Things We Don’t Talk About

———



I woke up to fingers running gently through my hair.



At first, I thought I was dreaming, until the lullaby began.



Low. Melodic. But wrong.

It was that same language I'd heard through the walls, the one that makes your stomach twist and your teeth clench.



She sat on the edge of my bed, I can’t see her face; it’s swallowed by the dark.



But her hand keeps moving, slow and rhythmic, stroking my hair like she’s lulling something else to sleep. Her eyes are half-closed, swaying as she hums that twisted tune.



And then I realize—



I forgot to turn on my bedroom light before falling asleep.



I kept my breathing slow and shallow, pretending to sleep. limbs screaming to move, to run, but something in me knows:

Don’t let her know you’re awake.



Don’t move.



The singing stops.



She sniffles.

A choked, trembling sob leaks through her lips.



She starts crying quietly, like she’s trying not to be heard. Like she’s afraid.



“No...” she whispers, her voice cracking like a child’s. “He still dreams like a child… still soft…”



I almost convince myself she’s sleep-talking—

Until her hand suddenly tangles in my hair and pulls.



I flinched and let out a sharp gasp. "Mama—!"



She goes still.



Her grip loosened… then shifts. Her fingers wrapped tightly around my trembling arms.



Her face inches closer. I can smell her breath,..warm, wrong, too close. Her eyes are wide with terror. Her voice shakes as she hisses:



“Don’t say anything."

"Don’t say a word anymore.”



I was too scared to speak. I couldn't even nod.



She held me like that for a long, shuddering moment. Her breath was hot and ragged against my cheek. Her hands were too tight, like if she lets go, I’ll vanish. Her eyes darting around the room.



Then, like a switch flipping, she goes completely still.



"Mom?" I whispered, so softly it barely made a sound.



She was at eye level with me.

But she wasn't looking at me.



She looked past me.





Behind me....



No... no.

It’s happening AGAIN.



.



This is not a safe novel.



It's a collection of short, self-contained stories, each chapter unraveling a new descent, a different nightmare.



Some stories are brief. Others not so.



No heroes. No clean endings. Just answers that should have stayed buried.



Read alone if you must. But don't say we didn't warn you.





Reader Warning:

This series contains psychological horror, disturbing imagery, death, and paranormal themes. Reader discretion is advised. Each chapter is a self-contained story, perfect for short, spine-tingling reads.