My name is Cara Haron and I have lived in this house my entire life. I know it’s halls and creaks. I know which step to avoid when you wanna sneak a snack late at night and I know which stone in the paved pathway will knock you on your ass. I have never felt scared or like this house wasn’t safe, until today.
I started college last month but came home for the weekend to see my fathers. My relationship with them has always been close and I thank whatever spiritual nonsense out there for giving me them as my parents. My dads conceived me using a surrogate and while I have met her before, I don’t really spend time with her. I was the only child they chose to have and honestly, I haven’t really wanted siblings. Someone to share their attention with? No, thank you. I love being their one and only.
It was this weekend back home, however, that I found the diary.
Despite their attempts to get the time off of work, the Friday I arrived, they both were at their jobs. I was a little irritated but knew we would spend a good amount of time together the next few days but man, I was not looking forward to being bored. Normally they’re good for a nice binge watch of a trashy show or something like that but now here I am. Alone.
I hung out in my room for a bit before I decided to try and get up into the attic. I was tired of rewatching old episodes of Friends and I wanted to do something with my hands, you know? I wanted to get those brownie points for cleaning something and the attic would be perfect for that. It hadn’t been touched in so long and dammit, I was gonna get it done and get that sweet, sweet praise.
Sorting through boxes and boxes, I found a box of books. Some looked ancient and were crumbling at the spine, glue long since yellowed and crusty. One stood out, though. A maroon, gold embellished journal, looking like it hadn’t aged a day in the seemingly 90 years it had been vibing here. I glanced through the pages, about to toss it down until the words “strangling” and “knife” pop out at me. Looking around the attic, a growing sense of unease slithering up my spine, I flip to what is seemingly the beginning of the entry and begin to read. What I read…cannot be explained. I hope it was fiction. I hope it was all lies. But the horror and fear that has not left me since won’t let me not believe this woman…my (however many greats) aunt. What will come next are the words of May Haron, copied down for all of reddit to see in hopes that someone, somewhere can help me figure out what to do next.
***
April 25th, 1932
We weren’t supposed to know that there were favorites. Whenever we would ask our parents which of us they loved the most, they would laugh us off and assure us that we all have something to give equally. Marion is smart, they say, she’ll bring honor back to our family by being the first to graduate college. Charlotte is beautiful, she’ll honor us by marrying well and raising our status. May, which is me…May is strong. May will honor us by protecting our family.
From what, we would ask, huddled around them late at night. They always reach out and stroke each of our cheeks in turn and shush us, telling us that we don’t need to worry.
But today, I turned 20 and it was the most special birthday.
Most girls in our respective age groups have a big blowout bash for their 16th and receive jewelry and trinkets, but for our family, 20 is the real one. 20 means you have crossed the threshold from girl to woman. It also means privacy, sweet privacy. Every 20th birthday that us three have had, a big breakfast is made before the other two of us are pulled from the house, soothed with promises of our own fun. The only thing that worries me a bit is, when we returned after Marion and Charlotte’s…they didn’t seem okay. They seemed so tired and spent that I remember sassily remarking on it, asking what extravagant things they did while we spent the night with our grandmother. Their eyes were hollow and sad and Mama would shush me, cheekily responding that turning 20 is hard work and I will one day see.
Marion and Charlotte woke me up, giddy with the promise of presents and my favorite breakfast. I followed them downstairs, their voices high-pitched and sweet with emotion. When we arrived at the table, a beautiful spread was laid out and they both shrieked out their happy birthdays before grabbing me and squeezing tightly, making me feel truly loved. When they pulled back though, there were tears in their eyes. Marion grasped my hands and apologized again and again and again. Charlotte was in the background, her angelic face a blank mask.
I was puzzled, I wanted to reassure my sister and let her know that I forgave her, whatever her trespasses may be and she hurriedly filled me in, Charlotte gasping in indignation.
“You will get three visitors tonight, we cannot help you. This is what we have been preparing for, Mama and Papa have already left. You cannot call for help and no one will come for you until tomorrow. You must keep your chin up and hold your head high. You are May Haron and no one will keep you down, do you understand?”
I wanted to cry but my eyes stayed dry. I didn’t understand what was happening. Charlotte hissed that Marion should have said nothing, telling her that they didn’t get the advantage, why should I?
Marion sadly looked at Charlotte and whispered, “Because I want this one to live.”
They leave and I am left alone, standing in the middle of a well-decorated kitchen, the site of many a family dinner where we have laughed, cried, grieved. I hoped that whatever would happen to me doesn’t lend to a dinner full of sorrow.
I noticed a parcel on the table, my name scrawled in my mother’s loopy font and I gingerly picked it up, feeling the weight of the envelope in my hand. Two items fall out of the package; one small dagger and one small capsule.
“My dearest May,
Today you are 20. Papa and I knew this day would come and we fully believe that you will be the one to make it this time. You will receive three guests. Do not let them in. Do not be fooled however, they will get in anyway. You cannot stop them. You are a Haron and you will live. If you don’t, then you are not a Haron anymore anyway. I am sorry if this sounds cold, darling. We both love you so much but we simply cannot grieve another loss. Papa and I have treated you well, haven’t we? We gave you a good life? All of the etiquette classes, the evenings of study as we helped you rise to the top of your class. Remember that, my dove. Should this be your last night, know that you were cherished and a glorious part of our lives. I hope you make it.
I am so sorry, May. I know at this moment you will want to flee and call the police or someone to come and help you but you cannot. That would be cheating. Papa removed the phone in the night and if any help is given past the point of reading this, I cannot promise it’ll be good help. So trust me when I give you this advice: Do not listen to them. You know who you are. Your instincts are as strong as you are. You do not need to kill to finish the evening but if you do not, they will come back. Finally, you do not know them. They are not who you think. From this moment on, May, you are alone. I hope the dagger helps you return to us and if not…if a merciful release is what you desire, the capsule will grant that wish. Goodbye, my darling. I hope we meet again.
Love, Mama”
She was right. I wanted to flee and get as far away from here as possible. I started hyperventilating. I was in the middle of a feast fit for a king and here I am, in a chair, head between my knees and despite what the letter says, I did not believe that I am strong enough for whatever is coming.
Just then a knock at the door and I heard Marion’s bell-like voice ring out, but it sounded wrong. It sounded…dirty.
“May? I need you to let me in, May. Be a good girl and let Sister in, okay? I promise you it was just a prank.” a tinkling laugh, “Funny, huh? Now let me in, May.”
My body acted on its own accord to let her in but my instincts kicked in. Do not let them in.
Her voice grew agitated, “This is not funny, May, you let me in right this instant.”
I did the opposite and shoved a chair under the door.
“May,” the voice shrieked, harpy-like in volume and tone, “You ungrateful waste of Father’s seed, let me in right this minute before I tear your heart out.”
Tears streamed down my face and I shook my head wordlessly, knowing she can’t see me or rather praying that she cannot.
The door slammed against its locks and I could see the door beginning to give against what sounds like much more than Marion’s diminutive frame. Wood splintered from it and I ran. I ran to the living room where we have spent so many evenings and I was so frightened, I felt as if I could pass out when I heard it. Footsteps, right in the hall. She made it past the door and there was no longer even the illusion of safety.
“Mayyy…” called out Marion’s voice, “I just wanna talk to you, May…Don’t you want to hear how much we all hate you? How much we all wish you had never been born?”
I shoved my hands over my ears and tears were stinging my eyes with their saltiness and I began to fear that I will never be able to see again. I worried that should I survive, I will never unhear these things my sister is now saying to me.
“Come here, May. Let me tell you how unwanted you are and how much Mother wanted a boy.”
I heard her steps grow closer and I panic, wanting to escape and leave while also feeling incapable. I couldn’t do this, I wouldn’t do this. Why was she doing this?
Then I remembered mama’s letter. You do not know them.
This was not Marion. Marion loves me. Marion helped me, the little she could, even when Charlotte was telling her no. Marion would not say this to me.
Gathering my strength, I clutched the dagger. On shaky knees, I walked to where Marion’s voice was emanating.
“Poor little May, so dumb. So ugly. Doomed to be the embarrassment of the family. Oh, how people look at us with disgust and pity when they see you with us. It’s like having a wart that we have never been able to remove no matter how hard we—”
Her voice was cut off, my hand was covered in a thick, black substance. Black smoke spills out of the wound and fills the area around me. My dagger had found its home in her chest as she rounded the corner and despite knowing this is not my sister, my eyes were full of tears and I whispered that I am sorry before I twist.
She screeches, eyes rolling back into her head and she is gone. She is no more.
I was not foolish enough to believe this was the end of it. She fell too easily and too quickly for the amount of warning that I was given and I didn’t know if I could do this again.
I tried to eat some of the food. If Marion was only the first of three, it stood to reason that she would be the easiest. They were only going to get harder and I didn’t want to know how much worse it could get. Her words still rang in my ears and while I knew inside that it was not Marion, I was unsure if I would ever be able to look at her again.
Day faded slowly into evening and I was strung up with adrenaline and fear. I checked all of the drawers for more weapons and I found nothing. All of the silverware save for the plastic cutlery that they left for me on the table had been removed and when I tested it to see how much pressure it can withstand, it snapped in half. I steadfastly ignored the capsule on the table, its blithe appearance mocking me. I placed the door back where it goes and hoped it stays, though Mama’s letter says it won’t matter. I was about to renew my search for anything that could be blunt enough to protect myself with when I heard it. A faint singing coming from the direction of the warped door.
“Oh, little May, poor and frail. Poor little May, will she prevail…”
The singing grew louder and more childlike before a light tapping hit the door.
“May? Please let me in.”
I did not answer.
“May, do not leave me out here, what would mama say about your manners?”
I still did not answer.
“May, you are making me sad and you know I do not like to be sad. Let…me…IN!”
On her last words, the already frail door gave in and was shoved into the room, revealing Charlotte standing there, a maniacal look staining her features.
“Why do you make me sad, May? This is why we chose you for this. All you do is disappoint.”
Even her doppleganger was more graceful than I could ever hope to be as she crossed into the room and this time I was not waiting for her to sling more words at me like Marion did. I rushed at her, dagger raised and I could see that the element of surprise worked out for me as shock flashed for a brief second on her face before being replaced with a wicked smile.
“Ohhh, okay, little May. If that’s what you want.”
I was grappled to the floor and my sister who once held me while I cried after a boy at school called me ugly was now straddling me, her face inches from mine.
“Did you know you were a mistake? Did you know that we despise your existence, all of us? You’re proof that people should not procreate after a certain age.”
I was thrashing as she sprayed spittle in my face, her breath rancid and reeking of burnt meat. I struggled as she continued on, “Did you know how much we all prayed for an accident when you were little? A minor drowning mishap, maybe? A kidnapping? Anything to rid us of you.”
This was still my sister’s visage saying these things to me and the fissure in my heart created from Marion’s previous insults was ripped further with Charlotte’s. I fought against her as her hands wrapped around my throat and she leaned closer.
“We tried to kill you, you know? Numerous times.”
Her hands were growing tighter around my throat and my vision was turning black. Her nails were sure to leave imprints in my skin, reminding me of this day for weeks to come. I couldn’t breathe and these hands that brought me comfort in some of my hardest times were killing me. I heard ringing in my ears and I felt my body start to go limp. I didn’t want to die. I couldn’t die like this, with my sister strangling the life out of me.
I didn’t want to hurt Charlotte but I remembered Mama’s letter and I strengthened myself with the knowledge that I am stronger than this mockery of my sister. I am the strength of the Haron family and I will prevail. I finally bucked strong enough to throw her off balance a little bit but it worked to get her dislodged enough for me to scramble out and try to get away. She grabbed my ankle and pulled me back and as she was dragging me, I threw my hand out and slapped her with all of my might. She looked shocked for a second before renewing her assault, grasping my ankle again and gripping tightly, much tighter than she should be able to. I gasped for air still but the adrenaline surging through me helped me scramble as I patted the ground where I must’ve dropped the knife in the original scuffle and blessedly felt the hard handle before grabbing it. I swiped at Charlotte’s face and hit her cheek. She screamed as black steam began to pour out. I swiped again at her throat and she again shrieked out her anger before disappearing, much as Marion did.
I was once again alone, panting and sweaty. My throat felt like I had smoked a hundred cigars and I did not feel like this fight was as even as the first and I knew that my earlier thought that they were only getting harder was correct. I pulled myself up by grabbing the edge of the table and sat upon it, inspecting my ankle.
Dark red marks marred my flesh, burning in pain. I wondered if my neck looked the same.
I did not know when the next one was coming and all I desired was defeat. I just wanted to sleep and end this “game”. I couldn’t possibly hear my mother or even worse, my father say these cruel things to me. I just wanted to be done. I was tired of the constant thudding in my chest, my heart trying to burst out in its terror.
I eyed the envelope on the table and then glanced at the capsule. I reached out and took it, rolling it in my hand before I heard what I hoped was my third and final visitor.
There was no preamble this time, no pageantry as with Marion and Charlotte. The door slowly creaked open and there stood a small girl, about my size. She was pretty in a simple way and while she was not threatening, an air of danger radiated from her and my fear reached a new level.
“Hello,” she said, looking at me expectantly, “May I come in?
I was mute, puzzled by her politeness.
“I will come in regardless, May. Let me in and this will be easier.”
I stayed silent and did not move, listening to the letter mama left me.
She sighed, shaking her head, “Mama’s letter?”
Still nothing from my end.
“Very well then.”
She came in and took a seat by the now cold food, still placed on the table. Fearing for my life had left me little motivation to clean. She gestured at the seat and I started to feel like a guest in my own home.
“May, my name is Amelia. Do you know me? Don’t bother answering, I am not going to wait for one if you are still holding onto mama’s advice. I am, rather, the eldest Haron. I doubt you would know me. They couldn’t have explained to you what happened to me without ruining the birthday surprise, I suppose, so I will have to do so myself.
This test, May, is meant to check to see if you have the will to survive and carry on the Haron name with pride. I did not pass this. I tried my damndest and it was not good enough. I was raised with love and told that while Marion and Charlotte were smart and beautiful, I was kind. I was so nice and my values would change everything. Do you know what they did to me, May? They LIED. I changed nothing while dying on the living room floor. I did nothing to fix this line and I have never made a difference. But you know what that’s like, don’t you? You know what it’s like to sit there when Mama and Papa tell us what makes them proud of us and feel bitter that yours is not as impressive. Strength, May? What is that? Don’t Marion and Charlotte have that as well? They passed their tests, didn’t they? What makes you special then? I assure you, when you die tonight, they will replace you like they replaced me. I was 20, Marion was 10 and Charlotte was 5. Mama should not have been having more children at 40 but she did because she could not stand the idea of one of her children losing. She wanted another chance to be oh-so-proud and smug. So when you die, May, when you are expiring on the ground and wondering what makes you so much worse than Marion and Charlotte…know this: you will be forgotten and the next child will not even know of your existence until they too turn 20 and you haunt them, just as I am doing to you.”
She paused, checking to see my reaction to her monologue. I was impassive. I am strong. I am May Haron and I am the strength of the Haron family and I could hold it together while this stranger fills my head and heart with dread. I could take this as she slung all of my buried fears into my face.
“Do you want to know what my tests were? Marion and Charlotte, small children, telling me that while I was kind, I would never bear children. No man would ever love me. No man would ever be able to look at me for long enough to even entertain the idea of building a family with me. My final one was the love of my life. I defeated Marion and Charlotte. While creepy, hearing small children tell you things that you know they don’t know the meaning of loses its power. But Fredrick…hearing him tell me that I needed to let go of the idea that he loved me, that he saw any kind of redeemable feature in me? He laughed, May. Laughed and laughed until he cried tears of black and I could not take it. My heart shattered and crumbled and he just rejoiced in my misery. He said such things to me and I took the only way out that I could.”
At this, she looked at the capsule that I had placed upon the table.
“I’ll tell you something, May. It’s so nice here.”
My eyes flew open in surprise.
“It’s so nice here and so wonderful. There are no expectations. I am free and happy and I see Marion and Charlotte every night in my dreams. I still dream. I still feel. I am just no longer tethered to all of these attachments that hurt you.”
She leaned closer, “The nights you spend crying and hating yourself, wanting to break free of the shadow of the incomparable Haron family…You could be free. You could be with me, May. You could be so happy and I would love you even more than they pretend to. I promise, little sister. Come with me and you will never feel less than again.”
I reached out to take the pill. I studied it for so long that I expected her to be gone when I looked back up but she was still there, watching me as if I were the most fascinating thing she had ever seen.
My voice cracked after so long of non-use, “C-Can you hug me? While I do it?”
Her face broke into a smile as she held her arms out, “Of course, it would be an honor.”
I sank into her arms and adrenaline once again pulsed through me before I slammed my fist into her stomach, the dagger that has been an extension of my arm this entire time finding its place deep inside her. Her eyes widened in anger but it was too late. She was gone and I was alone in the room. I was never able to tell her that I was sorry for doing so, that I was sorry for replacing her and even more sorry that I wasn’t sorry that I had been chosen to.
When I surveyed the room and could see that I was finally free from them, I collapsed and sob and finally felt all of the fear that I had been soaking in. I was done. I could rest.
I did not relax and when I heard my family come in and surround me with praise, I sat there. My eyes were dull and I could not muster up relief that they were home. They peppered my face with kisses and I was stuck in my head, hearing the words of my sisters, feeling the emotional wounds. I made my excuses and took my leave as my father beamed at me with pride.
On my way out of the room, I turned and ask my family one thing:
“Why?”
They all shrugged and all they offered me were smiles that did nothing to comfort me or answer the questions in my heart.
I do not know why I had to do this, why our family has been cursed this way. I do not know if my heart will ever settle down and cease its rapid thumping. I do know that a heart is capable of beating once broken. I do know that I am strong, stronger than any of my two, no three, sisters.
I also know something my family doesn’t, that they didn’t even think to confirm:
Amelia did not bleed. She did not seep the black smoke as my other sisters did. She shrieked and left and while I wanted to feel relief, Mama’s letter came back to me.
You do not need to kill to finish the evening but if you do not, they will come back.
Amelia will be back and I don’t know when. I don’t know if I am supposed to do this all over again. I don’t think I can. This evening will never stop haunting me. It will never let me take a full breath again without feeling the pressure of Charlotte’s hands on my windpipe or the words slung at me by Marion. I hope in the future, I am stronger. I hope that I can weather this storm again and again until Amelia is finally slain. I will not be able to live without fear until I do.
Pray for me, diary. Pray for my success but most of all, pray that I am not already dead.
***
That’s it. I have never heard of May or Amelia before. I was the first girl in so many years and I wonder if my father even has a clue about this curse, as they called it. I want to laugh and applaud the creative writing. I wanna poke holes and scoff and call this woman I won’t ever meet a liar but I don’t. I believe her.
The air in the attic is stale. Was it always this dark here? I sit in my dread and think about how I would survive hearing my fathers say similar things to me and I can’t even imagine it. I would die. I would hate to even hear them say they’re disappointed in me, let alone that they regret me. It would kill me.
I ask for your help, reddit, for one simple reason.
I turn 20 next month and I don’t want this to happen to me. I am terrified that on the morning of my 20th, I am going to wake up to dopplegangers of my fathers and some unknown third specter. I can’t let this happen to me. May at least got the warnings. Does my father even know? Could he know? Papa Albert was not a Haron before marriage and I doubt he would know…but Dad? Does he? Does he hate me so much that he just wouldn’t warn me?
No. He can’t. He loves me. I know he does…
Please, help me.