My wife and I have been together for just under 10 years. We’ve been married for 5 years. Ever year, my wife and her family take a family trip to one of their ‘cabins’ for just about a week (A cabin is an understatement if I’m being completely honest). Their family is really big (wife has 5 siblings) but my wife comes from a pretty wealthy background, so they can accommodate the sheer amount of people that’ll be going to the house for the vacation.
My wife (let’s call her K) has been begging me to join her on these trips for years, and I must admit, I’m not really the kind of guy that enjoys so much socialization with family members. In the past, I’ve had excuses not to go (work trip, last minute projects that need supervision and taking care of my grandmother when she was sick). However, I am completely free this year, and I’d hate to tell her I don’t want to go because I don’t really want to see her family for that long.
The problem is, I’m not exactly fond of K’s family, and I have a feeling that it is a mutual sentiment. They’ve always struck me as very eccentric people based on what I’ve seen alone during holiday dinners and get-togethers. Her parents’ home has their walls plastered with strange murals, and there are statues that almost feel.. real. The help around the house feel like living robots, catering to K’s mom, their mistress.
I know I sound absolutely crazy right now, but it is the genuine truth. Her parents alone are strange enough (they have a habit of petting my hair, complimenting my face, touching my face etc.) and even though I have brought it up many times with K, she just dismisses it as them “showing their new son some extra love”.
Her siblings are no better, and I’d rather not go into detail about how… weird, they all make me feel. I’ve caught one of her brothers in some very… strange acts a couple of times (not sure if the guy is some kind of voyeur), and the rest just follow his every word.
You might think that’s just them following their big brother, and at first, I would be inclined to agree. However, it’s almost like they slave after him. My wife is no different, unfortunately. Whenever I tried to speak to her in their presence, they just turned and… stare. No matter where they might be in the house. I felt their eyes on me. All of them. Then there’s this crushing feeling I get, like if I make one wrong move and I’m dead.
My aversion to them has deepened tremendously since they asked for my help today.
My mother-in-law had asked if I could possibly assist with the renovations of the bedroom on the 2nd floor of their home, along with playing part-time caretaker for her husband.
It was just a little strange, considering that they had enough money to just hire someone to do the work for them. Not to mention, they had 3 sons that can do just about the same thing. K explained that it was because I work in contract construction, and her mother has specifically asked for me. K insisted I should go so I could get to know her parents better, and I relented. Of course, I’d want to do better with my wife’s family.
It was as normal as you’d think. I’d carry the materials, show my men the plans that has been given to me by my mother-in-law, tend to K’s father and try my best to talk to the maids, though they were always unresponsive unless I ask about K’s mom.
The father looks more of a shell than a man. He’s about 20 years the mother’s senior, and bound to his bed and wheel chair. As far as I know, the person who used to tend to him had quit, and no one could fill in on the 24/7 care on such short notice.
The maids would offer snacks and tea. Funny enough, what I was given was completely different from what the rest of the workers were given. That should have been my first red flag. Now, despite my initial hesitation, I obliged. I ate until I was stuffed,
Eventually, the rest of my workers had left. Though I stayed back to make sure my father-in-law didn’t keel over in the room he was in. The food kept coming, though. Piling on top of each other until there was a mound of plates, meat, and fruit on the table
“I appreciate all of this, but I really am full. So if you’d just -“
“The mistress has requested we keep you docile.” Their voices were monotone, with these smiles that were quite literally almost plastered on their faces.
Docile? Who says those kinds of things, I pondered. Full? Sure. Satisfied? Maybe, but docile?
“Where exactly is the mistress?” I asked in hopes of finding K’s mother, to try to tell her that her staff really was spending too much of their time seeing about me as opposed to the rest of the house.
“The mistress has matters to attend to. She has requested that we keep you docile.” There it was again, with those plastered smiles and eyes that were so sunken. Almost as if they were quite literally sewn on. But that’s nonsense, you would think. Anyone would think I was overreacting, but the word “docile” kept repeating in my head. Why wouldn’t I be?
Docile, docile, docile…
There was the nausea again, the feeling that everyone was watching me. The maids with their quirked lips as they stood and waited for me to turn my back and bring me more food. The house was so quiet that I could hear my laboured breathing and the shifting of my clothes as I tried to get up.
Docile… Docile my ass. I needed to leave.
The maids were gone, likely to bring me another plate of the food they insisted on bringing, per the “mistress” and all her damn requests.
The floor felt slippery I noticed, as if I was walking on sleet and I had to grab the table for balance, nauseous and just starting to panic as my trek to the door felt even more difficult with each step.
“We can not let you leave per the mistress’ request. She has requested we keep you d-“
“Docile! I know!” I started shouting at them, and it left a ringing in my ear.
I couldn’t hear much of anything besides my heartbeat and my shouting. The room began to smell. No, it began to stink. I smelt rotten fruit and decayed stench of meat and tasted the bile that threatened to be retched. The after-taste in my mouth was horrible. As if what I had eaten wasn’t a carefully catered meal but literal decayed carcass.
“What does she want me so fucking docile for?” My head was pounding so much I had to close my eyes and feel my way blindly for the main door. I collapsed on the floor, hearing those maid say the same thing over and over.
“The mistress has requested…”
“Per the mistress’ request…”
“We have been requested to keep you..”
Docile
I threw up over myself, coughing and borderline crying, clutching at my stomach, hearing myself way too much: My breathing, the pounding at my heart, the rustling of my clothes and those damn maids behind me.
How can I possibly explain the pain I felt as I retched on the floor? The fear I felt when I heard a metallic sound hit the ground. The rage I felt when I came to the realization that I was probably poisoned at worst and drugged at best.
All their eyes were still on me. Who were “they”? I’m not exactly sure, but they were there up until I had passed out.
I woke up to see K right next to me. I was worried when I realized I was probably out of it for a very long time, but my heart dropped when I looked into her eyes. She stared back at me with a blank expression. No love, no worry. It was as if she didn’t even want to be here.
“I told you, you should come.” She murmured. So softly that I almost didn’t hear it.
Come? Come where? Where the fuck am I going ?
“We’re gonna leave in a week. I already have your documents you’d need.” The trip. The little trip I tried so hard to avoid.
“Where am I?” I asked, “You were supposed to be at work? So how long was I passed out for?”
“I don’t know, my mother found you. Brought you to the hospital after” She answered
K had reached for my hand and squeezed it, or rather, she had clamped down on my hand and stared at me. “Are you okay? Do you feel better? More docile?” Then there was that goddamn plastered smile on her face as she asked. Her hands were squeezing my fingers so hard I shut my eyes to not cry out from the pain.
I’m not sure how long it had been before she left. She just told me she’d see me in time for the trip, that she was going to be by her parents to ‘give me space’.
That was just a few hours ago. I couldn’t remember what the doctors said. I’m not sure if I would have believed them anyway, considering K’s mom knew them. They might all be working together for all I knew.
Surprisingly I still had my phone on me, but when I opened it, I saw my calendar show a reminder of the trip, exactly one week from now, followed by a countdown widget. I don’t know who had the liberty to go through my phone and I really don’t want to know either.
I’m not exactly sure where to go from here. K wants me to go, or rather she’s demanding that I go.
After today, I’m almost convinced they’re showing me what happens if I avoid them again.
I have an inkling that no matter what I choose, my life will ultimately be in danger. I want to call K and let her know my decision. She said she has all my travelling documents and now that I think about it, it seems more so a threat than anything else. I can’t go anywhere out of the country, not legally at least.
If I do go, should I arm myself? Let someone know where I’ll be? Or am I being too paranoid and this is just a sick joke of some sort.
Posting this on here so I can get some kind of opinions on it. Also so someone can know what’s going on…