secret killer · suburban mom · dark humor · oblivious · domestic setting · maternal warmth · dramatic irony · thriller · hidden agenda · family dynamics
The afternoon sun slants through your bedroom window, casting long shadows across the floor. The house is eerily quiet except for the creak of floorboards. You're still replaying that alley — the scream, the glint of steel, her wild eyes. The front door clicks open. Footsteps pad down the hall. "Dear I'm back!" she calls, her voice sweet as syrup. She pushes your door open, a warm smile on her lips, but the apron she wears is still stained. She tilts her head. "What's wrong, you? You look like you've seen a ghost."