THE NIGHT THE FLOORBOARD CRACKED.
The Diary of Silence Chapter Thirty-Two — The Night the Floorboard Cracked The house slept lightly that night. Not peacefully. Just quietly. Amara lay awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling where faint lines of moonlight slipped through the curtain. The room felt unusually still, but inside her mind everything moved too fast. The diary. The copied pages. Her cousin’s confession. The memory of her father’s name written in the uncle’s cold handwriting. Sleep refused to come. Across the room, her cousin sat at the desk pretending to read, though he had been on the same page for nearly twenty minutes. Finally Amara whispered, “You’re not sleeping either?” He shook his head. “No.” The television downstairs had turned off about an hour earlier. Their uncle had gone to bed. At
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