Shelves.
Boxes.
Folders.
And… photographs.
Photos of my house—but taken from inside, from angles I had never seen.
Photos of my bedroom.
My bed.
Photos of me.
While I slept.
My stomach twisted.
This wasn’t just a “strange brother.”
It was someone watching me.
Someone drugging me.
Someone entering while I was defenseless.
My hand trembled so badly the flashlight flickered.
On the table inside the room was an open folder. I read the title:
“PROPERTY — INHERITANCE — DOCUMENTS”
And below it, a paper with my full name.
My name.
With a blank space for a signature.
I heard Daniel speaking, closer now.
“We need to finish before she starts suspecting.”
Another voice answered. Deep. Not from the house.
“What if she refuses to sign?”
Daniel laughed quietly.
“She’ll sign in her sleep. Just like Mom did.”
My blood froze.
I covered my mouth so I wouldn’t make a sound.
Mom.
Which meant… she didn’t just die.
Suddenly the metal door creaked.
It was opening from the inside.
I stepped back into the darkness and stumbled against the stairs.
The flashlight went out.
Total darkness.
I pressed myself against the wall as the door opened and a stripe of yellow light spilled into the corridor.
Daniel’s shadow stepped out.
And behind him, another man.
Daniel stopped.
“Who’s there?” he asked.
That wasn’t my brother’s voice.
It was the voice of someone ready to do something terrible.
In that moment, something saved me:
My phone vibrated.
Alarm.
The alarm I had set before doing this:
“LEAVE. NOW.”
The vibration made a faint sound.
Daniel’s head turned.
He saw me.
“Ah…” he whispered. “You didn’t drink it.”
He stepped closer.
I stepped back.
Until my back hit the wall.
“Sister… you didn’t have to make this difficult.”
The other man said:
“Let’s go. We don’t have time.”
Daniel smiled slowly.
“Oh, we still do. She always falls asleep.”
In that moment, I ran.
I threw my phone on the floor to make noise and sprinted up the passage.
I heard him shouting behind me.
“GET HER!”
I reached the panel in my bedroom, crawled out, closed it, and pushed the wardrobe against the wall.
Not enough.
I heard him knocking at the door.
“Open up,” he said softly. “Don’t make a scene.”
I grabbed my phone and dialed 911.
The operator answered.
“Emergency services, what is your situation?”
But before I could speak, I heard Daniel’s voice on the other side of the door:
“If you call… you’ll end up like Mom.”
Then I remembered something our neighbor, Aling Amalia, once told me:
“If you hear banging in your house… don’t lock yourself in. Run outside. Houses have ears.”
I looked at the window.
I opened it.
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