Chapter Ten

The hallway is quieter now; the only sound is my shallow, ragged breaths. My footsteps echo faintly as I move farther from the kitchen, from it, from the grotesque reality of what I've done. I need to think. I need to breathe.

The coldness of the upstairs corridor bites at my skin as I enter the bedroom, my sanctuary and my prison all in one. The door clicks shut behind me, and I lean against it, sinking to the floor, my legs finally giving out beneath the weight of my panic.

The room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Shadows gather in the corners, thick and watchful, as if they, too, are waiting—waiting for me to break.

'I fed it his remains.'

The thought spins around in my head, over and over, tightening the knot of dread in my chest. How could I have been so careless? So reckless?

But I didn't have a choice, did I? I couldn't just leave him there to rot. Not with the baby coming. Not with Maya...

My hand instinctively moves to my stomach, fingers tracing over the soft fabric of my dress. My child. The place it was meant to be home in is instead empty. Empty of a child, of joy, of guilt, of consciousness. The only thing keeping me tethered to this world, this nightmare, is the child Maya is carrying...It hurts to feel nothing.

My gaze lifts to the bed, where Maya sits, a book in hand. The bowl of cereal I gave her earlier is almost empty. She must have been so relaxed, so carefree but now, she looks uneasy, her brow furrowed, eyes darting toward the door, as if sensing the storm brewing within me.

"Juliana?" she asks, her voice laced with concern but edged with something else—caution? It's hard to tell. "Are you okay?" Her eyes flicker to the door, as if anticipating what might come next. I can't shake the feeling that she's waiting for something—maybe for me to unravel completely.

I nod, but the lie hangs heavy in the air. 'The less she knows, the better.'

I push off the ground and head to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

My thoughts flicker back to the kitchen, to it—sitting there, eating, smiling, acting like nothing is wrong. 'How does it not know? Does it truly believe I'm still the same Ana, the same wife who would tolerate his lies, his betrayals? Does it recall that night? ' 

'No. It can't...but It must know something. Giovanni would have known.' He always had a way of seeing through me, through my masks but then again, this... this thing pretending to be him isn't Giovanni.

I can still see his body, pale and cold on the floor of that room. Lifeless. Empty. Limbless now too.

And most obvious of all...

Dead.

Despite that, it is downstairs, walking, talking, eating...eating himself. 'him, eating him' The bile rises in my throat again, and I force it down. I can't fall apart now. Not when there's so much left to do.

I stand, shakily, and move to the vanity, catching my reflection in the mirror. My face is pale, dark shadows clinging beneath my eyes like bruises. I barely recognize the woman staring back at me. I barely did before when Giovanni was still here, but now I question if I, too, have been replaced with something more uncanny.

I lean closer, studying my own eyes, searching for something...anything...that will make this make sense. But all I see is fear and the deep, gnawing ache of regret.

Two months. That's all I have left until my child arrives. Two months to figure out how to end this nightmare. Two months to rid myself of my late husband, of his mistress, and of this creature, this thing that's pretending to be my husband.

I can't let it stay. Not when I know what it isn't. Not when I know what I've done.

Suddenly, a noise from downstairs breaks the silence—a clattering of silverware, a soft, familiar laugh. My stomach twists.

'It's still eating. It's still here.'

I turn away from the mirror, pressing my palms to my temples, trying to push the thoughts away but the weight of it is suffocating, the guilt, the horror of it all pressing down on me like a vice.

'I need to get rid of it but how?'

'I can't confront it—not yet. I need a plan. Something that won't draw suspicion. Something that will ensure this time, it-he stays dead.'

I walk over to the walk-in closet, pulling out a small leather journal from beneath the hats. My hands are shaking and the leather feels cold in my hands. Soon, I race through the pages to find a specific note. I find the notes I made earlier—plans, scribbled ideas, a rough outline of how I'd thought it would go.

"Are you cheating on him?" Maya's words echo in my ears. 'She heard the laugh too... but she doesn't know, does she? What is downstairs...nor what it is currently eating.'

I'd quickly planned everything after Giovanni's death, but I hadn't anticipated this. I hadn't planned for a creature that would take his place, smiling with his face, touching me with his hands.

'I need to get rid of it.'

"Not right now, Maya," I force out, a tremor in my voice.

I can't wait until my child arrives. I want to raise them away from this world of lies and pretense, to show them the love I never experienced. They deserve a life free from monsters lurking smiles and front. But then I wonder... am I not a monster too?

"You look... a little off, Juliana," Maya continues, her tone deceptively light. "Is everything okay at home? You seem... distracted."

I close the journal and tuck it back under the hats, my heart pounding in my chest. Shivers rush up my spine.

"Maya, shut up" I coldly state. Not in the mood to entertain her.

'Tomorrow. I'll begin tomorrow.'

The house settles around me, creaking and groaning as if it knows what's coming.

And so does it.