The living room was dim, the front door standing slightly ajar, as if the old place itself was breathing through the gap. Faith sat rigid on the couch, her spine unnaturally straight. Behind her, a light shadow stretched across the wall—an elongated darkness, formless yet distinct, creating the unsettling illusion of an unseen presence within the room. Outside, gravel crunched under approaching footsteps. Madison pushed through the front door, the music in her headphones loud enough that Faith could hear its tinny, distant thump. The girl moved with practiced nonchalance, placing her keys on the entry table. Faith watched as Madison's fingers hovered briefly over another set of keys before swiping them into her pocket with a casual motion that was meant to go unnoticed. When Madison turned toward the living room, the shadow behind Faith had vanished—there and gone, like so many things in this house that Madison couldn't quite trust her eyes to have seen. The girl pulled her headphones down to rest around her neck, cutting off the noise mid-beat. Faith opened her mouth, then closed it. Words gathered in her throat like stones, but she couldn't force them past her lips. Something in Madison's posture—the defiant angle of her shoulders, the careful blankness of her expression—made Faith feel like she was staring at a stranger wearing her stepdaughter's face. Madison shook her head, dismissing whatever communication Faith was attempting, and moved toward the hallway with deliberate steps. "Can I have a moment?" Faith finally managed. Madison froze, her gaze fixed on the hallway as if it offered escape. "Really, Faith? I have a ton of homework and it's due tomorrow." Faith's hands twisted in her lap. "Your room is a nightmare. After your homework, I want you to finish unpacking. Then, take the pictures of those boys down, along with the rest of that evil nonsense you have on your walls, and put the crucifix back up." Madison pivoted, slowly and deliberately, to face Faith. Her eyes were cold in a way that made Faith's heart contract with something like fear. "No," Madison said, the single syllable dropped between them like a stone into still water. Faith's hand moved to her pocket, fingers closing around a small bottle. It was cool against her palm as she withdrew it—glass etched with a cross, labeled "Holy Water" in her own careful handwriting. She unscrewed the cap with trembling fingers and poured the contents into her cupped hand. "I'm not goi—" Madison began. The water arced through the air before Madison could finish, splashing across her face in glistening droplets. Some clung to her eyelashes, others traced paths down her cheeks like tears she refused to shed. "What the hell is this?" Madison sputtered, wiping her face with her sleeve. Water darkened the fabric in blotches. Faith's voice took on a distant quality as she recited, "By this Holy Water, and by your precious blood, wash away this evil, O Lord. Amen." She returned the bottle to her pocket with hands that had steadied. "Talk back to me!?" Faith continued, her voice rising. "What has come over you? This isn't like you. What's happened to my baby girl?" Something flashed in Madison's eyes—contempt, perhaps, or something deeper and more wounded. "I'm not a child. I'm old enough to know how I like things, and it's my room. Dad wouldn't have a problem with it." At the mention of Madison's father, Faith felt a familiar tightness constrict her chest. "Your room is in my house." "I have no choice but to live here," Madison said, her voice flat. "That's not fair." "Fair!?" The word flew from Faith's mouth like a curse. "Look around you." Faith rocked on her heels as her gaze swept across the living room—the worn furniture, the faded curtains, the small shrine-like collection of religious figurines that Madison refused to touch. Every object in the house seemed suddenly significant, artifacts of a life that was slowly crumbling around them. "He left me with barely enough to keep this house," Faith said, her voice dropping to a near-whisper, "and now you're my sole responsibility." Madison's lip curled. "Sorry to be such a burden." "A responsibility I cherish," Faith countered, reaching out a hand that Madison didn't acknowledge. "I'm only trying to protect you... We used to be friends." Something vulnerable flickered across Madison's face before hardening again. "A friend would let me keep my room the way I want it." Before Faith could respond, Madison turned and disappeared into the hallway. The sound of her footsteps receded, followed by the sharp crack of a door closing with more force than necessary. In the sudden silence, Faith became aware of a dampness on her cheek. She touched it with her fingertips, surprised to find a single tear had escaped. She stared at the moisture on her fingertips as if it belonged to someone else. Outside, the wind picked up, making the front door creak slightly wider on its hinges. Faith didn't move to close it.
Chapter 5