The Girl with the Knife 🗡️ 7️⃣

Part Seven — The Lie “DON'T LET HER TOUCH YOU!” Her mother's scream tore through the kitchen. She turned. Her mother stood at the doorway, clutching something tightly in her hand. A small silver pendant. The same one from the photograph. Amy smiled. “Too late.” The girl looked down. Amy's fingers were already wrapped around her wrist. Cold. Unnaturally cold. Suddenly, everything came rushing back. A birthday cake. Two little girls laughing. Their mother crying. A locked door. A knife. And a voice saying: “Only one of you can stay.” She gasped and pulled away. “Mum…” Her mother began crying. “I didn't know what else to do.” “You lied to me.” “I was trying to protect you.” “From what?” Her mother looked at Amy. “No.” Amy laughed softly. “Tell her.” Her mother shook her head. “Tell her what happened that night.” Silence. Then her mother whispered: “Amy wasn't your sister.” The girl stared at her. “What?” “She was…” Her mother struggled to speak. “She was something we brought into this house.” Amy's smile disappeared. For the first time, she looked angry. Her mother continued. “After you were born, you became sick. You stopped eating. You stopped sleeping. You cried constantly.” She wiped her tears. “An old woman told me there was a way to make you better.” The girl felt cold. “What way?” Her mother looked at the knife on the floor. “She said I needed another child.” Amy suddenly screamed. The windows rattled. Every light in the house shattered at once. The kitchen fell into darkness. Her mother grabbed her hand. “RUN!” They ran. Behind them came the sound of tiny bare feet racing across the floor. Tap. Tap. Tap The girl looked back. Amy was standing at the end of the hallway. But she wasn't smiling anymore. She was crying. And through her tears, she whispered: “Mummy promised I could stay.” Her mother pulled the girl outside and slammed the door. They stood on the porch, gasping. Then the girl noticed something. Her mother's hand was covered in blood. “Mom…” Her mother looked down. The blood wasn't hers. She slowly opened her palm. Inside was the little silver pendant. And engraved on it were two names: AMY — 2009 ENI — 2009 The girl stared. “Who is Eni?” Her mother looked at her. Terrified. “You are.” Then the front door slowly opened by itself. From inside the dark house came Amy's voice. “No, she isn't.” A pause. Then: “She's me.” Part 8.........

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