Another Mother

"Mom!" I screamed, spinning around so fast the chair screeched against the floor. My heart hammered wildly, feeling like it would burst from my chest. "Why are you in here?"

Christine stood there, expressionless. Her eyes seemed to absorb all the light, turning into two black voids. "Kelly, what are you listening to?" she asked, her tone flat and completely void of emotion.

An icy chill shot down my spine. I slammed the laptop shut, pressing down hard on the lid. "Nothing, Mom! Just... just listening to some old songs. Trying to relax." I forced a smile, trying desperately to act natural and hide the terror churning inside me.

A flicker of emotion crossed Christine's face, softening briefly. Her eyes seemed to redden, welling up with tears. She sighed deeply, a low, sorrowful sound, before turning and slowly walking out of the room.

"I'm going to check on Cedric," she murmured, her voice filled with that familiar grief. "He hasn't eaten all day."

I watched her go, my eyes glued to her retreating back. Her posture seemed to sway, her shoulders slumping further, her steps unnaturally light, almost as if she had no bones.

A horrifying thought, a grotesque image, suddenly struck me: her body, her very form, seemed to ripple gently like disturbed water. She was so thin, so gaunt, her clothes hanging off her, making her appear ethereal and fragile.

This wasn't the mother I knew, at least not entirely. The contradiction terrified me.

My heart raced.

It's not her. Annabelle's voice echoed in my head. She's not real.

When Christine reached the end of the hallway, she stopped, her back still to me.

Her body seemed to grow, to stretch, her shoulders broadening, her spine extending upward. Her limbs thinned out, becoming impossibly long. Then, she slowly turned her head, her face still mostly hidden in shadow. But her smile... it was unnaturally bright, curving upward far beyond what any human was capable of, revealing a mouthful of impossibly sharp teeth.

"Kelly, don't you love your mother?" she hissed, her voice low and raspy, echoing through the silent house.

I froze, my body rigid with terror. I couldn't breathe, couldn't move, my vocal cords paralyzed. The sight before me was inconceivable, absolute horror.

"Kelly! What's wrong?!" Cedric's voice, laced with panic, pierced the silence. He stood in his doorway, his eyes wide.

The terrifying figure vanished. My grief-stricken, fragile mother, Christine, suddenly stood in the hallway, looking at Cedric with deep concern.

"Kelly is just a little on edge, honey," she said in that gentle, loving voice again. "She's just under too much stress."

My mind was a chaotic mess.

How could she vanish and reappear? How could Cedric not have seen her?

I wanted to scream, to point at her, but the words caught in my throat. It was all too impossible.

Christine walked toward me, gently cupping my face in her hands. "You're so pale, sweetheart. Let Mom take care of you." She brushed her thumb lightly across my cheek, a familiar, reassuring gesture. "We have to be strong right now. For Annabelle." Her eyes were filled with tears, grief radiating from her very pores.

But just then, she moved, and her sleeve slipped up slightly.

In that split second, I saw it.

It wasn't burned skin, but just below her forearm, where it should have been smooth, there was something. A subtle ripple, a shimmering distortion, as if her skin were merely a thin veil hiding something fluid and transient beneath. It vanished instantly, covered up by her sleeve.

"Kelly, are you feeling okay?" Christine asked, her voice brimming with concern. Her smile was too bright, too stiff.

A chill ran down my spine. Unable to speak, I forced a nod.

Her smile widened, morphing into a grotesque, sinister grin. She leaned in close, her breath carrying a strange, sweet, metallic scent. "Sweetheart, do you want to join Annabelle and Cedric?"

Her hand gripped my arm tighter and tighter, with a force that was impossibly strong. Her fingers dug into my flesh like talons. I struggled desperately, but I was powerless against her; her strength was inhuman.

"Let me go! Please!" I screamed, tears bursting from my eyes.

She dragged me along. Her touch burned, her grip unbreakable. I kicked, I fought, my nails tearing at her skin, but it was utterly futile.

"Cedric! Help me!" I shrieked, my voice hoarse.

Cedric stood frozen in the hallway, eyes wide open, staring blankly ahead, completely oblivious to what was happening right in front of him. He looked dazed, lost, not even blinking.

Christine dragged me right past him, down the hallway, and into the living room. The ottoman sat quietly in the center of the room, as if waiting for something.

The same ottoman. The same horrific space where Annabelle's body was found.

I fought with everything I had, but she held me tight. The image of Annabelle's contorted corpse flooded my mind.

I was next.

She forced me to the ground, my back slamming hard against the solid floor. The lid of the ottoman was open like a gaping, bloody maw. She shoved me in, folding me up, my body emitting a sickening crack as my bones protested.

A sharp, intense pain struck, radiating through my ribs. I gasped desperately, my lungs crushed and unable to take in air. My vision began to blur. Darkness began to encroach.

I was suffocating. I was going to die. Just like Annabelle.