Behind his father's closed bedroom door, Ike hears him standing up to invisible forces.
His voice trembled with anger and despair, a heartbreaking blend of fear and defiance. A brief silence followed, stretching the moment into unbearable tension, then his voice rose again, louder, filled with desperate fury:
“Leave Régine alone, I will never sacrifice her!”
Those words, spoken with desperate determination, echoed through the stifling silence of the house, slipping through the door and seeping into my mind. Who was he talking to? Or rather, what was he talking to? My heart was pounding in my chest; an irrational fear was taking hold of me, but it was nothing compared to the visceral terror of what those words might mean. The image of my sister, innocent and carefree, merged with that of the invisible forces that seemed to haunt this house.
I felt trapped. An icy shiver ran through me as I laid my hand on the door handle, its surface cold as stone beneath my trembling fingers. I was about to go in, to face whatever lay behind that door, but something held me back — as usual, you'll say. It was as if the house itself were whispering to me not to enter, not to defy whatever was inside, as if it knew that crossing that threshold would change the course of my life forever.
The story continues in the book.
