THREAT

I stood there for what felt like hours, frozen in place, the weight of Elizabeth's words pressing down on me like a suffocating blanket. My mom—a woman who had always seemed so normal, so loving—was involved in a crime syndicate. The very thought made my stomach churn, and my mind raced, trying to reconcile the woman I knew with the shocking revelation Elizabeth had just thrown at me.

I could barely process what she had said, let alone believe it. But as I thought about it more, the pieces started to fit together, like fragments of a puzzle I had been too blind to see. All those small moments, the ones I had brushed off as insignificant, now loomed large in my memory.

The phone calls. The ones that always came late at night, when she thought I was asleep. I never heard the conversations, but the way her voice changed—more clipped, more guarded—stuck in my mind. I would hear her mutter things like, "I'll take care of it," or "We can't risk being caught." At the time, I had assumed it was work-related stress or perhaps a long-lost friend she was catching up with. Now, I knew better.

And the money. The large sums that would suddenly appear, tucked away in strange places. Her reluctance to explain where it came from was always met with a forced smile and a quick change of subject. I should've pressed her, I should've asked more questions, but I had always respected her privacy, trusting her without hesitation. How foolish I had been.

But now, with Elizabeth's cryptic warnings in my head, I couldn't stop thinking about those moments. How much had I missed? How much had she hidden from me? The anger I felt was raw and visceral, but it was tinged with confusion and fear. How could she have lied to me for so long?

The path ahead was clear. I had to find out the truth. But as I walked back home, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that I was being watched. Every step I took seemed to echo louder than the last, and every shadow felt darker. I couldn't be sure, but I had this overwhelming sense that someone—someone dangerous—was following me. I quickened my pace, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up, but when I glanced over my shoulder, there was nothing there. Still, the feeling wouldn't go away.

Was I being paranoid? Was it just the weight of the situation making me feel this way? Or was there more to Elizabeth's words than I realized?

When I finally reached my front door, I hesitated for a moment, scanning the street. It was eerily quiet. The kind of quiet that made my skin crawl. I unlocked the door, stepped inside, and closed it quickly behind me, almost as though I were afraid someone might follow me in.

Inside, the house felt different—empty. It was a place I had known my whole life, yet now it felt foreign, as though I didn't belong here anymore. The kitchen, the living room, my mom's bedroom—everything seemed the same, but somehow, it all felt wrong. The walls seemed to close in around me, suffocating me with a thousand unanswered questions.

I couldn't stay here. I needed to keep moving, to find answers. But where? What could I possibly do? My mom had been involved in something criminal, and I had no idea where to begin searching for the truth.

I sank down onto my bed, rubbing my face in exhaustion. The weight of the world seemed to settle on my shoulders. I could feel the panic rising in my chest, but I forced myself to breathe slowly, to calm down. This wasn't the time to fall apart. Not when I was so close to uncovering something that could change everything.

But as I lay there, trying to gather my thoughts, I heard it.

A faint sound, coming from downstairs. A soft thud, followed by the sound of something scraping against the floor. My heart leaped into my throat.

I wasn't alone.

I grabbed the first thing I could find—an old baseball bat my mom had kept in the closet—and crept down the hallway, every step slow and deliberate. I couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of something far worse than I had ever imagined. My mom had kept so many secrets, and now, the dark world she had hidden from me was beginning to bleed into my own.

I reached the stairs and peeked around the corner. Nothing. Just the dim light filtering through the hallway window. But that didn't explain the noise. It had been real. I was sure of it.

I stepped forward cautiously, my pulse racing. Every creak of the floorboards seemed to echo in the silence. As I neared the living room, I froze. A shadow flitted across the window.

Someone was in the house.

Adrenaline surged through me. My hands were shaking, but I gripped the bat tighter, ready for whatever was coming. I moved faster now, stepping lightly, trying not to make a sound. As I reached the doorway to the living room, I peered around it.

There, standing in the middle of the room, was a figure. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in dark clothes. My heart slammed against my ribs. They were looking straight at me.

For a moment, everything froze. I felt the weight of their gaze, cold and calculating, as though they had known I would be there all along. The silence stretched on, unbearable, until finally, the figure spoke, their voice low and gravelly. "I wouldn't go any further if I were you."

I didn't answer. My mind was spinning, trying to make sense of it all. But before I could react, the figure stepped back, disappearing into the shadows.

It was a warning. A threat.

I swallowed hard, my thoughts racing. Who was this person? What did they want? And most importantly—how much did they know?

I backed away slowly, never taking my eyes off the spot where the figure had vanished. I was certain of one thing now: I wasn't the only one searching for answers.

The darkness was closing in around me, and I had no idea who I could trust anymore.