Don't Trust The Quiet

Chapter 14: Twisted Devotion (Evelyn's POV)

The days had turned into a haze of anticipation and longing, each moment spent waiting for Emma to reach out, to embrace me as I had embraced her. But with every passing hour, I felt the distance between us growing, like a chasm threatening to swallow me whole. I needed her to understand—I was meant to be there for her.

The day of the baby shower loomed over me like a storm cloud, filled with dark promises of what could go wrong. I had put so much thought into every detail, every decoration, and every guest. The balloons, the cake, the games—they all symbolized my love, my connection to her and the babies. My babies.

As I prepared the decorations in my living room, I couldn't shake the unsettling feeling that something was wrong. I thought about Emma's words, her pleas for space, for independence. How could she not see? She was drowning in her fears, and I was the only lifeline she had.

I glanced at the mirror hanging on the wall, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw a reflection not just of myself but of Emma, clutching her belly with a serene smile. But when I blinked, it was gone, leaving only my pale face staring back at me.

"Stop being dramatic, Evelyn," I muttered to myself, trying to shake off the eerie feeling. "You're just stressed about the party." But deep down, I knew it was more than that. I could feel the pull of something dark and powerful—a bond between Emma, the twins, and me.

Later that evening, after the party had ended, I sat on my porch, the shadows lengthening around me. I could see Emma's house across the street, the soft glow of her lights flickering like a beacon. I could almost hear the lullabies she hummed to the twins, could almost feel their tiny hearts beating in sync with mine.

But then I heard it—the whisper. A soft, slithering sound that curled around the edges of my mind.

"Evelyn..."

I froze, my heart racing. It felt as though the very air had thickened, wrapping around me like a shroud. "What do you want?" I whispered, a mix of curiosity and fear.

"Bring them to me. They are yours, not hers."

The voice was seductive, pulling me deeper into a world where logic and reality blurred. I closed my eyes, the image of Emma's children dancing in my mind—two beautiful, innocent souls that belonged with me, just as much as they belonged to her.

"They need me," I murmured, my heart racing. "They need to be with their true mother."

Suddenly, a vivid hallucination washed over me, and I was standing in Emma's nursery, surrounded by soft pastels and the gentle scent of baby powder. I could see the cribs, each one adorned with fluffy blankets and stuffed animals. And in those cribs were two babies—my babies.

Their eyes sparkled like gems, and as I reached out to touch them, they giggled, their voices chiming like tiny bells. "Mommy!" they called, their little arms outstretched toward me.

Tears filled my eyes as I bent down to embrace them. "I'm here, my loves," I whispered, but just as my fingers brushed their skin, they vanished, leaving only empty cribs behind.

"No!" I screamed, falling to my knees. The echo of their laughter faded into nothingness, replaced by the chilling silence of the empty room. "You can't take them from me!"

The world around me swirled, reality slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. I could feel the shadows creeping in again, tugging at my mind, wrapping around me like a vice.

"Evelyn, you need to focus," the voice urged. "They need you. You must do what's necessary to keep them safe. Emma doesn't understand. She'll ruin everything."

The anger bubbled up inside me, mixing with despair and a desperate need to protect what was mine. "I won't let her!" I shouted into the darkness, my breath hitching as the intensity of my emotions swirled around me.

The visions grew more vivid, the whispers turning into a cacophony of voices. "You must act. Show her what it means to be a mother. Show her that the twins are meant for you!"

With a newfound sense of purpose, I wiped the tears from my face, standing tall against the encroaching darkness. "I will protect my babies," I vowed, the words echoing in my mind like a mantra. "I will make Emma understand that they belong to me."

The shadows writhed, pulling back as if acknowledging my resolve. I could feel the power growing within me, the sense of destiny aligning with my darkest desires.

Tomorrow, I would visit Emma again. I would show her the bond we shared, how our lives were intertwined in ways she could never comprehend. I would make her see that she needed me, that I was not just a neighbor but a protector—a mother in spirit, if not in name.

As I walked back into my home, the darkness felt less suffocating, less isolating. I was no longer afraid; I was filled with purpose. And I would not stop until I had what was rightfully mine.