The Mason Family Secret

The darkness is a peaceful void, a temporary escape from the ache and weight of your past. But peace is fleeting. Your eyes snap open, finding yourself on the sticky kitchen floor, the metallic tang of blood thick in the air.

This all started with a piece of bread. Four days without eating had driven you to steal, and for that, you were punished, called names that echoed the voice in your head.

Sitting up, a sharp pain in your ribs makes you hiss. You need to get to your room, the attic sanctuary where you hide your few possessions and tend to your wounds.

You tiptoe upstairs, careful to avoid the creaking floorboards. In the attic, you retrieve your mirror and a stolen first-aid kit. You wash the blood from your arms under warm water, rinsing the grime from your hair, feeling the painful gash hidden at the back of your head. They never leave marks on your face; they're cruel, but not stupid.

You're examining your bruised ribs when her sickly sweet voice calls from downstairs. "Thea, come down here."

It sends shivers down your spine. She rarely uses your name, and this tone is unnerving. "Thea! Get down here now!" The demand is harsher now, more familiar.

You comply. You don't need the punishment to escalate. At the bottom of the stairs, you see something you've never seen before: your mother, genuinely smiling. It's not the twisted smirk she saves for outsiders, but a real smile. Drunk, you think, but the Cheshire Cat grin makes your stomach churn.

What is she planning?

"Thea dear, go pack your things," she says, giddy.

This is getting weirder. You gulp. "Um, Ma'am? Where am I going?"

You flinch, expecting a blow, but it doesn't come.

"You're going to live with your father."