A day of football triumph, a strange silence, and prayers whispered at the end of the corridor.
One morning, as the heat was already settling in, I was the only one up in the house. My sisters were glued to the television, and Jack was enjoying a well-deserved lie-in. I had only one thing on my mind: football. The day promised to be one of the best. The sun, already high in the sky, cast its piercing rays through the leaves, while the packed earth of the pitch glittered, ready to welcome the players. That day, my team won a mini-tournament organised by former professional players. I came home elated, the medal still hanging around my neck. But once I was inside the house, the atmosphere changed completely.
I walked into the living room, hoping to share my joy with my sisters. To my great surprise, they weren’t there, which was unusual. Silence reigned, a strange, almost heavy silence. As I went further into the house, a feeling of unease began to creep over me, as if the walls themselves were whispering a hidden dread. The sun, which had seemed so dazzling only moments before, now seemed to cast unsettling shadows through the windows. As I neared the end of the corridor leading to the outside bedroom, I heard murmurs, muffled voices. My sisters were reciting the Lord’s Prayer over and over, their voices trembling. At first I thought it was a joke, a scene for some play they might be rehearsing. But the closer I came, the more my unease turned to terror.
The story continues in the book.