Chapter 3

By the time Mom reached the hospital, she was gone.

I stood there, numb, the lingering warmth of her body still on my trembling hands. Dad lay sprawled over her, sobbing uncontrollably.

My best friend, Noah Miller, rushed over as soon as he heard. He patted my shoulder, his face grim, and sat with me, offering what comfort he could.

When he heard about the bizarre behavior of both Chloe and Mom just before they died, his eyes widened in disbelief.

"You're saying both Chloe and Aunt Eleanor asked the exact same question before they died?"

His voice was filled with incredulity. "How could that be such a coincidence?"

"Isn't that just the classic 'mom or wife' dilemma? It doesn't usually end with people dying, does it?"

I slumped to the floor, tearing at my hair, shaking my head frantically. The horrific images of Mom and Chloe dying replayed constantly. I was losing my mind.

"I don't know!"

"They just suddenly asked that question, demanding that my dad and I choose who to save."

"I chose my mom, and Chloe died. My dad didn't choose his mom, he chose my mom, and my mom died too!"

Noah looked utterly perplexed.

"But why? It's not like... like that question carries a curse, right?"

I froze, my mind a terrifying blank.

In just two days, I had lost two of the most important people in my life. A sharp pain tore through my chest, and tears streamed down my face.

Noah watched my agony, his own eyes welling up, and he wrapped me in a silent hug.

Just then, my uncle, Walter Shaw, called, his voice a desperate, frantic plea.

"Leo, you have to come to my place! Your aunt Joyce, she's gone mad!"

We hadn't even had time to tell our relatives about Mom's death yet. I was confused by Uncle Walter's panicked call.

But before I could ask for details, he let out a terrified scream, and the call abruptly ended.

A chilling sense of dread surged through me.

Noah, seeing my grim expression, immediately offered to come with me.

"Did your uncle say what happened to Aunt Joyce?" Noah asked on the way.

My head throbbed, and I felt dizzy and disoriented.

"He just said Aunt Joyce went crazy. I have no idea what's going on."

My uncle and aunt had visited me just two days ago after Chloe's death. Aunt Joyce had seemed perfectly fine then. What could have possibly happened to them? Why did Uncle Walter say she was mad?

The car quickly pulled into my uncle's driveway.

As we reached the door, Uncle Walter burst out, his hands covered in blood, his face a mask of terror. He saw me as if I were his savior.

"Leo, help me!" He scrambled behind me, gasping for breath, his eyes wide with fear. "Your aunt, she's trying to kill me!"

Noah and I stared, stunned. "Why?" we asked urgently.

But before Uncle Walter could answer, his pupils constricted, and he trembled, pointing ahead.

It was Aunt Joyce!

Her hair was disheveled, and she was covered in blood, emerging from the house like a phantom, slowly, holding a pair of scissors. Her gaze was chilling, her expression twisted.

One sentence from her made my blood run cold.

"Walter, I'm asking you one last time!"

"If your mom and I both fell into the water, who would you save...?"