There's Blood

Kerry looked at John and Maranda, her hands trembling as her lips curved into a nervous smile. Evie’s eyes narrowed, reading the tension in the air, waiting for Kerry to speak.

“I’m pregnant,” Kerry said softly, then louder—“by John.”

The words cracked through the room like thunder. For a second, no one breathed.

Maranda’s face went pale, her eyes glassy and wide. The air grew thick, heavy with disbelief. Then, in one swift, horrifying motion, Maranda grabbed a steak knife from the table.

Before anyone could move, she drove it straight into John’s eye.

A wet, sickening sound filled the room as John screamed and stumbled backward, blood pouring down his cheek. The metallic smell of it filled the air. Maranda’s voice broke into a furious shriek.

“Why do you always sleep with my husbands?”

She lunged at Kerry, knocking her to the floor, fists flying. Kerry screamed, her voice muffled by Maranda’s furious blows. Chuck rushed in, trying to pull them apart, but Maranda was wild—sobbing, cursing, swinging with everything inside her.

Maranda’s teenage sons ran in, their faces frozen in shock.

“Mom!” one of them shouted, grabbing her arm, but she yanked away, lost in her rage.

Chaos exploded through the house. Al and Rick came running back into the room just as Evie darted toward Grandma. With shaking hands, she pressed the knife against Grandma’s neck.

“Where is my money, really?” Evie hissed.

Grandma didn’t flinch.

Her voice was calm, almost eerie. “You’ll have to kill me, sweetheart.”

Everything blurred together—the screaming, the crying, the pounding of feet on the floor. Then—

BAM.

The gunshot ripped through the noise like lightning through glass.

Everything went still.

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Maranda’s older son—her high school senior—staggered, eyes wide, clutching his side. Blood bloomed through his shirt, dark and fast. He dropped to his knees, then crumpled to the floor.

John, half-blind and covered in blood, had fired the gun before collapsing, dead within seconds.

Maranda’s scream was raw, animalistic, echoing through the house. She fell beside her son, grabbing him, cradling his face as blood bubbled from his mouth.

“I don’t want to die, Mama,” he whispered, his voice trembling, wet.

Maranda’s tears dripped onto his cheek. “I love you so much.”

But she could see it in his eyes.

He gasped for breath, his chest rising shallowly. “I love—” His words faded, his eyes glazing as his last breath slipped from his body.

Maranda’s scream tore through the air again, a sound that didn’t seem human.

Evie dropped the knife and ran to her, wrapping her arms around Maranda, but Maranda could only sob incoherent words, her voice cracked and broken.

In the corner, Grandma was crying softly, rocking herself ,but even through the tears, her mind was already moving.

“Chuck,” she said suddenly, voice sharp. “We have to clean this up.”

Maranda looked up, face streaked with blood and tears.

“What are you talking about? This is my son! He’s not going to the backyard with the rest! Grandpa isn't even back there.”

Grandma’s eyes flickered—cold, calculating. “Your grandpa is back there.”

Maranda froze. “No… Grandpa was cremated.”