The Sisters Nightmare

CHAPTER ONE: The house was quiet, but it wasn't peaceful. Mrs. Janny knew the difference now. Silence could be comforting, like a soft blanket after a long day, but this silence pressed against her chest, heavy and unyielding. It felt like something waiting to be said that never would be. She sat in the living room, her back slightly curved into the cushions of an aging sofa, her fingers loosely interlocked in her lap. The faint glow of the lamp beside her cast a warm light across her face, though it did nothing to soften the storm gathering behind her eyes. Six children. Six beautiful girls. And now… no husband. Her lips parted slightly as if she were about to speak, but only a quiet breath escaped her. How did it come to this? Her mind drifted, retracing the last four years like a painful loop she couldn’t escape. He had always had a reason to leave. “Duty,” he would say. “Posting,” he would explain. “Just a few weeks,” he would promise. And she had believed him because she wanted to believe him. Because love, when stretched thin, still tries to hold. Her gaze dropped to the floor. “My girls…” she whispered, her voice fragile and almost unfamiliar to her own ears. “They’re going to grow up without their father.” Then, more bitterly, she wondered, “And for what?” Her jaw tightened. What kind of man walks away from six daughters? The question lingered in the air, unanswered, as it had always been. She leaned back and closed her eyes, trying to quiet the ache building inside her. But thoughts don’t obey commands—not when they’ve been waiting this long to be heard. A soft sound finally broke the stillness. “Mummy…” Mrs. Janny opened her eyes to see Noa standing at the entrance of the living room. She looked small and delicate, her hair messy from sleep and her tiny fingers clutching the edge of her nightdress. Mrs. Janny’s expression softened immediately. “Noa, sweetheart… what’s wrong?” The little girl hesitated before walking closer, her bare feet making soft taps against the tiled floor. “I… I can’t sleep,” she said, her voice trembling. “I keep having this strange feeling… like someone is going to come into my dream and hurt me.” Mrs. Janny’s heart tightened. Children often feared shadows, but this sounded deeper than a simple fear of the dark. She opened her arms gently. “Come here.” Noa moved quickly into her mother’s embrace, climbing onto her lap until her small body fit perfectly. Mrs. Janny stroked her hair slowly. “There’s nothing coming for you,” she said softly. “Not in your dreams, and not in this house.” “But it feels real,” Noa whispered. “I know. Feelings can be strong, even when they’re not true.” She tilted Noa’s chin up slightly. “Listen to me… you are safe. I’m here. Your sisters are here. Nothing is going to hurt you.” Noa searched her mother’s face, trying to measure the truth of her words. “Promise?” Mrs. Janny smiled faintly, though her eyes carried a deeper weight. “I promise.” Before Noa could respond, a sudden clatter echoed from the kitchen. Both of them turned. Mrs. Janny sighed. “Your little sisters…” She carefully lifted Noa off her lap and walked toward the noise. There, in the dim light, were the twins—Thea and Calista. They were sitting on the floor surrounded by crumbs, giggling as they clutched half-open snack packets. Their tiny hands were moving faster than their coordination allowed; half the food was on the floor, and the other half barely made it to their mouths. Mrs. Janny stopped, hands resting on her hips. “I thought I told your big sisters to watch over you,” she said, her voice calm but firm. The twins simply looked up and laughed, completely unbothered. She exhaled slowly. “Alright… let’s clean this up.” As she gathered the mess, her thoughts drifted toward the closed door down the hallway where the older girls were. Joy, Luna, and Aurelia—each of them carrying their own world. She wiped her hands and made her way toward their room. Inside, the atmosphere was entirely different. Joy lay curled on her bed, her face relaxed in sleep, though faint traces of tension remained as if rest couldn't fully free her. Joy had loved before—too quickly and too deeply—and she had been left picking up the pieces too often. She had stopped believing in promises, especially from men. “Love is just another way people lie,” she once said. Mrs. Janny had heard it, and it had broken her heart. Aurelia slept more peacefully, her posture straight even in rest. Discipline had shaped her into someone who never truly let go, and her dedication to martial arts gave her structure and control. But even she wasn’t immune to a quiet longing for someone she never spoke about, held back by the fear of not being enough. And then there was Luna. She sat by the window with her phone pressed to her ear, her voice animated but low. “No, you don’t understand,” she was saying. “It’s different here… everything feels… complicated.” She paused, then offered a soft laugh. “Yeah… I miss you too.” Mrs. Janny stood at the doorway, unnoticed for a moment. Luna lived in a world filled with the constant need to feel wanted. She wasn’t careless; she was just searching for something she didn’t yet understand. Mrs. Janny stepped forward. “Luna.” The girl turned quickly, startled. “Mum—” “I asked you to watch your sisters.” The tone wasn’t loud, but it carried weight. Luna glanced away. “I was just on a call—” “That doesn’t matter,” Mrs. Janny interrupted gently. “They’re your responsibility too.” Joy stirred awake. “Mom… I’m sorry,” she said, sitting up. “It won’t happen again.” Mrs. Janny looked at her, her expression softening. “I know, sweetheart.” Her gaze moved between them. “You all need to understand… I can’t do this alone.” There was a quiet pause, and even Luna lowered her eyes. Mrs. Janny sighed. “Just… try to do better.” She turned and left the room, closing the door softly. Back in the living room, she sank into her chair once more. The house returned to silence, but now it felt heavier. Her eyes lingered on nothing in particular until a thought settled deep within her. “I think… I need to go see my parents.” It wasn't an escape; it was a beginning. Morning came gently, as if it were unsure how to enter a home weighed down by unspoken truths. Sunlight filtered through the curtains in thin, golden lines, stretching across the living room floor where Mrs. Janny had eventually fallen asleep. Her neck ached as she stirred, blinking into the quiet brightness. For a brief moment, she forgot. But then reality returned—soft, but firm. She sat up and exhaled deeply. Today wouldn’t wait for her to be ready. From down the hallway, the faint sounds of movement began—doors opening, footsteps, whispers. Life was continuing. She stood and made her way toward the kitchen, tying her robe loosely around her waist. By the time she reached the doorway, Joy was already there. “Morning, Mom,” Joy said gently, pouring water into a kettle. Mrs. Janny watched her for a moment. There was something different about Joy lately—not just sadness, but a new kind of awareness. “Morning,” she replied. A pause lingered between them until Joy spoke again. “Did you sleep okay?” Mrs. Janny gave a small, knowing smile. “Not really.” Joy nodded. “Yeah… me neither.” Their eyes met briefly, and in that moment, there was a quiet but powerful understanding. Joy turned back to the kettle. “I’ve just been thinking… about things.” “What kind of things?” Joy hesitated. “About why people leave. Why they say they love you… and then act like you never mattered.” Mrs. Janny felt the words land deeply. “Not everyone who leaves stops loving,” she said softly. Joy shook her head slightly. “It feels like they do.” There was no easy answer, so Mrs. Janny didn’t try to give one. Instead, she stepped closer and placed a hand on Joy’s shoulder. “You’re allowed to feel hurt. Just don’t let it turn you into someone who stops believing completely.” Joy didn’t respond immediately, but she didn’t pull away either. And that was something. From the hallway, Luna’s voice echoed as she spoke into her phone again—quieter this time, and more thoughtful. “…I just wish things were simpler,” she was saying. “No… I don’t think you understand what it’s like here.” Her tone wasn’t playful anymore; it was real. Aurelia passed by silently, dressed for training. Her expression was focused, but her eyes were thoughtful. Everyone was carrying something, even if they didn’t say it out loud. Mrs. Janny watched her daughters move through the morning, each in their own rhythm, each shaped by the same absence in different ways. And for the first time, she understood something clearly. This wasn’t just about survival anymore; it was about healing for all of them. She took a slow breath. “I’ll go see my parents,” she said quietly to herself again. But this time, it wasn’t just a thought. It was a decision. And perhaps, it was the first step toward something better.