Chapter 4 – A Family in Denial

Initially, Eva's alterations were scarcely perceptible unless you knew where to look for them. While cooking, she hummed lullabies and pulled Lily's hair into tidy braids, displaying her typical gentle and caring nature. However, she would suddenly become aloof and icy, her voice as sharp as shards of glass, and she would yell at her kids without cause.

 She became particularly antagonistic toward women. Eva's face darkened whenever Martha or anyone else from town came to talk. She would gaze at them with eerie intensity, her eyes cold and her mouth clenched. She detested them.

One evening, with a casual tone and a brittle smile, she asked Thomas, "Why don't you invite the men over?"

 From the other side of the kitchen, Thomas blinked at her. "I had no idea that we needed an excuse to invite people over."

 Eva's fists gripped the counter so tightly that they rendered her knuckles white as she looked away. She whispered, "I simply think... men tend to be more interesting." As soon as the tension subsided, she resumed her smile and kissed him on his cheek as though nothing odd had been spoken.

 What most troubled Thomas were these little moments—the flashes of harshness, the odd detachedness. Eva seemed to have lost her identity, as though a piece of her was constantly... somewhere else.

However, she would crack it off every time he tried to discuss it with her. It's all in your head, Tom. I'm simply worn out.

 Believing her was simpler than facing the persistent doubt in his head.

Father Mason showed up at the gate one rainy day while Thomas was arranging firewood in the rear. He was wearing a wet coat and had a regretful expression on his face. His eyes were filled with concern, as though he had witnessed too much and was burdened by it daily.

 The priest said in a low, agitated voice, "Thomas Collins?"

Cleaning both hands on his slacks, Thomas straightened. "Yes? Am I able to assist you?

 Father Mason took a step forward, his eyes darting to the house as though he was waiting for something or someone to come out of the darkness. To warn you, I came," he replied softly. "Relating to the house."

Thomas scowled. "Warn me? What is it about?

"The home is doomed." "Decades have passed," Mason remarked. Desperation cracked in his voice. Mothers are always the ones that start the curse. They are the first to be taken. It won't stop until the entire family is annihilated once it takes them.

A surge of annoyance rose in Thomas's chest. Eva is doing well; I'm not sure what tales you've heard. We're all doing well.

Mason gave a headshake. "No. You're not. He looked over his shoulder, wondering if anyone was observing. "Go immediately, Thomas. Before it consumes her entirely.

Thomas tightened his jaw in an attempt to control his rage. "Look, I understand your worry, but we don't think curses exist. Eva is simply exhausted; she is not possessed.

Sadness darkened Mason's gaze. "That's also what the others said." Without saying another word, he turned and left, his shoulders hunched in surrender.

With his heart hammering hard in his chest, Thomas watched him leave. He ignored the priest's admonition, even though it bothered him. No curse was present. No demons were present. His wife was all that was present; she was worn out, anxious, and even a bit aloof. He wouldn't accept that.

Now, the dead birds arrived frequently. Almost every morning, David discovered them—on the porch, on the windowsill, and occasionally strewn about the front lawn like ominous signs. He kept it to himself. He didn't have to.

 He felt a strong, gnawing hunger that twisted inside himself like an alive thing when he saw them. He would collect the birds and eat them covertly, burying the remnants in the backyard or concealing them beneath his bed. He enjoyed the sensation of the feather on his tongue and the small bones crunching between his teeth. It let him connect with the inner buddy that murmured around him at night.

He heard his mother's voice coming from below one morning while he was finishing up a rather big crow.

"Breakfast, David!"

 With an odd, dizzy giggle rising in his throat, he cleaned his lips on his sleeve. He could sense his pal approaching now.

 The town learned later that day that another mother had passed away. Her eyes were open and vacant, as though she had just ceased to exist, and she had been discovered seated at the table in her kitchen with her hands crossed neatly in her lap.

 [Once more, the villagers started muttering. They were aware of the warning indicators. The curse had returned. And it wouldn't stop this time.

It took place late one evening. When Thomas opened his eyes after hearing gentle footsteps, he discovered Eva sitting at the edge of the bed. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, her arms drooping slack at her sides, and she remained still.

 His heart thumping in his chest, he muttered, "Eva?" "What are you doing?"

 She didn't respond. She cocked her head slightly, as though she were hearing something that only she could hear.

 Then her visage changed in front of his eyes.

In that fleeting instant, it wasn't Eva standing there, but it was subtle—just a light up, a shadow moving across her features. Something else was covering the skin like a mask, something ancient and chilly.

The moment vanished as soon as Thomas blinked. Eva had returned to her normal self, her face expressionless and bewildered.

 "Tom?" Her voice trembled as she whispered. "I believe I was sleepwalking."

 With a dry throat, Thomas gazed at her. Doubt entered his head for the first time.

 Perhaps the priest had been mistaken after all.

Like wildfire, the rumors swept through the community. Now the pattern was obvious—Eva, like everyone else before her, was possessed. And the killings would go on as long as the house was cursed.

 Mothers started locking their doors, avoiding contact with Eva and her kids. The formerly cordial neighbors ceased to answer their phones. Nobody desired to be the next.

The truth could no longer be ignored by Thomas. Something nasty and unknown had taken the place of the lady he had loved. She had been stolen by the creature in the home, and it would not stop until it took everything else.

He felt the weight of powerlessness bearing down on him as he sat at his kitchen table with his thoughts in his palms. Now that he had disregarded every indication and caution, it was already too late.

 He heard Eva's gentle, lovely voice singing a lullaby to Lily from upstairs. It sounded nearly normal, almost... right, for a second.

 Thomas, however, was now wiser. She wasn't the one. Not at all.

 The fear was back. And it wasn't going anywhere this time.