Chapter 13*The Diary's Damning Line *
881 Words
*UNKNOWN SECRET - CHAPTER 13: The Diary's Damning Line
Lila’s fingers trembled.
The old diary felt cold.
Too cold for a book left in the sun.
Dust fell like snow.
She coughed once.
The attic air tasted like secrets.
Her eyes scanned the yellowed page.
Ink faded. But the words?
They burned.
"Mark Hale killed my brother."
Her breath stopped.
Just... stopped.
The world tilted.
Mark Hale?
Mark?
The man who brought soup when she was sick?
The man who called her "cousin" with a soft smile?
No.
This had to be a mistake.
Aunt was old. Confused before she died.
Right?
Her heart hammered against her ribs.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Loud enough to wake the dead.
The house went silent.
Not normal silent.
Dead silent.
Like someone pressed pause on the world.
Even the old wall clock stopped.
Tick... tick... tick...
Then nothing.
Lila’s skin prickled.
Goosebumps rose on her arms.
Someone was watching her.
She knew it.
She felt it.
Footsteps.
Upstairs.
Above her head.
Heavy boots on old wood.
Creak...
Creak...
Creak...
Each step came closer.
Down the stairs.
One by one.
Deliberate. Patient.
Lila’s mouth went dry.
She tried to swallow.
No spit left.
The diary felt heavy now.
Like it weighed 100 kilos.
Like it held a curse.
She should run.
She should hide.
She should burn this book.
But her hands wouldn’t move.
Frozen.
Trapped by the truth.
The footsteps stopped.
Right outside the attic door.
She could hear breathing now.
Slow. Measured. Controlled.
Lila slammed the diary shut!
The sound cracked through the silence like a gunshot.
Dust exploded into the air.
Too late.
Way too late.
"Find something interesting, cousin?"
Mark’s voice.
Right behind her.
Close enough that she felt his breath on her neck.
She didn’t turn.
Couldn’t turn.
If she turned, he’d see her fear.
And fear was death in this house.
"Mark..." Her voice shook.
Weak. Like a child’s.
"I... I was just looking for photos."
"Liar."
The word wasn’t loud.
But it cut deeper than a scream.
Cold fingers touched her shoulder.
Lila flinched.
Every muscle in her body screamed RUN.
Slowly, she turned.
Mark stood there.
Backlit by the hallway light.
His face half in shadow.
He smiled.
Wide. Perfect.
The same smile from Aunt’s funeral.
But his eyes...
God, his eyes.
They weren’t smiling.
They were empty. Black. Dead.
Like a doll’s eyes.
Like a killer’s eyes.
"Aunt never told you the whole truth," he whispered.
His voice was soft now. Gentle.
That was worse.
Much worse.
He took one step forward.
Then another.
Until he stood right in front of her.
"She was protecting you, Lila."
His hand reached out.
Long fingers. Clean nails.
A gentleman’s hand.
He reached for the diary.
His fingers brushed hers.
Ice cold. Like touching a corpse.
Lila’s blood turned to ice water.
Her heart stopped beating.
For one terrifying second, she was sure she was dead already.
Mark’s grip tightened on the diary.
He pulled.
She didn’t let go.
Not yet.
Their eyes locked.
His were dead.
Hers were wide with terror.
"Let go, cousin," he said softly.
"Or I’ll make you."
The last word hung in the air.
A promise.
A threat.
A death sentence.
Lila’s heart started beating again.
Fast. Panicked.
Would he kill her too?
---
Lila’s fingers trembled.
The old diary felt like ice.
Not just cold. Dead cold.
Dust fell from the leather cover.
She coughed once.
The attic air tasted like secrets and regret.
Aunt’s handwriting filled the page.
Shaky. Desperate. Like she wrote it while running.
"Mark Hale killed my brother."
The words blurred.
Lila blinked hard.
No. She wasn’t seeing things.
Mark Hale.
The man who sent flowers to Aunt’s funeral.
The man who brought her soup when she had fever.
The man who called her "little cousin" and ruffled her hair.
Her stomach twisted.
Nausea rose in her throat.
This couldn’t be real.
It had to be a mistake.
Aunt was old. Confused in her last days.
Dementia made people say crazy things.
Right?
Lila’s hands shook harder.
The diary slipped.
She caught it against her chest like it would bite her.
The house went silent.
Not peaceful silent.
Dangerous silent.
Like the moment before a storm.
Even the wall clock stopped.
Tick... tick... tick...
Then nothing.
Dead air.
Goosebumps exploded on her arms.
Someone was watching her.
She knew it in her bones.
Footsteps.
Upstairs.
Heavy. Deliberate.
Creak...
Creak...
Creak...
Each step came down the wooden stairs.
Slow. Patient. Hunting.
Lila’s mouth went dry.
She tried to swallow.
No saliva. Her tongue stuck to her teeth.
The diary felt heavier now.
Like it held a curse inside.
Like the words would jump off the page and choke her.
She should run.
She should hide the diary.
She should burn it and pretend she never saw.
But her feet were nailed to the floor.
Her eyes were glued to the words.
"Mark Hale killed my brother."
The footsteps stopped.
Right outside the attic door.
She could hear breathing now.
Slow. Controlled. Not rushed.
Like a predator that knew its prey had nowhere to run.
Lila slammed the diary shut!
The c***k echoed through the attic like a gunshot.
Dust exploded in a cloud around her.
Too late.
Way too late.
---
- Writer
