Is That Mom

Part 7 of Chapter 4

Chapter 4:

Breaking the Silence

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Part 7:

A Shattered Night

The house was shrouded in silence, the kind of deep, heavy quiet that felt almost unnatural. Ethan lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind too restless to let him sleep. He replayed the events of the past few days over and over, each thought spiraling into the next, creating a chaotic tangle of fear, confusion, and a desperate need for answers. The meeting with Marcus, the cryptic warnings, the car outside—it all felt like pieces of a puzzle he couldn’t quite put together, and yet he could feel the urgency growing, pressing down on him like a weight.

He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. 2:47 a.m. The darkened room seemed to close in around him, and he could hear the faint rustle of leaves outside, the occasional creak of the house settling. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to think about what his life had been like before all of this—before the journal, before the secrets, before his world had been turned upside down. It felt like a lifetime ago.

Suddenly, a loud crash shattered the stillness, jolting him upright. The sound was sharp, violent, and immediate, like glass breaking. For a split second, Ethan thought he was dreaming, but the adrenaline surging through his veins told him otherwise. He scrambled out of bed, his heart pounding, and rushed to the window, peering out into the darkness.

At first, he saw nothing, just the familiar outline of the street and the shadows stretching across the lawn. But then he noticed it—a jagged hole in the window downstairs, glass scattered across the porch like shards of ice. Panic seized him, making his breath hitch in his throat. Someone had thrown something through the window. And whoever it was, they wanted to send a message.

Ethan hesitated for a moment, his mind screaming at him to stay hidden, to stay safe. But the need to know what was happening, to understand, overpowered his fear. Slowly, he crept downstairs, every step careful and measured, as if the house itself had become a minefield. His bare feet slid across the cold floor, and he could feel his pulse throbbing in his ears, the rush of blood drowning out everything else.

As he approached the shattered window, he saw the object that had been hurled through it—a brick, heavy and solid, now lying amidst the fragments of glass. His stomach twisted at the sight, a sickening dread settling over him. And then he saw it, attached to the brick with a piece of string: a small, folded note.

Ethan’s hands trembled as he reached for the note, the paper crackling as he unfolded it. In the dim light, he could barely make out the words, scrawled in harsh, jagged handwriting:

“Stop asking questions, or you’ll regret it.”

The message was simple, but it hit him like a punch to the gut. He stood there, staring at the note, trying to process what it meant. This wasn’t just a warning—it was a threat, direct and personal. Someone knew what he was doing, and they wanted him to stop. But who? And why now?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind him. Ethan spun around, his heart leaping into his throat, but it was only his grandmother, standing at the base of the stairs, her face pale and stricken. She must have heard the crash too, and now she was looking at him with a mix of fear and confusion. “Ethan, what’s going on?” she asked, her voice shaky.

Ethan hesitated, the note still clenched in his hand. For a moment, he considered lying, telling her it was nothing, just some random act of vandalism. But he knew that wouldn’t hold up, not with the brick, the broken window, and the raw terror etched on his face. She deserved to know the truth, even if it would only make things worse.

“They’re trying to scare me,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Whoever’s behind all this… they know I’m looking for Mom. And they don’t want me to find her.”

His grandmother’s eyes widened, her hands clutching the banister for support. “Ethan, this has to stop,” she said, her tone urgent, almost pleading. “This is dangerous. You’re putting yourself at risk, and… and I can’t lose you too.”

Ethan felt a flash of anger, a sudden, irrational surge that made him want to lash out, to scream. She didn’t understand. No one did. How could he stop, when he was so close to uncovering the truth? How could he turn back now, after everything he’d been through? “I can’t stop, Grandma,” he said, his voice hardening. “I need to know what happened. I need to find her.”

“Ethan, please,” she said, her voice breaking. “Listen to me. This… this isn’t worth your life.”

But Ethan shook his head, his jaw clenched. “I’m not giving up,” he said, and he could hear the stubbornness in his own voice, the refusal to back down. “I can’t. Not now.”

For a moment, they just stood there, facing each other across the living room, the shattered glass glittering at their feet like pieces of a broken mirror. Ethan could see the tears welling up in his grandmother’s eyes, but he didn’t move, didn’t reach out to comfort her. There was a wall between them now, one that had been growing ever since he’d found the journal, and he didn’t know how to break it down.

The silence stretched out, heavy and suffocating, until his grandmother finally spoke, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m scared for you, Ethan,” she said. “I’m scared of what you’ll find.”

Ethan’s resolve faltered, just for a moment, as he saw the fear in her eyes, the fear of a woman who had already lost too much. But he pushed it aside, forcing himself to stay focused. “I know,” he said quietly. “But I need to do this. Even if it means...”

He didn’t finish the sentence, because he didn’t want to say it out loud. Even if it meant getting hurt. Even if it meant putting himself in danger. He didn’t want to think about that, but he couldn’t ignore it, either. The note was a reminder that this wasn’t just a search for answers anymore—it was a fight. And someone out there was willing to do whatever it took to keep him from the truth.

“I’m going to find out who did this,” he said, more to himself than to her. “And I’m going to find out why.”

His grandmother didn’t respond. She just looked at him, her expression a mix of sorrow and resignation, as if she already knew that there was nothing she could say to change his mind. “Please, be careful,” she said finally, her voice barely more than a whisper. “Promise me that.”

Ethan nodded, but he knew it was a promise he might not be able to keep. He was in too deep now, and the threats were becoming real, tangible, like the brick that lay on the floor. He had a feeling that things were only going to get worse from here, that the danger was only beginning. But he couldn’t stop, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to keep going, because the alternative—living with the uncertainty, the unanswered questions—was worse than any threat they could throw at him.

As he turned away from his grandmother, he picked up the brick and the note, folding the paper and slipping it into his pocket. The broken window would have to be fixed, but that could wait until morning. For now, he needed to think, to figure out his next move. Because this wasn’t just about finding his mother anymore—it was about survival. And if they thought a threat would scare him off, they were wrong. It had only made him more determined.

Ethan climbed the stairs back to his room, his thoughts racing. The night had been shattered, but it wasn’t over yet. Somewhere out there, someone was watching, waiting, and he needed to be ready. The game had changed, and he wasn’t just searching for answers anymore—he was preparing for a confrontation. And he was willing to do whatever it took to win.