My knees gave way, and I grasped the table—only for it to slide away. The floor rose to meet me, darkness pressing in.

And then, in a moment of sheer instinct, I made a choice: I let my body go limp, but kept my mind sharp.

I landed on the rug by the couch, cheek pressed into the faintly detergent-scented fibers.

Caleb’s small body slumped beside me with a soft whimper, then stillness. Every instinct screamed to grab him, shake him, scream—but I stayed frozen.

I listened.

Ethan’s chair scraped back.

He stepped forward slowly, careful not to disturb us. His shadow fell over me, his shoe nudging my shoulder—testing, probing.

“Good,” he whispered.

He picked up his phone, and I heard his footsteps recede toward the hallway, his voice low, urgent, and relieved.

“It’s done,” he said.

“They ate it. They’ll both be gone soon.”

A woman’s voice crackled over the speaker, sharp with excitement. ”

Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he replied. ”

I followed the dose exactly. It’ll look like an accident. I’ll call 911 afterward… too late to save them.”

A sigh of relief came from the line. ”

Finally… we can stop hiding.”

Ethan exhaled, a long-held breath escaping at last. “