𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙎𝙖𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙋𝙖𝙘𝙩

Chapter 1: Homecoming

Jade hadn't thought about her childhood home in years. As she turned onto the gravel driveway, memories—both sweet and chaotic—rushed in, whispering old secrets and doubts. The road felt heavy beneath her tires, echoing long-buried voices urging her to reconsider.

Her car rolled down the now-paved path, but the vibrant trees swayed as they always had, their leaves rustling as if warning of the tension brewing beneath the calm surface. With each passing second, the knot in her stomach tightened. She hadn't been here since running away as a teenager, and now, something in this place felt like it had been waiting for her. Despite the calls, messages, and letters from her family over the years, she'd ignored them all. Until today.

At the end of the drive, the house came into view, freshly painted in soft beige with white trim. It looked misleadingly normal, almost too inviting. The freshly cut lawn gleamed, flower beds bursting with color under the afternoon sun. Everything appeared perfect, as if prepared just for her return. But that perfection felt hollow, masking a deeper truth—something hidden beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered.

Jade stepped out of the car, her pulse quickening. The front porch, with its carefully placed chairs and potted plants, drew her forward. Yet the cheerful colors felt staged, like a disguise to hide the decay beneath. Her chest tightened as she took in the scene, the tension of her past pulling at her. What am I even doing here?

Her fingers hovered over the door knocker, her breath catching in her throat. The nausea rose again—had she made a mistake coming back? After everything she'd tried to forget? The house held memories that were too sharp, too raw. Still, she knocked. The sound echoed through the stillness, shattering the wall of avoidance she had spent years building.

The door opened, revealing her mother, a tight smile on her face. "You're early," she said, her voice short but polite. "I didn't expect you until later tonight."

Jade forced a smile. "I hit some light traffic," she replied, stepping inside. The entryway was spotless—too spotless. Every surface radiated, and an array of framed family photos lined the walls, capturing moments of forced joy. Yet beneath those smiles lay truths too dark for a camera to catch. The house felt scrubbed clean of its past, but some stains never truly fade.

Fresh flowers decorated the console table, their bright petals a vivid contrast to the lifeless atmosphere. "Picked them this morning," her mother said casually, though her fingers twitched at her side. Jade noticed the movement—one of her mother's old tells. She was nervous.

"How was the drive?" her mother asked, eyes flicking toward the window.

"Fine. Just long." Jade kept her tone neutral, though every word felt like walking on eggshells. The house, with its bright, polished surfaces, seemed to conceal something darker, something just out of reach.

As Jade moved deeper into the house, the fresh scent of lavender Fabuloso mixed with a faint mustiness, creating an oddly comforting yet slightly unsettling atmosphere. The pastel walls felt too cheerful, out of place in the suffocating silence. Everything—the glowing hardwood floors, the carefully organized decor—seemed like it was trying too hard to forget what had once happened here.

"So," Jade said, cutting through the silence as she glanced at the family photos, "what have you and Dad been up to?" Her eyes landed on one in particular—a family reunion, everyone smiling against a backdrop of green fields and blue skies. But even in that moment of joy, Jade could sense the undertone of tension, the unspoken truths hidden beneath their grins.

Turning back to her mother, Jade's gaze caught on the familiar mark—the snake coiled just beneath her mother's sleeve. She had seen it before, not only on her mother but on her father, aunts, cousins, and grandparents. It was always there, just out of sight. She had once asked about it when she was younger, but the silence that followed had taught her not to ask again.