A house wrapped in thorns

The night after the burn incident, the mansion seemed calm on the surface, but underneath… Kay's mind was boiling.

She sat by the dressing table, brushing her hair slowly, staring into her reflection as if she were looking through it.

"Not enough," she whispered to herself. "That little brat still has his voice. And David… he still looks at me with that coldness. I'll make him regret every second he chooses them over me."

She laughed softly—an unhinged sound in the silent room.

An idea began to take root, crawling through her mind like a vine with thorns.

Something bigger. Something they can't recover from.

The next morning, Miss Dora had to leave early to meet someone in the city. She kissed Harry goodbye, unaware of the predator watching from the hallway.

"Be good for Kay, alright?" she smiled at him.

Harry nodded nervously, clutching his toy. His little eyes darted toward Kay, who stood leaning against the wall, smiling sweetly in front of Miss Dora. But the second the door shut behind her, Kay's eyes hardened.

"You," Kay said, stepping closer. Her voice dropped into a low hiss.

"Did you tell him? Did you tell Daddy what I did yesterday?"

Harry shook his head quickly, terrified.

"Speak," she demanded, grabbing his arm.

"N-no…"

"Good boy." Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "But I still don't trust you."

She yanked him toward the stairs. "Come with me."

In the kitchen, she rummaged through drawers, her mind racing.

A simple burn isn't enough… I need something they can't hide from…

Her eyes fell on the heavy glass jar of spices on the counter. She picked it up, weighing it in her hand, imagining how fragile his tiny bones were.

No… not yet. Too messy. Think, Kay… think…

Her thoughts were interrupted by Harry's trembling voice:

"Aunty… please… I'll be good… I'll do anything…"

She tilted her head, staring at him. "Do you know how annoying your crying is?" She crouched down, grabbing his chin. "Do you know how much I hate you for existing?"

Harry's lips quivered. "D-daddy said you're my new mom…"

Kay's laugh was sudden and sharp. "New mom? Oh, darling. I am your nightmare."

She dragged him to the storage room—a dim, dusty space at the back of the mansion. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with old crates and tools. The air smelled of iron and damp wood. Harry whimpered, pulling against her grip, but she shoved him inside and locked the door.

"You'll stay here until you learn to be silent," she whispered through the crack. "No screaming. No crying. And if you do… oh, I'll hear you."

The lock clicked. She walked away, humming softly to herself, the sound chilling in its sweetness.

Hours passed.

Inside the storage room, Harry sat curled on the cold floor, hugging his knees. The shadows felt alive. Every creak of the old house made him flinch. He whispered to himself, "Daddy… Daddy please come home…"

But no one came.

When Kay returned hours later, her eyes gleamed with anticipation. She unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Harry shielded his eyes from the sudden light.

"Aww… look at you. So quiet. So scared," she said, crouching down. "But I need you to remember today forever."

She grabbed his arm, dragging him out toward the back garden.

The evening sun burned orange against the sky. The gardener had left tools scattered: shears, a rake, and a coil of rope.

Kay picked up the rope, running it through her hands. "Do you know what happens to liars?"

Harry shook his head, tears streaking his cheeks.

"They get tied up," she said softly, looping the rope around his wrists. His small hands trembled as she tightened the knot.

"Please… please, Aunty…"

"Hush," she cooed, brushing his hair back with mock tenderness. "This won't take long."

She pulled him toward the old oak tree near the garden wall. The rough bark scraped his shoulder as she forced him to stand against it. She tied the rope tight around his wrists, binding him to the trunk.

"You need to learn, my darling. You need to learn who's in charge here."

Inside the house, the phone rang. Kay froze, her smile dropping. Quickly, she turned to him.

"Not a word," she hissed, tightening the rope once more. "If you scream, I swear you won't see the next sunrise."

She left him there, his small chest heaving with sobs, and went to answer the phone. It was David, his voice calm but tired.

"Kay, I might be late again. Take care of Harry."

Kay bit back a laugh. "Of course, darling. He's… safe with me."

She hung up, eyes darkening.

Safe? No, David. You've left him in hell.

When she returned to the garden, Harry was still tied, shivering in the cooling evening air. His sobs had quieted to weak sniffles. Kay crouched down, tilting her head, studying him like a predator might study a trapped animal.

"Still alive?" she whispered.

Harry's lips trembled. "Please… let me go… I'll be good…"

She dragged the blade of the garden shears along the rope—not cutting, just enough to make him flinch.

"You think being good will save you? Oh, baby boy… nothing can save you."

She leaned close, her lips brushing his ear. "When your dad looks at you, do you know what I see? A chain. A chain keeping him from loving me. And I hate you for it."

Harry sobbed louder, panic rising. "I want Dad… please… Dad…"

Kay gripped his chin hard, forcing him to look at her.

"Daddy's not coming. Daddy never comes when you need him, does he? It's just you and me now."

She let go suddenly, stepping back. "But don't worry. I won't kill you… not yet. I want you to live. To feel it. To remember every second."

Time dragged. The sky darkened, crickets chirped in the garden. Kay eventually untied him, only to drag him back into the house by his arm. His feet stumbled on the steps, knees scraping against the wood. She didn't care.

Back in her room, she forced him to sit on the bed. His small hands shook as she dabbed more ointment on his burns.

"See how nice I am?" she whispered with a smile. "See how I care for you after you've been so bad?"

Harry winced. "It hurts…"

"Good. That means you're learning."

She cupped his face, pressing her cold nails against his bruised cheek. "You tell anyone about this, and I'll do worse. I'll make sure no one ever finds you. Do you understand?"

He nodded quickly, sobbing softly.

"Say it."

"I… I understand…"

"Good boy."

Later that night, David returned home early, his tie loosened, exhaustion in his eyes. He called for Harry, and the boy ran to him, throwing his arms around David's legs, burying his face in his father's coat.

"Whoa—hey, little man," David said, crouching down. "You okay?"

Harry didn't answer—just clung to him, shaking.

Kay watched from the staircase, her lips curving into a smile so dark it made her beautiful face look monstrous.

Hold him tight, David. Hold him while you can. Because one day… he won't be here to hold.

She turned away, humming softly as she disappeared back into her room, leaving the hallway filled with the sound of Harry's quiet, broken sobs.