Page 23 of The House That Held Her

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I t was night when everything changed in Hawthorn House. George returned home, his father's absence providing the opportunity.

The house lay cloaked in darkness, the only sound the creaking of old floorboards under his careful steps. George moved with purpose, his eyes fixed on the dim hallway. Dot's room was at the end, on the second floor. He ascended the stairs, the old wood groaning beneath his weight, each step deliberate and heavy. He reached her room and peered in to find her sprawled on the bed with a bottle of gin tipped over, soaking her nightgown. The acid smell of alcohol filled the room.

George called her name, voice echoing down the narrow hall, loud enough to break her drunken stupor.

Dot rose slowly, her eyes unfocused, and staggered toward the staircase, her limbs moving like those of a marionette with cut strings. George slipped away into Amelia's old room, hidden in the shadows, as Dot stumbled closer. She moved like an apparition, her face hollow and devoid of expression, her clothes clinging damply to her body. She reached the stairs, taking her first faltering step downward.

George emerged from the darkened room, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. "Amelia was the only good thing to come from this family, and you took her from this world." His words echoed, hard and final. Dot turned, her glazed eyes meeting his, recognition flickering for a split second.

There was no time for more. George lunged, and his foot met her chest. Dot fell, tumbling down the staircase, her body colliding with the wooden steps, each impact punctuated by the sharp crack of breaking bones. Her screams were fleeting, swallowed by the viciousness of the descent, until she finally lay motionless at the bottom.

George stood at the top of the stairs, expression unreadable, waiting. Below, Dot's body shuddered, her breaths wet and labored. Blood pooled around her head, and she mumbled, her words a jumble of sounds that never entirely formed. He walked down the stairs and watched unflinchingly as her movements slowed and her eyes lost focus.

When the last flicker of life had faded, he turned away, stepping over her crumpled form without another glance. The door swung open, the night air spilling in as George walked out, leaving only silence behind him.