convince myself that this wasn’t my place. But I had already come too far.
I stepped closer.
Then, just as I reached the door, a voice from inside sent chills down my spine.
“You shouldn’t be here.”