Cold Hearts, Burning Lies.

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CHAPTER ONE

TRIGGER WARNING : this chapter contains violence, blood, and murder.

The air is thick with an unnatural silence as I push open the door to my home, my fingers trembling on the knob. The familiar creak of the wood feels unsettling today, as if it's warning me of the horrors that lie ahead. I step inside, the sunlight streaming through the windows casting long shadows that dance eerily across the floor.

"Mom?" I call, my voice small and fragile. The house echoes back my silence, amplifying my growing unease. It's strange—something feels wrong, but I can't quite place it. As I take a few hesitant steps into the living room, my heart begins to race.

My eyes scan the room, searching for the comforting sight of my mother or the playful giggles of my baby sister. Instead, my gaze lands on the overturned coffee table, a spilled cup of tea staining the carpet, the porcelain shards glinting like tiny stars scattered across the floor.

"Mama!" I cry out again, louder this time, desperation creeping into my voice. I move toward the hallway, my feet stumbling as I race toward the kitchen, my heart pounding in my chest. With each step, an ominous feeling settles over me like a heavy blanket.

"Mama, where are you?" I whisper, panic rising within me. I reach the threshold of the kitchen and stop dead in my tracks.

The sight before me freezes me in place.

My world goes still the moment I see it—my mother's head, severed and discarded on the cold ground like a gruesome afterthought. My chest tightens, breath caught in my throat as the horror of the scene consumes me. The blood pools beneath it, a stark reminder that this isn't a nightmare I can wake from. Every muscle in my body screams for me to move, to run, to scream, but I'm frozen in place, numb.

The woman who raised me, protected me, is gone, and all that remains is a twisted reminder of the brutality I've long tried to escape. Yet, even in that moment of devastating clarity, I can't shed a single tear. I can only stare, my mind struggling to process how a person could become so broken—so erased. Pain surges through me, but not enough to break me. No, I'm too far gone for that.

My mother lies sprawled on the cold tile floor, her body twisted at an unnatural angle. My heart sinks as I take in the sight—her once vibrant face is now pale and lifeless, eyes wide open and staring blankly into nothingness. A sense of disbelief washes over me as I take a hesitant step forward, the world around me fading into a blur.

My knees buckle beneath me as the weight of the scene hits me like a crashing wave. I collapse to the ground, my hands shaking as they reach out, desperate to touch the head that once held my mother's gentle smile. But now, it's cold, lifeless—devoid of everything I once knew. A sob tears from my throat, raw and broken, as the reality of it all shatters the numbness that has kept me together for so long.

"Mama," I choke, my voice barely a whisper at first, before it grows louder, frantic. "Mama!" My cries echo through the emptiness of the room, a hollow sound that only deepens the void inside me. I clutch my chest, gasping for air as my sobs come in violent waves, tears streaming down my face. "Please... Mama, no..." I beg as if my words could somehow reverse time, bring my mother back, undo the horror I'm witnessing. But there's no going back, no fixing what's already lost.

My whole body shakes with the force of my grief, my voice hoarse as I scream for the one person who has always been there, always strong. Now she's gone, and I feel as if a part of me has been ripped away too.

As I kneel there, a soft whimper echoes from the other room, pulling my attention away from my grief. A small voice, weak and frightened, breaks through the suffocating silence. It's my sister. My heart races as I realize I have to find my baby sister.