Chapter 2 - The Box They Should Never Have Opened
The first scream came from my mother.
The second came from Melissa.
The third was Owen.
I knew his voice immediately.
A child's scream was different from an adult's. There was no pride in it. No attempt to hide fear.
Just terror.
Sophie was still holding my hand.
She didn't move.
Neither did I.
For several seconds, we stood on the frozen walkway beneath the pale December sky, listening to chaos erupt behind the front door.
Then something slammed against the wall inside.
A man's voice shouted.
“What the hell is that?”
Another crash.
My mother screamed again.
“Get it away from me!”
I turned toward Sophie.
“What did you put in that box?”
She looked up at me.
Her expression remained strangely calm.
“I told you.”
“You brought it for them.”
She nodded.
“But what is it?”
She hesitated.
Then she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper.
My stomach tightened.
“What is that?”
“Read it.”
I unfolded the paper.
It was written in Sophie’s handwriting.
But underneath her handwriting was something else.
A date.
A time.
And a name.
Melissa Bennett.
I looked at my daughter.
“Where did you get this?”
Sophie looked toward the house.
“Grandma doesn't know I know.”
A chill moved through me that had nothing to do with the weather.
“Sophie.”
“She told me not to tell you.”
“Who?”
“My aunt.”
My fingers tightened around the paper.
“What did Melissa tell you?”
Sophie swallowed.
“She said if I ever showed you the video, you would ruin Christmas.”
I stared at her.
“What video?”
Before she could answer, the front door flew open.
My mother stumbled onto the porch.
Her face was white.
Behind her came Melissa.
She wasn't smirking anymore.
Her hair was disheveled.
Her expensive Christmas sweater was torn at the shoulder.
And Owen was crying behind her.
“What did you do?” Melissa screamed.
Sophie didn't flinch.
My mother pointed at the box.
“You!”
Her finger shook violently.
“You brought that thing into my house!”
I stepped between her and my daughter.
“Don't you dare point at her.”
“You have no idea what you've done!”
“I think I have a pretty good idea.”
Melissa pushed past my mother.
“You need to take your daughter and leave.”
“We already left.”
“Then stay gone!”
I looked past them into the house.
The living room was destroyed.
The Christmas tree had been knocked sideways.
Several ornaments lay shattered across the floor.
The television had been turned off.
The gaming console Owen had received sat abandoned on the carpet.
And on the coffee table was the silver box.
Its lid was open.
Inside was a small black device.
A memory card.
And a folded photograph.
My mother stared at it as if it were a loaded weapon.
“What is on that?” I asked.
Nobody answered.
I looked at Sophie.
She whispered,
“Everything.”
My mother's face changed.
Not confusion.
Not fear.
Recognition.
That was the moment I knew.
Whatever was inside that box wasn't a childish prank.
My mother knew exactly what it was.
And she was terrified that I would find out.
I stepped toward the doorway.
My mother immediately blocked me.
“You're not coming back inside.”
“Move.”
“No.”
“Mom.”
Her eyes met mine.
For the first time in my life, I saw something I had never seen in them before.
Fear.
Not fear of me.
Fear of what I might discover.
Melissa grabbed the memory card.
“Mom, we need to destroy this.”
I heard every word.
So did Sophie.
I looked at Melissa.
“What did you just say?”
She froze.
My mother snapped,
“Melissa!”
Too late.
Melissa's fingers closed around the card.
I took one step forward.
“Give it to me.”
“No.”
“Give me the card.”
“You don't understand.”
“I understand that my daughter was humiliated in this house today.”
My voice dropped.
“And apparently, there's a reason all of you are terrified of a ten-year-old's Christmas present.”
Melissa backed away.
I saw my stepfather appear behind her.
His face looked exhausted.
He wasn't angry.
He looked guilty.
That was worse.
I turned to him.
“What happened?”
He lowered his eyes.
“It's complicated.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“It isn't.”
I pointed at the room.
“My daughter received a note telling her she was worthless.”
I pointed at the silver box.
“And minutes later, all of you started screaming because of something she left behind.”
I looked at every person in that room.
“So I'll ask one question.”
My voice became quiet.
“What are you hiding from me?”
Nobody answered.
Then Owen whispered,
“Mom knows.”
Melissa spun around.
“Owen!”
He flinched.
“What does Grandma know?” I asked.
Owen looked at my mother.
Then at his mother.
Then at me.
His lower lip trembled.
“She knows what happened to your dad.”
The room went silent.
My breath caught.
My father had been dead for twelve years.
My mother had always told me he died broke, bitter, and alone.
She had told me he left us.
That he had chosen another woman.
That he never wanted to see me again.
I had believed her.
For twelve years.
I looked at my mother.
“What does that have to do with Dad?”
She said nothing.
I stepped closer.
“Mom?”
Still nothing.
Then Sophie spoke.
“Because Grandpa didn't leave.”
My mother closed her eyes.
May you like
And I knew.
The story I had been told my entire adult life was a lie.
