Chapter 8: The Final Command

Uncle Frank stared at the woman’s corpse for a long time, then waved me over and patted my head kindly. He beckoned me closer with a look that tried to be gentle, but the worry in his eyes betrayed him. His rough hand ruffled my hair, a gesture I barely remembered from childhood.

“Marcus has grown up. It’s time for you to shoulder responsibilities.”

His words sounded almost like a blessing, but I knew better. I shrank back, uneasy, my mind racing with dread.

My pupils shrank and I instinctively tried to back away, but Uncle Frank’s grip was too strong—I couldn’t move. He squeezed my shoulder, knuckles white, keeping me rooted in place. I looked down, feeling small and trapped.

He squinted at me and said, “Marcus, in a bit, carry this woman to your room. Tonight, sleep with her body under your bed. Only this way can you resolve the crisis and save your entire family.”

His voice was low, almost hypnotic. I felt the room spin around me. It sounded like one of those ghost stories folks whispered on dark winter nights, not real life. My skin crawled at the thought.

I was terrified and shook my head desperately. The words barely left my lips, but the panic in my chest screamed for me. My legs felt like jelly. I backed against the wall, searching for an escape.

Did Uncle Frank even realize what he was saying? Put a corpse under my bed? It sounded insane. I looked around, hoping someone else would object, but all I saw were blank, expectant faces.

Sensing my resistance, Uncle Frank softened his tone: He knelt down, his voice taking on a coaxing note. “It’s just one night, Marcus. Sometimes, you have to do hard things for your family.”

“Don’t worry. Pure-hearted energy keeps ghosts away. You haven’t slept with a woman yet, so this thing can’t harm you.”

He sounded almost fatherly, as if this were an ordinary rite of passage. I clenched my fists, wishing I could disappear.

Seeing I was still unwilling, my mother rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a meat cleaver, and brandished it at me, cursing: She stomped back, wild-eyed, waving the heavy knife above her head. Her words were spitfire, every syllable a threat. The blade glinted in the morning light, and I froze.

“You think you have a choice? I’m telling you, if you don’t do as your Uncle Frank says, I’ll kill you myself!”

Her voice echoed through the house, cold and final. The threat was real—I’d seen her angry before, but never like this.

Uncle Frank looked calmly at my mother, then turned to me. He nodded, not a flicker of emotion on his face. The message was clear: this was the only way.

“Well? Are you willing now?”

His eyes pinned me in place, demanding an answer. I glanced from him to Momma, the knife still trembling in her grip.

I met Uncle Frank’s eyes, searching for any mercy, but found nothing but cold resolve. The house seemed to close in around me, and I knew—tonight, there’d be no sleep. I swallowed hard, a cold sweat breaking out across my back. My voice caught in my throat, but I forced myself to nod, knowing there was no other choice.