00:00I never liked my stepmother. Maybe that's harsh, but it's the truth. She wasn't cruel,
00:06not in any obvious way. She didn't hit me or scream at me or lock me in the attic like some
00:11fairy tale witch. No, her weapon was subtler than that. She was too nice. Her words syrupy sweet,
00:18her laugh just a fraction too polished, her affection just slightly off-kilter. Like she'd
00:23studied people, copied their warmth, and put it on like a dress that never quite fit. My dad met
00:29her when I was 14, after my mom died. By 15, they were married. By 16, she had taken over the house
00:36in ways I couldn't explain. Tiny, invisible ways. The curtains were replaced, the spices reorganized.
00:43The family photos shifted so her presence seemed bigger than it was. Dad didn't notice. He was
00:49smitten. Grateful even that someone so kind had taken an interest in us. But I noticed. And what
00:56I noticed most of all was her smile. It was wide. Too wide. And when it came, it froze the room around
01:03it. I learned quickly. When my stepmother smiled, something was wrong. The first time I realized it,
01:10I was 16. Dad had been working late, and I came downstairs to find her sitting in the kitchen in
01:16the dark. Just sitting there at the table, no lights, no phone, no book. I thought maybe she was
01:22crying, but when I flipped on the switch, she turned to me and smiled. Wide. Still. Watching me the way a
01:29cat watches a mouse. You should be asleep, sweetheart, she said softly. The word sweetheart hit
01:35the air like a knife. From that night on, I began cataloging the smiles. When the neighbor's dog went
01:41missing, she smiled at me from the porch, humming a tune I didn't know. When dad's car mysteriously
01:47broke down on the highway, she smiled at me through the kitchen window while talking on the phone.
01:51And when I caught her in the basement at 2 in the morning, wiping dirt from her hands,
01:55she smiled at me so wide her teeth gleamed in the dim light. Dad never saw it. He saw her gentle hand
02:02on his arm, the dinners she made, the way she laughed at his stories. He didn't see the stillness
02:07in her eyes, the way her smile froze when he wasn't looking. By 17, I was convinced of two things.
02:14My stepmother wasn't who she said she was. That smile meant danger. The real breaking point came
02:20one autumn evening. Dad had gone on a work trip for the weekend, leaving us alone. It was a Friday,
02:27and the house felt too quiet without him. I stayed upstairs, pretending to study, headphones on. But
02:33then I smelled it. Smoke. Faint. Acrid. My stomach dropped. I ran downstairs. The oven was off, the stove
02:43cold. But in the living room, the fireplace blazed, logs stacked high. And there she was, sitting cross-legged
02:50on the floor, staring into the flames. When I called her name, she turned slowly, her face glowing
02:56orange. And she smiled. Don't worry, she said softly. It's just for warmth. It wasn't cold.
03:04That night, I slept with my door locked. I kept my phone under my pillow. At 2.13 a.m., I woke to the
03:11sound of the doorknob rattling. A slow, deliberate turn. And then, silence. Followed by the faintest whisper
03:19through the crack. Sweetheart. I didn't sleep again until the sun came up. After that, I tried
03:26telling Dad. I told him about the fireplace, about the smiles, about how she looked at me. He laughed,
03:33ruffling my hair. You've been reading too many horror novels, he said. She loves you. Give her a chance.
03:40But he didn't see what I saw. The next week, I found the basement door unlocked. Normally,
03:45she kept it locked tight. Something about dangerous tools, or old wiring. But that day,
03:52it was ajar. My curiosity outweighed my fear. I crept down the stairs. The basement smelled damp,
04:00earthy, like soil. Against the far wall was a stack of wooden boxes, half buried under old tarps.
04:07My stepmother never stored anything down here. She liked the main floor spotless,
04:11every item in its place. But these boxes, they felt wrong. I pulled back a tarp. Beneath it,
04:19dirt clung to the edges of the wood. Fresh dirt. My fingers shook as I pried open the lid.
04:25Inside was, clothing. A dress. Old, torn, muddy. Not hers. Not mine. Smaller. For a child.
04:35I froze. Behind me, a floorboard creaked. When I turned, she was there. Standing at the base of
04:42the stairs. Smiling. My breath caught. Curiosity. She whispered, tilting her head.
04:49It's a dangerous thing, sweetheart. She climbed the steps slowly, never breaking eye contact.
04:56And when she reached the top, she closed the door. Locked it. Left me down there with the boxes and the
05:02shadows. I don't know how long I sat frozen in the dark. Eventually, I worked up the courage to open
05:08another box. And another. What I found. I can hardly bring myself to write. Children's shoes. Ribbons.
05:17A teddy bear with its ear torn off. Items too personal to belong to strangers. Too intimate to
05:23be discarded. By the time she returned hours later, unlocking the door with her usual calm,
05:28I was trembling. She looked down at me. That smile plastered across her face.
05:34See. Nothing to be afraid of, she said gently. Her voice sugar-coated poison. But I knew the truth.
05:41I had seen enough to understand one thing clearly. When my stepmother smiled, something was terribly,
05:47irreversibly wrong. And her smile was growing wider every day. The days after I discovered the boxes were
05:53a blur of fear, silence, and paranoia. I avoided the basement. Avoided her eyes. Avoided being alone
06:00in the same room. But avoiding her in my own house was impossible. She was everywhere. Her perfume
06:06lingering in the hall. Her humming drifting through the walls. Her shadow cast long in the kitchen light.
06:11And always, that smile. It never faded. I began to notice other things too. Dad's shirts disappeared and
06:19reappeared freshly pressed. Even when I knew they hadn't gone to the cleaners. His favorite mug,
06:25once chipped, suddenly whole again. The garden blooming far too quickly. Roses opening in the
06:30dead of autumn. Little things. Impossible things. And each time I noticed, she was nearby, watching me,
06:38lips curled in that wide unnatural grin. I tried to convince myself I was imagining it. That grief over
06:44my mother's death. Teenage hormones, and resentment had twisted my perception. But the night of the
06:50storm destroyed any hope of that lie. It was a Thursday when the thunder rolled in. Dad was away
06:56again. Another work trip. The house shook as lightning cracked outside. Rain hammering the windows. I stayed
07:03in my room. Headphones clamped over my ears. Drowning out the storm with music. At least, that's what I
07:09thought I was doing. At 11.47 PM. The power cut. My music died. The room plunged into darkness. And then,
07:19through the faint glow of lightning, I saw her. Standing in the doorway. Smiling. I froze. My throat locked.
07:27My body screamed to run, but I couldn't. Sweetheart, she whispered. The storm's frightening, isn't it?
07:34I tried to speak, but no words came out. She stepped closer, her silhouette jerking strangely
07:41in the flashes of light. Do you know what storms wash away? Secrets. They bring everything to the
07:47surface. Everything buried. Her words echoed inside me, twisting around the memory of the boxes,
07:54the clothes, the dirt. Then she leaned close, her face inches from mine, smile stretched impossibly wide.
08:01Do you want to see what your father doesn't? Before I could answer, she grabbed my wrist and
08:07yanked me from the bed. Her grip was cold, iron strong. She dragged me through the hallway,
08:12down the stairs, into the basement. My nails scratched against the banister, my breath ragged,
08:18but she didn't loosen her hold. The basement was darker than I remembered. She lit a candle,
08:24its small flame casting grotesque shadows against the walls. Then she walked to the far side,
08:29to the concrete wall I thought was solid. She pressed her hand against one brick, twisted,
08:35and part of the wall groaned open. A hidden door. Behind it, a tunnel. My stomach lurched.
08:42She smiled wider. Come, sweetheart. It's time you learn. She led me down the narrow passage,
08:49the candle flickering in her hand. The walls smelled of damp soil and rot. My bare feet slipped against the
08:56cold stone floor. The tunnel sloped downward, deeper into the earth, until finally it opened
09:01into a cavernous chamber. I can still see it. The walls lined with shelves. Shelves filled with jars.
09:09Inside each jar was something unrecognizable at first. Clumps of hair, fingernails, what looked like
09:15withered skin. Beneath the shelves, piles of small bones, carefully arranged in patterns I didn't
09:21understand. And in the center, a chair. Not just any chair, an old high chair. Rusted. Dried stains
09:29clinging to the wood. I staggered back, bile rising in my throat. What, what is this? I choked.
09:37Her smile never faltered. Family, sweetheart. This is our family. The ones who came before. The ones who
09:45must be remembered. I shook my head violently. These aren't. These are children. Yes, she said
09:53calmly tilting her head. Children are pure. Children see what others can't. They feed the roots. Her voice
10:00was so steady, so matter of fact, that it made my skin crawl. She believed every word. I bolted for
10:07the tunnel, but she was faster. Her hand clamped onto my shoulder, spinning me around. Her eyes were no
10:14longer human. They gleamed in the candlelight. Pupils stretched too wide. Scara darkened to gray.
10:20And her smile. God, that smile. Split her face in a way no jaw should move. You can't leave, sweetheart.
10:28She whispered. You're part of this now. I screamed, clawed at her hand. Kicked until I broke free.
10:34I sprinted down the tunnel, heart slamming in my chest. Behind me, her footsteps echoed, steady,
10:40unhurried, as if she knew I couldn't escape. I reached the stairs, stumbled, slammed the basement
10:46door shut, and locked it. Then I collapsed against it, gasping, my whole body trembling.
10:53For hours, I sat there, waiting for her to bang on the other side, to force her way through.
10:58But the knock never came. The house remained silent, storm raging outside. By dawn, when I finally dared to
11:05open the door, the basement was empty. The wall was solid again, no sign of the hidden passage.
11:11The boxes were gone. Every last one. Had I imagined it? I wanted to believe that. I wanted to dismiss it
11:19as a nightmare. But when Dad came home two days later, suitcase in hand, she greeted him at the
11:25door with that same smile. He kissed her, thanked her for looking after me, and she glanced at me over
11:30his shoulder. Her eyes gleamed. And in that moment I knew. She hadn't hidden the truth. She'd only hidden
11:38me. The weeks that followed blurred into a waking nightmare. I barely ate. I barely slept. Every time
11:45I closed my eyes, I saw the jars, the bones, the high chair. Every time I opened them, she was there.
11:52Watching me, smiling. Dad started asking questions.
11:56Why are you avoiding her? Why do you look so tired? She's trying, honey. She just wants us to be a
12:03family. A family. The word twisted inside me. One night, I tried to run. Packed a bag, stuffed it
12:11with clothes, cash, my phone charger. I crept down the stairs, careful not to wake anyone. But as I
12:18reached for the front door, her voice drifted from the kitchen. Going somewhere, sweetheart? She sat at the
12:24table, candle burning beside her, smile cutting through the shadows. My stomach dropped. Don't run,
12:31she whispered. If you run, they'll chase. And when they catch you, it'll hurt. I dropped the bag.
12:39My hands shook. Why are you doing this? What do you want from me? Her smile widened. I want you to
12:46understand. To carry it forward. To keep the family alive. I shook my head, tears burning my eyes.
12:53You're insane. Her voice dropped, low and sharp. Say what you want. But when the time comes,
13:01you'll smile too. That night, I didn't sleep. I sat awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying every
13:08moment, every smile. And then it happened. At 3.33am, I woke to find her standing at the foot of my bed.
13:15Not moving. Not speaking. Just smiling. I screamed. Dad burst into the room, flipping on the light.
13:24She turned to him, her face shifting instantly to concern. She's having nightmares, she said softly,
13:31placing a hand on his arm. Poor thing. She's not sleeping well. And he believed her. He always
13:38believed her. I knew then that I couldn't rely on him. If I was going to survive, I'd have to face her
13:44alone. The final night came sooner than I expected. It was late. Dad was gone on another trip. I heard
13:51footsteps outside my room. Slow, deliberate. Then the whisper. Sweetheart. I grabbed the baseball bat
13:59from under my bed. My heart pounded, sweat dripping down my neck. I opened the door. She was waiting in
14:06the hallway, candle in hand. Come, she said softly. It's time. I wanted to run. Every instinct screamed
14:15at me to run. But something deeper, darker, pulled me forward. Maybe it was curiosity. Maybe it was
14:22inevitability. Maybe it was the way her smile hooked into my veins. I followed her down the stairs,
14:29through the basement, to the wall. She pressed the brick. The hidden door groaned open. The tunnel
14:35yawned before us. And as I stepped inside, candlelight flickering against the walls, I realized the truth.
14:42This wasn't her secret anymore. It was mine too. And when she turned to me, her smile impossibly wide,
14:48I felt my lips begin to curl in response.
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