Under Grandma's Roof

The air felt thick and heavy, like it was pressing down on everyone in the room.

No one spoke at first—just the sound of shallow breathing, the faint hum of the refrigerator, and the smell of blood still clinging to the walls.

Everyone stared at Grandma.

Chuck stood near her, his shirt stained, his face blank but his hands twitching.

Al finally broke the silence. His voice shook.

“What’s going on? I’m so confused. You had us come to a funeral; to sit with an empty urn?”

Grandma sighed, long and deep, like she’d been carrying the weight of that breath for years.

“It’s a long story,” she said quietly.

Evie’s voice trembled. “I don’t understand. I was there—until the end.”

Grandma turned her gaze to her, calm but sharp. “You were here, but I told you to leave. I said I’d call about the funeral.” She paused, her eyes darting toward Chuck. “After you left, Chuck and I handled your grandpa.

It’s what he wanted. It’s what he asked for.”

Kerry groaned from the floor, sitting up slowly. Her head throbbed, and her vision blurred. The smell of iron—blood—hit her nose, thick and metallic. She looked down and saw Maranda’s son lying motionless, his blood pooling beside John’s. A strangled sob left her throat.

Evie’s eyes filled with fury. “Did my mother want to be buried out there too?”

Grandma snapped, her tone sharp as a knife. “You will never understand.”

Evie’s voice rose, breaking with emotion. “You’re right—I’ll never understand why you made Maranda marry all those men just to kill them! I’ll never understand how you let Grandpa have a child with his own daughter—and then kill her! And then make me take care of him after everything he did to my mom and me!”

Tears streamed down her face, her voice hoarse. “He said I’d get money for what he put me through. I deserve that money!”

Everyone was frozen. Al’s eyes were wide, his face pale. “Are you serious?” he whispered.

Grandma’s jaw trembled, but her voice stayed steady. “I had no choice. Your grandpa had the money and the power. If you were in my shoes, you’d have done the same.”

Al shook his head slowly. “Never.”

Kerry wiped her tears with the back of her bloody hand. “Never,” she echoed softly.

Evie sobbed uncontrollably. “This is why I made sure I’d never have a child again,” she cried. “If there’s no money, I’m leaving. You’ll never see me again.”

Grandma straightened her back, her eyes like cold glass. “Let’s clean this up first. Then we’ll figure things out.”

“There’s nothing to figure out,” Evie said, her voice trembling but fierce. “Like I said if you don’t have that hundred thousand, I’m gone.”

Grandma’s tone hardened. “No, I don’t have it, but you’re not leaving until this is cleaned up.”

Evie laughed bitterly, wiping her eyes. “I am leaving.”

She hugged Maranda one last time, then walked down the hallway. The old wooden floor creaked beneath her as she went to her room. The others heard her zipper sliding, the clink of her purse strap.

Grandma’s voice turned sharp. “She’s not leaving. You all know too much now.”

Al and Rick exchanged terrified glances and began edging toward their room. Before they could move farther, Chuck pulled a pistol from his waistband.

Two deafening gunshots cracked through the house.

Al and Rick dropped instantly, the smell of gunpowder thick and bitter in the air. Maranda’s teenagers screamed and tried to run out of the front door, but Chuck’s hand was steady, his face blank as stone. Two more shots echoed, and silence fell again.

Kerry pressed her hands to her mouth, her body shaking.

Maranda grabbed John’s gun from the floor. Her vision swam as she stood, trembling. She raised the weapon.

“You monster,” she whispered, and fired.

The bullet hit Chuck in the shoulder. He staggered, then turned and shot her in the head. The room went silent again except for the ringing in Kerry’s ears.

Kerry lifted her hands slowly, her breath coming in gasps. “Please… don’t kill me,” she begged. “I’ll do whatever you say.”

Chuck looked to Grandma. She gave a single nod.

He moved toward the hallway, toward Evie’s room. The door was open. The curtains fluttered in the cold wind. The window was wide open.

“She’s gone,” Chuck said. “Out the window.”

Grandma’s voice was low, tired, almost relieved. “Oh well. Let’s get to cleaning up.”

The smell of bleach soon filled the air as Kerry began scrubbing the walls and mopping the blood-streaked floor. Chuck dragged the bodies one by one toward the back door.

Grandma stood on the porch, watching the gray morning light spread across the yard. The shovel struck the dirt with a dull thud as Chuck dug. The sound of soil hitting wood echoed softly in the cool air.

And behind her, the old urn sat quietly on the table—empty, just like her heart.