“Dad, this isn’t the state trail,” I said.
“Shortcut,” he said brightly. “Beautiful view. You’ll love it.”
His smile was stretched thin—like a mask pulled too tight.
We walked along an unmarked trail until the trees opened onto a cliff.
The drop was brutal.
A vertical plunge into jagged forest.
I instinctively pulled Aiden back.
“Too close, buddy.”
Dad placed a hand on Aiden’s shoulder—far too tightly.
“Let me show him the drop,” he said.
The hairs on my arms rose.
I stepped forward.
“Dad, stop. This isn’t funny.”
Then Evan moved beside me, gripping my arm hard enough to bruise.
“Natalie,” he murmured, “there’s something we need to do.”
His eyes were ice.
I jerked away, heart pounding.
“Aiden! Come here now!”
But Dad lifted my son off the ground.
“NO!” I screamed.
My mother stepped behind me, voice soft and chilling:
“You always had a good heart, sweetheart. But sometimes… sacrifices are necessary.”
Then she shoved me.
Hard.
I stumbled, gravel sliding beneath my boots.
Evan lunged and pushed again.
Aiden screamed, “MOM!”
I leapt toward him—caught his jacket—
Then Evan slammed both hands into my back.
We went over.