Grandma is no more

"Let me see your necklace, babe," Arina said softly, her fingers brushing against the pendant. She smiled, and for the first time, she didn't pull away or react with discomfort. Relief washed over me. It felt like a breakthrough, like maybe, just maybe, Arina was beginning to accept it.

I leaned down, kissed her belly softly, and then kissed her goodbye before leaving the house. My heart felt lighter as I walked away, a smile playing on my lips. I allowed myself to hope that things were finally turning around. Perhaps Arina was coming to terms with everything, and we could move forward together.

But as I approached Mrs. Roselia's house, that hope was shattered. A crowd had gathered outside, their faces pale and somber. My stomach dropped, a cold dread creeping over me. I pushed through the crowd, fear gnawing at my insides, until I finally entered the house.

There, in the middle of the room, was Mrs. Roselia's lifeless body. Her eyes were wide open, frozen in a look of sheer terror. Her skin was deathly pale, almost translucent, as if all the blood had been drained from her body. I fell to my knees beside her, my mind racing. How had this happened? How could she be gone?

The people around me seemed to step back, giving me space as I struggled to comprehend what I was seeing. Tears blurred my vision, but I wiped them away, forcing myself to focus. I turned to Zara, who was standing nearby, her face streaked with tears.

"Zara, what happened?" I asked, my voice thick with emotion.

"Last night, Grandma gave me some money and told me to spend the night in a hotel. But when I came back this morning, I found her like this," Zara sobbed. "The doctor said she had a heart attack, but Mr. Zoe… Grandma was fit. This… this doesn't feel right. Look at her, it's like there's no blood left in her body."

Her words sent a chill down my spine. I gently patted Zara's head, trying to comfort her, but inside, I was gripped by a rising panic. Something was terribly wrong, something beyond my understanding. And now, with Mrs. Roselia gone, I was more alone than ever in facing whatever dark forces were at play. The fear that had been lurking at the edges of my mind suddenly closed in, suffocating me.

After Aunt Roselia's death, Zara left the town, but before she did, she handed me an amulet. Her eyes were filled with worry as she pressed it into my hand. "For the baby," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Keep it close."

I thanked her, though my mind was still reeling from the loss of Mrs. Roselia. The weight of responsibility for my family's safety now felt heavier than ever.

That night, Arina gave birth to our baby girl. Holding her for the first time, I felt a surge of love and pride. But as I gazed into her eyes, I froze. They were a deep, unsettling red, and she was smiling at me—not the helpless smile of a newborn, but something knowing, something almost eerie.

Despite my unease, I gently placed the amulet Zara had given me around her tiny neck. As I did, the baby reached out to touch my face, her small fingers brushing my skin with surprising warmth. She looked different from any newborn I had ever seen, her eyes gleaming with an intelligence far beyond her days. I kissed her softly on the forehead, trying to shake off the strange feeling that gnawed at me, and placed her gently in the crib.

I sat on the couch nearby, keeping watch over her. The house was eerily quiet, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. Suddenly, the silence was shattered by Arina's voice, filled with panic and anger.

"Why did you bring her here?" she shouted as she burst into the room, her eyes glowing red with fury. She looked both terrified and exhilarated, her emotions a chaotic storm. She rushed to the crib, her movements frantic, and then turned back to glare at me. "How dare you put that amulet on her neck!"

I was stunned by her outburst, my heart pounding in my chest. "Arina, what's wrong with you?" I asked, trying to understand the sudden change in her demeanor.

But Arina didn't respond. She gritted her teeth, her gaze filled with a mix of rage and something else I couldn't quite decipher. Without another word, she spun around and ran upstairs, slamming the door behind her and locking it. I stood there, drenched in sweat, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

I walked over to the crib, lifting my daughter into my arms. She seemed calm, her red eyes now half-closed in sleep. I couldn't shake the feeling that this tiny being was at the center of something far beyond my understanding.

That night, I didn't sleep a wink. I sat by the crib, my mind racing, my eyes glued to the door. Arina's behavior was becoming more erratic, more frightening, and I didn't know how to help her—or if I even could.

After that night, Arina's hostility toward both me and our baby grew. She couldn't tolerate our presence, especially the amulet. She tried repeatedly to remove it from our daughter's neck, but every time she did, something would stop her—whether it was my intervention or some unseen force, I couldn't be sure.