My maternal aunt, Stella, had passed away a few weeks ago. I didn’t see her that much when she was alive (she was my mother’s older sister, and they weren’t that close), but she was fond of me and I liked her decently enough. She was the only other family member I had on my mother’s side, because she and my mother were the only children of my maternal grandparents, and they were both long dead by the time I was born. They had both perished in a house fire, shortly after my mother had married my father.
My parents and I used visit her sometimes on weekends when I was a kid. She was always quite affectionate with me, bringing me gifts and playing with me. You know, that sort of stuff. It did kind of weird me out sometimes, but I thought she was just kind of lonely.
My aunt had been married once and had a son named Elias. But her husband, who was mentally ill, had a psychotic breakdown, kidnapped Elias and threw both Elias and himself into the sea. Their bodies were never found. My mother had never met my aunt’s husband and her nephew because her and my aunt had been estranged for many years after the deaths of their parents. They had only gotten back in touch shortly after I was born.
My aunt lived in a biggish manor house, that had been in my mother’s family for quite a few generations. I loved the place, it just felt so big and open and it sat next to a nice big field and a dense woodland too, giving young me plenty of places to explore. When I had found out that she had left me the manor house in her will, I was fucking ecstatic! And I quickly made plans to move in as quickly as possible. I now finally had a house of my own, I was no longer confined to my parents’ house in my early 20s.
But there was one place at the manor that had always been a mystery to me, and that place was the large, victorian style greenhouse that was adjacent to the manor house. My aunt had strictly forbidden me and my parents from going anywhere near it. She had told us that it was structurally unstable, and so overgrown that it just wasn’t safe to go walking around inside of it. She had also whispered to me that some poisonous exotic plants were growing inside of it as well. But of course, I was a curious kid and my aunt’s warnings didn’t stop me from trying to peek inside of it. But it was so overgrown inside that you couldn’t really see much. The only exotic plants really visible inside of it were some tall palms, that looked to have been planted in the centre.
I had one specific memory of one of my sneaky excursions to the greenhouse. I was 8 or maybe 9 at the time. It was around late afternoon in early autumn. The sky was cloudy, and the air had a soft chill to it. My folks and my aunt were inside chatting away, and I had slipped away outside to entertain myself. I lurked up to the greenhouse, and pressed my face up against the glass to try and spot a new plant. And then I had seen a big, dark shape moving behind some foliage. I got freaked out then and backed away from the greenhouse and didn’t go near it again for the reminder of my childhood.
I would have asked my aunt about it, but I was worried that I would get in trouble. So I kept my mouth shut and just assumed that I had seen some kind of animal, like a badger or something. My aunt could be a real nasty piece of work when she was mad. I could remember all of the snide, spiteful comments she would hurl at my mother whenever they fought. She was never aggressive with me though, which was why I probably found it so difficult to see just how toxic my aunt’s behaviour could be at times.
Eventually, their fights got so bad that my parents stopped visiting altogether. I was angry about it at first, but looking back, my aunt really wasn’t as nice a person I thought she was. And I have started to feel that her affection for me may have had its ulterior motives. But of course, it was likely that her nastier habits may have been the result of the trauma she had suffered in life. Losing your husband to and your baby at the same time, sure as hell would have wreaked havoc on someone. Not to mention losing both your parents too. But according to my mother, my Aunt had always been a huge harpy.
…
I drove up to the manor house on a warm Saturday morning. I was going to get everything ready today, and then invite my girlfriend over tomorrow. She had always wanted to see what the place looked like. I couldn’t wait to see her reaction. And another thing that was making me positively giddy was that I was now finally able to see just what dwelled inside of the enigmatic greenhouse. I was finally able to slake my years-long curiosity.
I smiled broadly as the manor house came into view. When I walked up to the oak door, I pushed it wide open and closed my eyes as I entered, allowing childhood nostalgia to flow over me. Then I carried my luggage up to my old bedroom, unpacked it and laid on the bed for a bit, to revisit some memories. After that, I sort of just wandered around the manor house for a bit. The quietness felt so lovely and tranquil, although staying in such a big house at night would probably get a bit creepy. But I was a grown man, I could handle it.
But my pleasant mood quickly soured as I came upon the stairway. I forgot to mention how my aunt had died. She had been found at the bottom of the stairs, battered and with a snapped neck. The autopsy had revealed alcohol in her system, so it was believed that she had been walking down the stairs while drunk, slipped and broke her neck.
I felt a bit uncomfortable now. The news of her death had come as a bit of a shock, and I was saddened quite heavily by it. I hadn’t seen my aunt for quite a few years by the time of her death, but I still had tons of warm and happy memories of her. Despite her sometimes unpleasant behaviour, I would be lying if I said I wouldn’t miss my aunt.
I tried to push away the melancholic thoughts in my head, and then I ascended the staircase. The manor was about three stories tall, and my aunt had used the third floor for storage mostly. But there were a few spare bedrooms up here as well. The attic was pretty big, but my aunt didn’t go up there much because it was so cluttered. Some of the stuff up there dated back to the early 19th century, from what my mother had told me. I’d have to go up there and look around for anything antique, I thought could probably make some good money from it.
I ascended the stairway to the attic and opened the door. I was quite taken aback by the size of the attic and with all its clutter of boxes stacked atop each other and cobweb covered shelves, it felt damn near maze-like. It was almost intimidating, but exciting at the same time. I couldn’t wait to see what I could find up here. I stepped further into the attic, and saw that the window was broken.
“Son of a bitch…” I huffed.
I’d have to get it replaced quickly. Didn’t want birds nesting up here and crapping all over the valuables.
…
I left the attic after giving it a once over and then decided to finally quench my curiosity of the greenhouse. I jogged back downstairs, out the front door and to the garden where there sat the big greenhouse. I stared upon it with anxious anticipation, and then I slowly approached the doors and took hold of the handles. And the doors didn’t budge. I quietly cursed as I realised that they were locked and I had no idea where the key was. I scoped out the exterior of the greenhouse, trying to find another way in. One of the glass panels on the roof was broken, but it was too dangerous to go climbing around on the greenhouse. As my aunt had said, it wasn’t very structurally stable.
My best bet was to just go and find the key.
After my failed expeditionary attempt, I returned to my bedroom. I found my briefcase on the floor, and my clothes strewn about. I distinctly remember leaving the briefcase on the bed. It must have slipped off. Maybe I had put it a bit too close to the edge?
A few hours later…
I had finished unpacking and getting my bedroom ready for my inhabitance of the manor house. I was feeling a bit to tired to cook, so I just ordered takeaway. The weather had gone downhill by the time night rolled around, a pretty heavy rainstorm had erupted. Much to my annoyance, I discovered that the manor house had shoddy internet and the storm was screwing with the television too. So in the end, I just went to bed.
I will admit, it was kind of spooky wandering through the dark hallways of the manor house while knowing that I was completely alone inside of it. In such a big house like this, someone could sneak in and you would be none the wiser. I was honestly kind of relieved when I finally made it to my bedroom, and though I felt a bit childish, I locked my bedroom door. Though I hated to admit it, I just felt a bit more secure with it locked.
I was laying in my bed, reading a magazine. It was mostly quiet, except for the rain rattling against the window and the wind bellowing. But then I heard a loud bump come from somewhere upstairs, it was so goddamn loud that I jumped slightly. It unnerved me for a second, but then rationality quickly took over. It was probably something up in the attic that got knocked over by the wind, because the window was broken. I hoped it wasn’t anything of value.
I fell asleep shortly after that.
…
The storm had passed by morning. The sun was out and the sky was mostly clear, but the wind had lingered. My girlfriend, Zoe, had arrived at the manor house around late-morning. I had also phoned a guy to come and replace the window in the attic, and he’d be arriving around afternoon time. So until then, I thought I’d give Zoe a little tour of the manor house.
“Your aunt must’ve felt lonely living in this big ass house all by herself.” Zoe said as we strolled down a corridor.
“She didn’t really seem that bothered by it whenever me and folks visited her.” I replied.
“Well I couldn’t live in this place all by myself.” Zoe expressed as we entered the living room. Then she collapsed onto the sofa.
“It can get a bit spooky in here at night though, Zoe.” I said as I joined her on the sofa.
“Yeah, I expect it to. Wouldn’t surprise me if the place is haunted.” Zoe said jokingly. “This like an old, old house. How longs it been around Eric?”
“I can’t really say. My dad thinks it might date back to the late-1600s or maybe a bit earlier…” I replied.
I had never really studied the history of the manor house. I’d have to look it up for myself at some point.
I heard the doorbell ring, it was likely the window repairman. I hauled myself from the chair and sauntered over to the front door and opened it. The repairman was kind of greasy looking, and had a sweaty, unshaven face. He looked more like a stereotypical plumber than a window repairman. He stunk of B.O. , it frigging wafted from him like a pungent wave.
“Hiya, I’m here to sort the broken window out.” The guy said, his voice raspy, like he smoked cigarettes like there was no tomorrow.
“Oh um… yeah, thanks for showing up. I’ll show the busted window. Just follow me.” I replied.
I lead him into him into the house and he caught sight of Zoe on the sofa.
“She your wife?” He asked.
“No, she’s my girlfriend.” I replied.
“Wish I could get a girl that pretty.” He chuckled.
I gave him a funny look and he quickly quieted.
“Uh.. sorry. Didn’t mean to be weird. I’m just… bad with conversations.” He said.
“Just follow me up the stairs.” I replied.
“This is one big house. Its like a damn mansion.” The repairman said as we ascended the stairs.
“Yeah, its a manor house. Its been in my family for a good few generations. My aunt used to live here before she passed away, she left me the house in her will.” I replied.
We headed up to the attic and the repairman seemed aghast at how cluttered it was.
“Jesus Christ, you’re aunt was one hell of a packrat.” He said.
“Most of this stuff has been here since before she was even born.” I responded, as I lead him over to the broken window.
“Right let me just give it a look over and I’ll see what I can do.” Said the repairman.
“Watch your step okay? Just be careful not to trip over the clutter.” I said.
“Eh, don’t worry. I’ve worked in way more frigging dilapidated places than this.” The repairman replied.
My phone suddenly went off. It was my mother calling, I excused myself and exited the attic. I then went into one of the spare rooms for some added privacy.
“Hi Eric, sorry I couldn’t call you yesterday. How’s the house?” She said.
“Its been pretty nice so far mum. Zoe came over today too, I’ve been showing her around a bit.” I replied.
“Have you spat on any of the pictures of Aunt Stella yet?”
“Mum, don’t be like that. I know she could be a bit of bitch, but she’s still your sister.”
“Trust me when I say this Eric. If you’d grown up with her, you wouldn’t have wanted her anywhere near you. I know she was all sunshine and kisses to you when you were little, but trust me, she was just putting on a face. She was a spoiled, nasty brat. Do you know what she did to me when I was a kid? She held my head under the bath water until I almost fucking passed out.”
“Jesus christ, really mum?”
“Yes Eric. Like I told you before. Stella has always been horrible. I am genuinely starting to think that she never had a husband and a baby. I think she just made it all up as a sob story to try and get us to feel sorry for her. Trust me Eric, Stella lied like it was no tomorrow. I also find it really suspicious that she only got back in touch with me after you were born.” My mother explained.
My mother’s words sank into me. Maybe she was right about Aunt Stella all along. I felt a bit creeped out now, by how flawlessly my aunt had seemed able to change face. I always remembered seeing be a raging witch at my mother. But then, whenever she interacted with me, she seemed like an angel of light who could do no wrong. But then again, my mother could have just been letting her bitterness get the better of her. All siblings fought after all. And maybe Stella did genuinely have affection for me.
I suddenly heard a series of loud bumps and the sound of something crashing upstairs.
“I’ll have to call you back mum.”
I put my phone back in my pocket and rushed out of the spare room. The repairman must’ve knocked a bunch of stuff over. I hoped that he hadn’t broken anything antique up there.
“Eric! Eric! Come downstairs now!”
Zoe called me, her voice sounded urgent. I bolted down the stairs and found her waiting for me at the foot of them. She looked panicked.
“Its the repairman!”
She lead me to the backgarden. The repairman was laying face down on the grass, his right leg looked like it had snapped. The bone was sticking out of the skin.
“He must’ve fallen out of the window!” She told me as she crouched by him and checked for a pulse.
I grabbed my phone out of my pocket.
“I’ll call an ambulance!”
…
The paramedics had arrived quickly. The repairman was still alive, but was in critical condition. We explained to them what had happened beforehand. Zoe was quite shaken up afterward, and we both agreed that it was probably best that she went home. I felt awful about what had happened. Sure, the guy was a bit off, but still I wouldn’t have wished injury on him without good reason. I should’ve cleaned up a bit in the attic before he arrived to make it safer for him to work up there.
It was early evening now, and I had gone into the kitchen to make dinner. I had been looking forward to having dinner here tonight with Zoe, but that accident, which was completely my fault, had ruined it. I opened the pantry door and switched on the light. Several jars were smashed open on the floor, and a few of the boxes had been torn open, their contents also all over the floor.
I gritted my teeth. There must’ve been a rat infestation. Great, just another item on my growing list of problems with this house. I’d call an exterminator in the morning, because putting out rat poison just wasn’t feasible because of the size of the house. The little bastards had plenty of places to hide.
I’d clean up the mess in the morning. I just made some spaghetti bolognese for dinner, watched a bit of tv and then was about to go to bed. But, I decided to check the attic out first. Maybe I could find what had caused the repairman to fall.
I walked up the stairs to the attic, and opened the door. I reached out into the darkness to switch on the light. But… my fingers brushed up against something furry. I recoiled instantly and slammed the door and then I heard something scurry away on the other side of the door, and whatever it was, it sounded way too big to be a rat.
Maybe a fox or a badger had somehow gotten into the attic. Maybe that was why the repairman fell out of the window. And maybe it was the creature that had raided my pantry too.
Maybe I’d have to call animal control in place of an exterminator?
I locked the attic door for good measure and then I went off to bed. Once again, I heard the bumps coming from upstairs. But I wasn’t as unnerved this time, because now I knew the source of the bumps. It was just some animal squatting in my attic.
…
I awoke the next morning to a dreary day. The sky was overcast and the wind had picked up again, but it still looked pretty dry outside. I got up out of bed and noticed that my closet door was open. I must not have shut it properly last night. I walked to the door and also noticed that I had not locked it last night either. The thought briefly unsettled me, but once again, rationality quickly stomped it out. I was completely alone in this house. There was just some dumb animal in the attic and that was all.
I had breakfast and got washed up. I thought to have a walk around the manor grounds today, and probably take walk in the woods next to the manor grounds. I put on my coat and my boots and I walked out into the backgarden. On the far side of the garden, was a large fruit cellar. I had completely forgotten that it was there. I needed to go and check it out.
I strolled over to it and opened it up. Course it was empty now, but when I was young, my Aunt Stella had kept some jars of nice fruit up on the shelves, to gift to me. My mood soured at the what used to be a happy memory, as my mother’s words from yesterday echoed in my head.
Did Aunt Stella really love me? Or was she just doting on me to hurt my mother? Why could she hate her little sister so much as to do something as cruel as try to steal away her son’s affection?
I noticed something on the far wall of the cellar. In between two shelves, and hidden behind a barrel, was what looked a small wooden door. I approached and moved the barrel out of the way and unlatched the little door. I opened it and my eyes widened. It was a small, secret room.
The only thing inside of it was a large wooden box. Atop this box, was a framed picture of me and my Aunt Stella. I was sitting on her lap, with a giddy smile. Her pale face was lit up with a wide grin, her shaggy black hair flowing down her shoulders, her forehead hidden beneath thick bangs. And her juniper-green eyes stared down at me on her lap, with breathless affection.
It just felt… wrong. There was an aura to her in this photo. An aura of possessiveness.
I took the picture off of the box, and placed it front down on the floor, so that I didn’t have to look at it any longer. Memories flashed in my mind. My aunt looming above me in my bedroom at night, embracing me with smothering excitement, whispering vicious lies about my mother and my grandparents into my ear, telling me she was the only one who loved me.
I shook the memories away and opened the box. There was a diary inside, and beneath this diary, were several pieces of paper that had likely been torn out of the diary. My hands shaking slightly, I opened the diary and yes, several of the pages were missing, the pieces of paper in the box had to be them. But why had she torn them out?
I read through the entries, utterly horrified.
My aunt had started the fire that killed my grandparents. She had written about how they had favoured my mother, giving her everything, while she was left all alone to rot in neglect. And to make matters worse, she had also been planning to kill my mother and father, so that she could gain custody of me and finally make me her “perfect son”.
I threw the diary away. My god, she was fucking insane. I didn’t believe any of the shit she had written about my grandparents. My grandparents never neglected her at all. As my mother had always told me, my aunt was a spoiled, vicious cow who’d to raise hell if she couldn’t have her way. She had fucking killed her own parents in cold blood over what was likely just a little tantrum, and she was a fucking grown woman when she had done it too. Not to mention she had been fucking planning to kill my parents too and force me to be her son instead.
Why the hell was she so obsessed with me?
I looked at the pages at the bottom of the box and took hold of them. What I read on them chilled me to my core and really, really fucking showed me the depths of my aunt’s depravity.
My aunt had not been married, but she had been in a relationship with a man. Well, she was having an affair more like it and no one knew about it. The man was named Victor and he was set to be married to another woman. But Victor didn’t love the woman and wanted to instead start a relationship with Stella (she had undoubtedly charmed him, while hiding what she was really like). He had gotten her pregnant and she had given birth to a Elias. Elias was born with a genetic deformity, but my aunt hadn’t elaborated on what it exactly was, she had only described him as looking like a “stupid fucking monkey”.
She wanted to get rid of Elias, because he had ruined her wish for a perfect family. But Victor wanted to keep him, and run away with Stella for them to start a new life somewhere. But Stella went berserk and attacked him, stabbing him in the throat with an icepick. And then she hid his body inside the greenhouse. So that was why she didn’t want us going near it.
Because no one knew about the affair, Victor’s family had just assumed that he had gotten cold feet and run away. Stella gloated about how his fiancee had attempted suicide shortly after, and spent much of her life in a mental institution.
What had happened to Elias, I did not know. Because Stella had only written down that she had “thrown him into the jungle, to be a stupid animal.” So I just assumed that she had either abandoned or killed him and buried him in the woods by the manor house or somewhere else.
My hands were shaking, cold sweat dripped all across my body. I needed to phone my mother and tell her all about this. About how much of a disgusting monster that her sister really was.
But first, I needed to go into the greenhouse and find Victor’s body. Sure I should’ve just phoned the police and told them, but I was unsure about whether they would believe me or not. And I just wanted to feel… some closure I guess. All of the horrible stuff I read in my Aunt’s diary had completely fried my brain, and I just wanted to make sure that it was all true.
God damn, I felt sorry for Victor and especially Elias. And my poor grandparents. I hoped that Stella was rotting to nothing down in hell. The bitch deserved it. Big time.
I left the fruit cellar and went to the utility shed, and I retrieved a shovel. I then went to the greenhouse and beat against the door with the shovel until it finally opened. I finally entered the place that had always been a mystery to me as a child, but now, it was no longer a mystery. It was completely filled with exotic, foreign plants, left to grow wild, completely cut off from the outside world. It was so overgrown and oddly warm, that it truly felt like a section of jungle that had been pulled from the amazon and then replanted onto the english heathland.
The vegetation inside was just so thick that I felt it was impossible to locate where Stella had hidden Victor’s body. I searched around for a few minutes, but in the end, I just resigned to allow the authorities to comb the big greenhouse.
I was about to head back to the door, when I saw something on the ground. It was magpie, with huge bite taken out of its torso. And that wasn’t the only thing. As my eyes scrutinised the ground, I eventually found a large, very human footprint that definitely wasn’t my own.
I felt a terrifying realisation begin to stir within me, but I tried to suppress it, but to no avail. I thought back to finding my briefcase open and my clothes scattered all about my room. And the bumps I had heard upstairs at night. And the pantry being raided. And the repairman… falling out of the window. My… closet door being wide open, when I hand’t locked my bedroom door the night before. The… furry thing that my fingers had brushed against in the dark attic. And I recalled that time I had seen something moving around in the greenhouse as a child
And I remembered what Stella had said in her diary of horrors.
“thrown him into the jungle, to be a stupid animal.”
This greenhouse very much was a jungle.
“Oh my god…”
Elias wasn’t dead. He was here. And he had always been here.
“Oh god… oh fuck… oh fuck!”
I bolted to the door and slammed it shut and propped the shovel up against it to try and make a feeble little barricade, that I doubted would hold Elias back. If even was still inside of the greenhouse.
I sprinted back into house, and then ran to my room to get my phone. I got to the doorway and stopped dead in my tracks. I saw two, icy-blue eyes staring at me from underneath my bed. Then a muscular, hair-covered arm unfurled out from beneath the bed, its nails long, yellow and thick. And then, Elias crawled out onto the floor and arose.
He was massive. Well over six foot, and had a very strong, wiry build. His body was completely covered in long, shaggy hair. His only item of clothing was a pair of filthy trousers.
He just stood there, staring at me with his icy eyes. They were filled with contempt, hate and pained rage. Just mindless, desperate rage at everything. At the world. A world that he had been imprisoned from, and forced to watch from the confines of his prison.
I held my hands up, in a likely futile attempt to calm the giant.
“E-Elias… Its okay. I-I’m… I don’t… I’m your cousin. I’m family… I don’t want to hurt or upset you…”
I saw a picture frame of Stella on a small table near my bedroom door. I grabbed it and showed it to Elias.
“Elias, she’s dead. This horrible, horrible woman is dead! Its okay… she isn’t around to hurt you anymore.”
Elias stared at the picture for a second, and then his mouth curled up into a vicious grin, revealing, jagged, yellow teeth. I looked into his blue eyes, he wasn’t even looking at me at all. He was just standing there, grinning and staring at the picture of Stella, as if he was remembering something, and savouring it.
Then his eyes moved to me, and then to the picture. Then to me, and then to the picture again. His grin faltered, and turned into a hateful scowl.
“Shit…”
He charged at me, I dropped the picture and ran towards the stairs. I felt the banister shake as Elias grabbed hold of it and charged up the stairs after me. I darted to the nearest room, tore open the door, leapt in and then locked it. I was in the manor library and there was a phone in here too.
I heard Elias scream from behind the door, and rumbled as he began to hit it. Fucking hell he was strong, I doubted that the door would hold that long. I rushed to the phone and called the police.
“What is your emergency?” The responder asked.
“I’m inside the O’Ryan Manor House. I’m being attacked!”
I hear the door begin to splinter. I dropped the phone and hid behind one of the bookshelves. The door finally gave way, and Elias stomped into the library. His head darted around as he tried to locate me. He stalked over to the fireplace, crouched down and peered up it. I took the chance to bolt out from behind the bookcase, and ran for the door.
I sprinted to the door at the end of the small corridor, hearing Elias’ heavy footsteps rapidly approaching. I tore it open, rushed through the doorway and slammed it shut, and then locked it. Elias came up to the the door, hit it a couple of times, but then went quiet. I heard him grumble a bit and then he walked away. So either he had given up the chase or he was trying to find another way to get at me.
I had entered the adjacent corridor. There was only two doors inside here. I tried the closest one, it was a small bedroom. I entered and locked the door, and sat down on the bed. I felt safe for now. The police should be arriving soon to sort the whole thing.
A shadow appeared at the window. It was fucking Elias. He was standing on something. Crap, I didn’t realise. This room was directly above the conservatory. Elias must’ve climbed it.
I jumped from the bed and ran for the door, just as I heard the window shatter. Lucky, I managed to unlock the door before Elias was able to fully get inside the room. I ran out of the room and towards the door I had locked before. I went to unlock it, but I felt Elias’ arms wrap around me and lift me from the floor.
His grip was like steel, no matter how much I struggled, it didn’t faze him one bit. He carried me over to the window, and threw me out of it. I fell towards the conservatory, and broke through the panelling. Luckily, my fall was broken by one of the deck chairs, but my right leg and my left shoulder had been torn up by the glass.
I rolled from the chair onto the floor, I was in absolute agony. My vision started to falter than, and I passed out soon after.
…
When I awoke, I was still inside the conservatory, but now I was being tended to by a few paramedics. There was a lot of commotion around me. I could see a few armoured police officers by the door, discussing something. One of the paramedics noticed that I had awoken, and signalled to a few others.
I was put onto a gurney and rolled out to the nearest hospital. I was told that I had lost a bit of blood, but that I was otherwise not too badly injured. My parents and my girlfriend arrived soon after. I told them all about what had happened. About Elias, and about all of the horrible things Stella had done. My mother had turned pale white, and just sat in the corner completely listless for ages. I couldn’t imagine what she was feeling.
An officer showed up eventually to question me on what had happened. I told him about the diary, about Stella’s crimes and about Elias and what she had done to him. The police hadn’t captured Elias, the officer had told me that he was gone by the time they had arrived at the manor house.
It turned out that Elias had been born with ambras syndrome, also known as “Werewolf syndrome”. Its that genetic condition which causes excessive hair growth all over the body, except for the palms and soles. Apparently, it had occurred a few times on my mother’s side of the family, but never to the extant of Elias.
Now I will say that I do not hate Elias. Yes he tried to kill me, and likely tried to kill the repairman. But, at the end of the day, he was the real victim in all of this. He wasn’t a monstrous freak. He was just a man who had the bad luck of being stuck with a psychotic freak for a mother. This was all Stella’s fault. She was the real monster in all of this. She had been the one who locked Elias up from the outside world, and forced him to be what he eventually became. My poor cousin never had a chance at all.
I don’t know where he is now. But a part of me secretly hopes that he can eventually be helped. Be allowed to be something else, instead of what Stella had forced him to be. But… Now, I just think its too late.