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MidReal Story
Tempted by My Mom’s Friend
Scenario:I stared at the clock, counting down the seconds until Veronica knocked on the door. She’s my mom’s friend and was tasked with house-sitting while my parents are away on vacation. Apparently, they didn’t trust me to be alone at the house.
Finally, I heard the knock. Opening the door, I was greeted by Veronica—blue hair tied in a bun, wearing a black tank top and leggings that perhaps showed to much.
"Heyyyy! Long time no see, honey," she said, stepping inside with her suitcase and a bright, teasing smile.
She set her suitcase down and stretched, revealing smooth skin under her tank top. "Looks like we’ll be alone together for a while," she added with a wink.
Her gaze shifted toward the backyard. "I heard you have a pool... Maybe I'll let you watch as I swim with my bikini on."
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Christine Windsor
firstperson protagonist, female, young adult, relationship with Veronica and parents, petite with curly brown hair, curious and naive
Mateo Windsor
side protagonist, male, Christine's father and Veronica's friend, relationship with Christine and his wife Nicolette, tall with greying hair, protective and trusting
Veronica Carter
protagonist, female, house sitter and friend of Christine's mom, relationship with Christine and her parents, striking blue hair in a bun, seductive and manipulative
My parents are going out of town for a few days.
They're leaving me in the care of their friend Veronica.
I've never met her before, but my mom says she's cool and will be looking after the house as well.
I can't wait for them to leave so I can get some alone time though.
I know they're...
frigid, and I want to see if maybe some of that coldness will wear off while they're away.
Maybe then they'll tell me what I really want to know.
"Christine, Veronica is here."
I hear my dad calling from downstairs, and I put my book down.
Finally, now I'll get some alone time, I think to myself as I walk down the stairs.
"Hello Christine," a woman with striking blue hair in a bun says to me with a smile.
She's thinner than my mom, with a small waist, and bigger breasts.
Her hand stretches out to me in greeting.
"Hi," I say, shaking her hand.
I lead her through the house, starting with the living room.
It's a two-story colonial with a big backyard and pool.
The living room has leather couches and a big TV on the wall.
My dad's record collection is on display in a corner, and he's very proud of it.
Veronica trails behind me, her heels clicking on the hardwood floors.
"So, your parents decorated this place?" she asks as we walk into the kitchen.
"Yes," I say, "the kitchen is through here."
I point to the marble countertops where my mom spends most of her time cooking.
"Nice," Veronica says, running her fingers along the counter.
"The dishes are in those cabinets," I say, pointing to the ones above the sink.
"And there's a fridge and stove over there."
I point to the appliances.
"Great. Upstairs is where my room is?"
Veronica asks, looking up at the stairs.
"Yes," I say, "and my parents' room too. You'll be staying in their room."
I lead her upstairs and point to the bathroom she'll use while she's here.
Then I lead her to my parents' master bedroom where she'll be sleeping.
She stands in the doorway for a moment, looking around at all of their stuff.
She walks over to their bed and puts her palm on it. "Your parents have excellent taste," she purrs, dropping her suitcase by the bed.
"Thank you," I say.
She walks over to the window and looks out into the backyard.
Then she turns and looks at the hallway where the attic is.
"What's up there?" she asks, pointing to the pull-down attic door in the ceiling of the hallway.
"It's just storage," I say.
"There's old furniture and boxes up there. Nothing really important."
"Oh, come on," she says, reaching for the cord.
"I want to see what's up here."
She pulls down on the cord, and the ladder creaks as it unfolds.
Dust falls all around us.
"Ladies first," she says, gesturing for me to climb up first.
I hesitate for a moment.
My dad always told me not to go up in the attic because he said that the floorboards are weak and he doesn't want me falling through.
But Veronica is looking at me expectantly, so I put my foot on the first rung and start climbing. She puts her hand on my lower back and pushes me upward gently.
I climb higher until I can step onto the attic floor.
It smells musty up here, and cobwebs hang from the ceiling.
I pull out my phone to use as a flashlight and shine it around the space.
There are boxes stacked everywhere, old furniture, and even a few old trunks that look like they haven't been opened in years.
I step carefully between the boxes, trying not to knock anything over.
Veronica follows behind me, her breath warm on my neck as she peers over my shoulder to see where I'm going.
A floorboard creaks beneath my foot, and I freeze, worried that I'm about to fall through.
"Keep going," Veronica says, her hand still resting on my lower back.
I edge forward again, my phone's light casting long shadows across the cluttered attic floor.
We make our way deeper into the attic, the air growing thick and close.
I can feel sweat forming on my brow, but I don't want to wipe it away and leave a smudge on my phone's screen.
Suddenly, Veronica stops in her tracks.
"What is it?"
I ask, turning to look at her.
She points to a large trunk with brass fittings that looks like it hasn't been opened in years.
The dust covering it is thick, and cobwebs hang from the edges. I walk over to the trunk and run my fingers across the top of it.
The dust is so thick that I can barely feel the intricate engravings underneath.
I brush away as much of the dust as I can, revealing a beautiful pattern of flowers and leaves.
The latch on the front of the trunk is old but still looks sturdy enough to keep it closed.
I wonder what could be inside that someone would go to so much trouble to keep locked away.
"Open it," Veronica whispers in my ear.
I hesitate for a moment, unsure if I should disturb whatever is inside this trunk.
"Why do you want to see what's in here so badly?" I ask, glancing back at her.
"Because," she says, her voice low and urgent, "your parents aren't who you think they are."
"What do you mean?" I ask, my heart pounding as I fumble with the latch.
With trembling fingers, I work the rusty latch until it finally gives way with a sharp click.
The trunk's heavy lid groans open, releasing a cloud of dust that makes me cough.
Inside, yellowed envelopes and faded photographs spill out, some tied with frayed ribbons.
I pick up the first bundle, but Veronica snatches it from my hands.
She unfolds a letter, her eyes scanning quickly.
"Just as I thought," she mutters, showing me a black-and-white photo.
It shows my father, much younger than I've ever seen him, standing with Veronica and another woman who looks exactly like my mother.
But the date on the back of the photo is wrong – it's years before I was born.
"This can't be right," I say, staring at the photo in disbelief.
Veronica shakes her head, her eyes locked on mine. "Your father had a life before you knew him, and it looks like your mother did too."
"But why would they hide this from me?" I ask, feeling a mix of confusion and betrayal.
I clutch the photo with trembling fingers, studying the three smiling faces.
Veronica settles beside me on the dusty attic floor, her shoulder pressing against mine as she traces the edge of the photo.
After a moment of silence, I finally ask the question that's been burning in my mind.
"What do you have to do with my father?"
I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Veronica takes the photo from my hands and holds it up to catch the dim light filtering through the attic vent.
Her blue hair falls loose from its bun as she tilts her head, considering her answer.
The silence stretches between us until she finally lowers the photo and turns to face me.
"I'm your sister," she says, her voice steady and unflinching.
I stare at her in shock, trying to make sense of her words.
"Sister?"
I repeat, my voice shaking.
Veronica nods, her expression serious.
"Yes," she says, her voice unwavering.
"I'm your sister."
Before I can respond, heavy footsteps echo from downstairs.
Veronica's head snaps towards the attic entrance, her playful demeanor instantly replaced with fear.
She grabs my wrist and pulls me to my feet, dragging me towards the small window at the far end of the attic.
"Come on," she whispers urgently.
I try to resist, but her grip tightens painfully around my wrist.
The footsteps grow louder, reaching the second floor and then the stairs leading to the attic.
Veronica frantically works at the rusted latch on the window while I glance nervously between her and the attic entrance.
My heart pounds in my chest as I hear the footsteps reach the hallway below us.
I throw my weight against the window alongside Veronica, rust flaking off as metal groans against metal.
The footsteps grow louder, reaching the top of the attic stairs.
Veronica's fingers dig into my arm as we force the window wider.
Cool evening air rushes in, carrying the scent of rain.
The window frame shudders, then gives with a sharp crack.
Veronica yanks me toward the opening just as light floods the attic behind us.
I glimpse the steep roof tiles beyond the window, slick with earlier rain.
I hear wood splintering as the floorboards groan beneath our feet.
Veronica yanks me toward the window, but I plant my feet, refusing to follow.
The attic floor sags, sending boxes sliding.
A deafening crack echoes through the space as a support beam gives way.
The floor drops several inches, and I stumble against an old dresser.
Dust and splinters rain down as a massive hole opens up near the attic entrance.
Through the growing gap, I glimpse my parents' bedroom below.
Veronica's grip tightens, and with a final, desperate pull, we leap into the night.
I land hard on the wet grass beside Veronica, my ankle twisting beneath me.
Through the rain, I see her sprint toward the front yard.
Rising shakily, I limp back to the house and find the front door unlocked.
The sound of destruction draws me upstairs.
In my parents' bedroom, chunks of attic floor litter their bed.
The old dresser has crashed through, landing at an angle that exposes previously hidden floorboards.
Behind scattered debris, I spot an iron ring set into the wood.
I grasp it and pull, revealing a hidden staircase descending into darkness.