“Have you stopped to think who exactly the father is?” Vee went on, her eyes desperate.
Sylvia grew a little pale. “That’s not important. What’s important is the child.”
Vee let out a loud, manic laugh as she stood, too, facing off with Sylvia. “If you two plan on raising this baby as your own, you’ll only be half lying.”
Sylvia paled further, her face dropping as she looked to her husband. She didn’t say anything. She just turned back to Vee and smacked her right across the face. “You’re a vicious little liar.”
Vee clutched her cheek, staring at her mother in shock. “I’m not lying. You’re just wilfully blind.”
“You’d do anything to ruin this family,” Sylvia said. “That’s what this pregnancy is all about. You were trying to bring shame on us. Well, I won’t let you do any more damage.”
With that, she stormed out of the room, leaving Vee alone with her father. A brick sank in my gut. He stared at her from where he stood by the fireplace, his eyes devoid of warmth or any hint of a soul.
He moved toward her silently, and Vee seemed to curl in on herself, clearly both sickened and frightened to even be in the same room as him. Victor effortlessly grabbed a hold of her neck and pushed her back down onto the sofa. He hovered over her threateningly, and I shook in fear. He was going to strangle her.
When he spoke, his voice was low and sinister, “If you ever try to tell your mother the truth again, I’ll kill you myself.”
Vee lifted her head, eyeing him with disgust. “Rapist,” she spat at him.
A vein bulged in his neck as her saliva dripped down his face, and he threw her to the floor. Tears filled my eyes as I watched, unable to intervene.
The scene shifted. The next time I came to, I was in the attic. I hated this place. Vee was heavily pregnant and so young; her belly was huge under her nightgown as she screamed and cried and pounded on the door. “Let me out of here! Let me out! I’m going to kill myself and this baby if you don’t let me out, Goddammit! You’ve kept me locked in here for long enough!”
“Settle down,” came Sylvia’s placid voice from the other side. “This is for your own good.”
Vee wailed and pressed her head to the door, sobs wracking her body. Then, she quieted, looking down at the floor where there was a puddle of liquid at her feet. “Oh my God,” she said, hand going to her mouth. “It’s happening.”
“What’s wrong now?” Sylvia’s muffled voice asked.
It took Vee a long moment to answer, then finally, she said, “My water broke.”
Just like that, the door flew open. Sylvia entered, guiding Vee over to the bed and instructing her to lie down. She left and returned with towels and a basin of water.
She was going to make her give birth here in this dank, dirty place?
Suddenly, I realised who had made those nail marks on the wall. It wasn’t Noah’s great-grandmother. It was Vee. Vee was Noah’s mother, and she’d birthed him right here in this room. He was a child of incest, and the family had kept it a secret all these years.
Oh no, here came the darkness again.
Now I was downstairs in the foyer. A little boy ran into the house holding a stick and proceeded to rattle it along the banister. I knew it was Noah just by looking at him. He was a beautiful child. You’d never guess the evil act he’d been born from.
“What’s all this racket you little brat?” a voice boomed, and Victor came barrelling down the stairs. He snatched the stick from Noah’s hand, snapped it in half and yanked him roughly by the arm. I followed as he marched him down the hall to the tiny bedroom where I used to sleep, flinging him inside.
“You stay in here and be quiet. I don’t want to hear another sound,” Victor seethed, giving Noah a violent shove onto the floor before slamming the door shut. Forlorn, Noah crawled up onto the narrow bed, wrapped his arms around his knees and cried. It broke my heart to see him. I wished to reach out and pull him into a hug, whisk him away from this horrible place.
A few moments later, the door opened, and Vee crept in. Noah’s eyes rose to hers as she lifted her finger to her mouth, indicating for him to be silent. She looked about twenty now, pale and willowy, haunted but not yet as haunted as the woman I knew.
She sat on the bed next to Noah and pulled him into her arms, hugging him tight. “I’m sorry he’s so mean,” she whispered into his hair. “I won’t let him get to you again.”