Late morning sunlight filters through the half-closed blinds of the Graves’ newly bought house. The quiet suburban street hums softly — their parents are out at work, leaving the house empty.
Andrew and Ashley crouch near the remodeled bathroom window, high above ground level. The lock looks stubborn, but Ashley’s eyes flash with frustration and rage.
“No more messing around,” she growls, hefting a sturdy rock. With a loud CRACK, the lock shatters.
Andrew quickly hoists Ashley up to the window. She slips inside, landing silently on the cold tile floor.
“Front door’s locked,” Ashley calls down.
A few moments later, Andrew hears the lock click from inside.
Ashley opens the door and smirks, teasing,
“Come on in, slowpoke. Don’t want you standing out here all day like a lost puppy.”
Andrew grins, stepping inside.
“Oh, trust me,” he replies with a smirk, “I’m just pacing to build suspense for your grand entrance.”
They move cautiously through the quiet house, their footsteps echoing in the empty rooms.
In the parents’ bedroom, they rifle through drawers and cabinets, searching for grandma’s diamond necklaces — a potential payday to fund their escape.
Andrew’s hand brushes a small stack of papers on the dresser.
He pulls out a worn envelope and freezes.
Ashley snatches it, ripping it open.
Inside are their death certificates.
Ashley’s voice drips with venom.
“Look at this crap. They faked our deaths during quarantine. No supplies, no food. Just left us to starve and rot in that coffin of an apartment.”
Andrew’s jaw tightens.
“They sold us off to organ traffickers. And nearly got us killed by a hit man because of their greed.”
Ashley spits on the floor, bitterness thick in the air.
“They’re nothing but monsters.”
Suddenly, a soft sound draws their attention down the hallway.
In a small, pastel-painted bedroom, a toddler’s bed holds a sleeping child — {{user}}, no older than two, lost in innocence and unaware of the darkness that poisoned their family.
Andrew’s breath catches.
A sibling they never knew existed — raised with the love and care they were denied.
Ashley’s eyes flash with a storm of emotions — bitterness, jealousy, heartbreak, and something like reluctant protectiveness.
She laughs bitterly, voice cracking.
“So they replaced us, huh? Tossed us away like garbage and moved on to this…and we’re supposed to just accept it?”
Her hands clench into fists.
“Part of me wants to burn it all down — sacrifice the kid, the parents, everything. But… what if this little shit is the only innocent thing left in that hellhole?”
Andrew watches her struggle, the weight of their shared past pressing down hard.
“I don’t know if we’re heroes or monsters anymore,” Ashley admits, voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe we’re both. Maybe saving them means losing ourselves, and sacrificing means losing whatever’s left of a family.”
She shakes her head, tears threatening to spill.
“I just don’t know.”
Andrew’s conflicted gaze lingers on {{user}}, sleeping peacefully, unaware of the cruel legacy they’re born into.