Bengali aunties photos

I (20M) had a bestfriend (19M) of more than 8 years, I am from a muslim country and I am gay, my best friend is also from my country, he's also queer but he is deep in the nile river.
We met when we were in 12 in school, we bacame best friends and did all things bestfriends do. At the time I knew I was gay, but I did not know if he was also gay or not.
We were classmates for 3 years and then him and his family moved abroad. For 2 years I had no contact with him. But after two years he found my contacts and we were in touch again. It was like we had always been in contact. He was my best friend. So naturally I wanted to tell him about who I was the way I told my other close friends who I could trust and I wanted to tell him about a classmate I had a crush on.
Upon telling him, he immediately denied it and said that I was not gay (as if he knows I am not). Here's how the conversation went: "Hey bestie just so you know I am gay and I like boys" "What? No way you are not gay! I also like a boy but I am not gay so you are not gay as well!!" "That made no sense? How can you like a boy a person from the same sex and not be queer?"
He went on a rant on how it is just lust and how he has not done anything with the same sex so according to him he was not "gay". The conversation came to the boiling point when I threatened to cut ties even though he had judt found me a week ago. Then he agreed to respect MY identity.
I felt bad for him so I tried as much as I can to help him come to acceptance with who he is. And to a point I was successful. He was coming to term that he cannot control his feelings and who he loves. I helped him get over a 5 year old crush on a boy that was still back in our school.
He was getting comfortable, we would joke about things and put on lil scarfs and pretend we are middle aged khalas(aunties), gossiping and cussing each other out over the phone, it was funny and harmless, might I mention that the dress up was his idea.
Unfortunately his father found out about these photos by invading his privacy, my ex friend was so scared he wanted to k word himself, after lots of convincing he stopped thinking about it. And his father told him to not dress like that again after he made some excuses. But his father was restrict on him.
After that I think he started feeling guilty for having feelings for boys. He started talking about how he will not be able to keep it a secret for long. I tried to help him as much as I could from thousands of miles away, think practically, how you cannot do this until you are not independent, cuz it can be dangerous, but to no avail he went and told his mother.
After that he slowly started mentioning how he's a top in the most random times. I did not think too much of it. Then he started telling me that he was Bisexual and hoe he also likes girls. I did not know if he was actually bisexual or was him and his mother gaslighting him into liking girls. Cuz I had never seen him talk about girls. He then became very distant.
I noticed he would block me at times and then text me back when he wanted to talk. He would only message me when he needed to talk about something that he wanted. I dont know from when but he stopped prioritizing me and how I was feeling. It was always about him. When I needed him, he was never there.
He slowly turned into an incel. Idolizing Andrew Tate. He pushed me towards the edge when he made a subtle racist remark about my ethnic group. Knowing How sensitive the topic of ethnicity was to me.
That's when I cut off all contacts with him. I could not believe my best friend of almost a decade thought so little of my ethnicity. I cut him off and went with my life and the struggles of it (which I have to tell is alot).
After 9 months he messaged me again. I felt bad for cutting him off like that so I started up a conversation with him. But to my surprise my best friend had turned into a full on incel. He told me how he is straight now. And he is homophobic. And told me he respects my decisions (which makes no sense, how can you hate gay people and "respect" my decision?). That was when I knew I had enough of him. I blocked him. I cannot believe I was friends with a guy like him. I tried to help him I guess some people do not want to be helped.
Do you think I made the right decision?

I Accepted a Job to Film on the Dark Web
Man, I am pumped to tell you chronically online content addicts my story. Wait is that too mean of an intro? Will this get taken down for harassment since I painted too accurate a picture of the people on this site? Sorry, everyone, I’m sure you all smell like an expensive bakery and have touched grass this morning. Anyway, I promise I have something interesting. It even involves the dark web you uncreative writers cream yourselves over! I mean, totally real people speaking about their strangely similar experiences. Okay, fine I’ll stop bullying you through the screen before you click off.
This all started when I was seven years old and my parents were killed in front of me in an anti-indigenous hate crime, but let's be real you don’t care. I’m just some annoying Cherokee kid with dead parents so I’ll skip to the good parts. I spent years in an orphanage, gradually becoming more interested in death and violence. As bad as it is, I went out of my way to expose myself to that content in the hopes of desensitizing myself. Which ended up working too well, since now I’m obsessed with causing and viewing pain, though I don’t find any joy in hurting myself.
I got adopted at twelve and after a few months of staying at my new family’s home on the reservation, I went with them to a state sweatier than the average Reddit user, California. Long story short, both of my caretakers, whom I referred to as Uncle and Auntie because they could never be my parents, died. Leaving me in the care of their older son, who I call cousin. I’m not stupid enough to give up any real names, so I’ll call him Brick, cause he’s as dumb as one. He was in his early 20s when he was tasked with taking care of me and is the world’s worst excuse for a babysitter.
I’m almost always alone at the apartment, with him only coming by to drop off supplies and stay for a few hours so the neighbors don’t get too worried. Unless I get in trouble at school, then he’d suddenly give a shit. It's useful because he doesn't about the gory stuff I look at, but some display of interest would be nice. Oh well, ninety percent of the population sucks so he’s just part of the majority. Now, with that said, you’ll be able to understand the perfect storm that led me here. During my time on the deep web, I found a particular website that caught my eye. They had new footage relatively consistently and they were the easiest for me to access since I didn't go too far into the dark web, especially with all the honey pots lying around.
I even bought a couple of files for myself to study and admire. One thing irritated me though, the cameraman. He was always sobbing, breathing, shaking, or some combination of those. It seriously killed the vibe of the killings. Something I commented on under many videos, often saying I would do a better job filming. A choice that in hindsight was me asking to end up in one of those recordings. I didn't think anything of it at the time. I was mostly the only one who commented but I was sure they wouldn't care. I was embarrassingly wrong.
I was staying up like usual, but it was past one AM on a school night, and back then that was a lot so I tried to sleep. Closing my eyes, tossing and turning, the works. I had just started drifting off when I heard the front door open. I remained calm but immediately found it weird since Brick never showed up this late. The thuds of the individual's feet grew louder as they got closer to my bedroom. I tried to convince myself it wasn't a stranger, especially since they got in with ease, but I knew that was wishful thinking.
They hummed as they opened my door. My dumbass had left it unlocked. I remained on my side, trying to look like I was asleep. They turned on the flashlight of their phone, shining it in my face. It was hard but I stayed still while they traced it over my features. I could tell they were smiling as they clicked their tongue.
“Heh, I knew it was a brat,” they whispered to themselves, pulling tangles out of my hair. Something I struggled not to groan from. They pulled up the hair over my ear and got so close spit got on my ear lobe.
“I know you’re awake kid,” they murmured, putting a blade to my neck. I let them grab my shoulder and move me onto my back, I knew how to fight but I wasn't about to take that big a risk with the position they had me in.
“You think you’re so cool saying you can do better than our guy.” they snickered, kneeling, their flashlight still shining in my face.
“Do you seriously believe that?” they questioned, moving the light away.
“Yeah, I do.” I stood my ground, they might have been intimidating but I wasn't gonna let that stop me from being honest.
“I wouldn't sound like I’m gonna piss myself every time it gets gory. I’m confident I could get better footage too, getting up close is something I’ve fantasized about.”
They clicked their tongue again and ran their finger over the bridge of my nose.
”Well, I know you’re a big fan of what we do, and you’re confidence makes me think you got something to back those claims up, so how’d you like a deal?”
I was surprised by how civil they were being aside from the touching and weapon against my throat.
“What kind of deal?” I asked, for all I knew this guy wanted me to lick their feet or some weird shit like that. They placed a finger underneath my eye, tracing a half moon with their nail.
“You have till this Friday to film a video of you killing an animal and put it on a flash drive that I’ll pick up here. If it impresses me and the crew we’ll hire ya with a handsome salary.” They began, moving their hand down to my cheek.
“But if you don't show, or it doesn't meet our standards, then I’m fucking up one of the parts of your face.” They warned, pinching my skin harshly.
“And if I say no to this deal?”
They put their hand over my mouth, scratching my lips.
“That’s cute, if you say no I’ll just slit your throat.” they grinned.
“Or rip it open with my teeth if you got a preference,” they smirked, before running their tongue across their sharp teeth.
“Okay, since I have no choice I’ll go with it, but I’m telling you now I can give you something way better than what you likely expect of me.” I prefaced, looking into their sunken eyes. They scratched my scalp, including the side of my head that was shaved.
“Good choice, I’ll be back to pick it up and if you're not here I’ll assume you don’t have the video. I genuinely wish you luck, because you’ll need it.” they removed the blade from my neck and walked away. I sat still for a few minutes in the dark, processing what had happened and wondering how they got into my apartment with such ease. I was confident I could blow their sniveling excuse of a cameraman out of the water, but I was worried about the people I was getting caught up with.
Sure, I had been on a lot of gore sites over the years but I was always just watching and occasionally commenting. Compared to most in the scene I wasn't much of a threat. I could defend myself and have contemplated killing for years but I hadn't murdered anyone or worse. Plus, I am part of way too many targeted groups to not be constantly at risk. Teenage, fem-leaning, two-spirit, indigenous kid with trauma? Yeah, I might as well be walking sign screaming “Hate crime me”.
So yeah, there was a lot to worry about. Regardless, I couldn't let that fear hold me back. I had a job to do and a group of sickos to appease. The next morning was rough, I got no sleep cause I’d spent all night brainstorming. I barely mustered the energy to change and drank straight mouthwash instead of brushing my teeth. Slogging onto the bus with drool on my cheek, I went to the back like usual. No one sat there cause, the seats were extra worn down, and I scared off anyone who attempted to with my active, rabies-infected bitch face. That day was different though.
I blanked on his name and where I knew him from, but I recognized his wavy hair and prominent curved nose. He glanced at each seat on the bus, before somehow settling on my area. He tried to give me space but ultimately seated himself beside me after realizing it was the only spot that didn't look like it would give him cancer. I glared at him as I did with everyone, but it didn't phase him.
“You know you could pick anywhere else right?” I murmured. He stared at the floor, then at me.
“I’m aware, but a few months ago I started a mission to sit on every part of this bus, and this is the last place.” he smiled, his lips softly curving at the sides.
“What’s the point of that?”
His mouth moved into a more neutral position, but his eyes kept smiling.
“I just thought it would be neat to see the same place from a bunch of different perspectives.” he took out his phone and snapped a photo from the point of view where he was sitting. Maybe my sleepiness made my bitch face less effective, cause he hadn't shown a hint of fear, which kind of annoyed me.
“That’s cool I guess, but I wouldn't do that if I were you. I’ve done some back here alone that would make your skin crawl.” in hindsight my attempt at unnerving him just made me sound like a pervert, which is probably why he held back laughter. Trying to hide a chuckle by clearing his throat.
“Hey, it's not my business what you do, no matter how Haram it is. It’s your life so that’s between you and whatever you believe in. Just don’t shake hands with me.” he joked, playfully putting his hands up. Strangely, I remembered his name at that moment.
“Oh shit, you’re Abdul! We have art together.” I sat up, haphazardly slamming my hand down on my leg.
“Uh yeah, I’ve seen some of your paintings, they’re pretty cool. I like the way you texture them, I’m trying to work on that.” he complimented, seeming more weirded out by my sudden energy than my accidental insinuation. I felt a little stupid for yelling his name but decided not to dwell on it.
“Thanks, you’re stuff is nice, and you’re good at shading.”
He stretched his arms while thanking me. We talked for a few more minutes, taking jabs at each other throughout. Turns out he was better at being an asshole than his artsy charismatic appearance made me think. The thing setting our insults apart being that you could tell he was a loving person underneath. It was the nicest conversation I had with anyone in a while. Though he could tell I was tired so he quieted down, letting me sleep, waking me when we got to school. We went our separate ways until the last two periods we shared. All that time, I spent my remaining energy plotting how I was going to handle the video. What I’d kill, record with, and how to dispose of the evidence. It was a lot to consider, but through three classes I devised a plan.
I’d find a stray around my apartment complex and take it out in my room. Record it on a portable camera since I broke the ones on my phone, no, I will not be answering how that happened. Then once I had my footage I’d put the body in a trash bag, throw it in the complex’s garbage, and clean the blood off my floor. It didn't seem like Brick would come by so he wasn't a factor I thought I’d have to consider. The plan was almost too easy, but I decided to believe in Occam’s razor. I got so lost in thought that by the time I reached Art, which was my second-to-last period, I didn't process that we were moving seats.
“She called your name,” Abdul reminded me. Our teacher placed us next to each other at our four-person table. The two girls sitting with us were already friends, so I didn't bother to say anything, but I was interested in talking to him more.
“So, what do you think of this assignment?” He shrugged, taking out his sketchbook.
“I’m not that good at drawing people, but the idea of combining two people’s faces into a portrait seems interesting. Any ideas on who you’ll pick?”
“Probably the members of the music duo Brain Tumor, they’re my favorite artists and they both look weird as hell.”
“Wow way to talk about your favorites, if that’s what you say about them I can‘t imagine what you have to say about me.” he joked, pulling up reference pictures.
“First, it’s not an insult, second I don’t have anything to say about you. Brain and Tumor have features and styles that make them stand out. Sure they’re ugly, but it just adds to their visual charm. Hot people are boring, there’s nothing to pick at.” I explained, unzipping my bag.
“Oh, so you’re saying you think I’m hot.”
His comment wasn’t serious but it kind of got to me.
“Shit, that’s not what I meant, I was trying to say you’re boring. All hot people are boring, but not all boring people are hot, okay?” I explained, flipping to a clean page.
“Alright, but if I’m so bland then why talk to me?”
I hesitated, contemplating how much of a dick I was gonna be.
“Because it means you probably need some spice in your life, which I can provide.”
He began sketching a head on his paper.
“I like spices, but I feel like you’re the kind of person to dump a cabinet’s worth onto me.”
I flicked my pencil over to his side of the desk, putting on a mocking grin.
“Aww, you scared I’m gonna get you into trouble?”
He picked up the pencil and started using it, putting his on my side.
“No, ‘cause I’m good at setting boundaries. I’m more concerned that you’ll get annoyed with how unafraid of you I am.”
I stared at him for a moment, I hadn't expected to hear that.
“Jeez, man you didn't have to read me like that.”
He shrugged, observing the red paint from past projects that lay on my pencil.
“It's not hard to figure out, just this morning you were trying to push me away on the bus. Lucky, or unlucky, for you I want you to have a friend and you seem like a fun person.”
“Wait are you saying I have no friends?” I squinted at him.
“Well, do you?”
I didn't answer.
“If your response is silence I suggest you take up my offer.”
I was stunned, to be honest. No one had offered to be my friend since 6th grade, and that didn't last long. Of course, I accepted it, but for the rest of the period, there was an awkwardness in my mind. As pathetic as it sounds I wasn't used to others genuinely enjoying my company like he did. Which was partly by design cause I get joy out of scaring people away, but still. I forgot how it felt to have conversations about normal things like art. He had such a nice smile too, usually when I see a grin I want to slap it off, but I liked his. His voice was also nice, it’s hard to describe what in particular but it was easy on the ears.
Okay, I’m starting to get off-topic. I’ll skip to the important part. Toward the end of class, he started talking about how he was interested in filmmaking and got a portable video camera as a gift at last year’s Eid. He didn't have it on him, but he showed me a picture.
“Heh, that’s funny, I bought the same one a month ago.” I pointed out.
“Yeah, it's a popular model, I’m still getting the hang of it though cause I’m so used to using my phone.”
“Well, maybe I could bring you over to my place or vice versa after school and I can help you out.” I suggested.
He smiled, putting his phone back in his pocket.
“I thought you said you’ve only had it for a month? You know I can always look up tutorials from trained professionals.” he reminded me with a notable smugness that I'd used with him before.
“Well those guys are stuffy and I’m a fast learner.”
He redirected his attention back to his page, picking his pencil up.
“Alright, I suggest we go somewhere public instead. You’re not exactly the kind of person I want to bring home to my parents right away. Plus they always need to meet my friends and their guardians before I hang out at their home.”
I gave an exaggerated sigh, stretching my back.
“Aw man, looks like we can’t get high in my murder pit during our first hangout.”
He didn't respond for a solid few seconds.
“Wait, you do know I'm joking right?”
He shrugged, the smile in his eyes appearing again.
“I mean, one of those things is a little less believable than the other.” he snickered, and I laughed with him.
We set up a time and a date, which is where I screwed myself. He ended up being busy with projects from his other classes and family which just left us with Friday, the same day I had to submit the video. Now, did I tell him I wouldn't be able to make it? No, of course not, because I decided to be stupid and even more overconfident. I said that I’d one hundred percent be able to hang out with him after school like I didn't have a mutilator who was going to drop by my place at an unknown time.
The rest of the day went over fine but that bad timing led me to feel like a dick later. When I got home I was able to write out my plan, even sketching a few specifics of what I’d do. It was more exciting than when I’d been brainstorming, but this is when the gravity of the situation began to set in. When I said I’d fantasized about killings I meant it. I mean my teddy with twenty-five stab wounds should say enough. Regardless this would be the first time real blood was on my hands.
It made me feel powerful, but a little afraid. I’ve heard stories of people thinking that it would be an awesome experience and then feeling like shit. I doubted I’d be one of those people but still. Plus, I didn't exactly trust the guy who gave me this job. There was a good chance that this whole situation was rigged and they’d kill me no matter how good the video was. Or worse turn me into the feds and expose my collection. Honestly, if that happened I’d probably eat a shot to avoid going to jail. Wait, can I say that on this platform? Okay to the mods, that was a joke, I want to live a long life. Ugh, I’m doing a terrible job of staying on track. The point is there was a lot up in the air despite it being a matter of life or death.
I knew I’d go through with it but it was still a lot less straightforward than it initially seemed. I wracked my brain to remember where most of the cats stayed and tried to come up with a good way to lure one without raising suspicion. This also proved harder than first thought because I didn't think to account for the cat man, an old guy who lived alone and fed all the cats in our dingy complex while also housing a few. Knowing how obsessive he was he’d probably notice if one of them disappeared. Then again not all the cats return consistently or at all. It makes more sense that he’d think one of them was run over rather than slaughtered. It was getting late again so I rested my head for a moment, a bad move cause I ended up falling asleep at my desk. Not even changing out of the clothes I’d worn before, I woke up late and barely caught the bus the next morning.
I went to my usual spot but Abdul had already taken it. He patted the area next to it, which he’d covered in a towel, a smart move knowing how nasty it was. People gave me a few dirty looks as normal, which I smiled at. I stretched, my mind slightly less out of it than the previous morning.
“Uh, you do realize that-”
“Yeah, I know I’m wearing the same clothes.”
Abdul looked me up and down, his eyes remaining soft, but with a mix of concern and judgment. He set his backpack down and took off his sweater handing it to me.
“Dude what are you-”
“Look I don't know what led to you not being able to change but I think you should at least have a fresh top.”
I was surprised he was offering me something to wear but I took it.
“Uh, thanks, I’ll change into it later.”
He nodded as I put it in my backpack.
“You know you didn't have to do that.” I reminded him.
“Well there’s a lot of stuff I don’t have to do, but I do it because I want to, and I wanted to help you out.”
He smiled, his face still warmer than an Arizona summer. I got a strange feeling in my chest at that moment, I still can’t tell if it was good or bad.
“Well, thanks, I'll give it back to you tomorrow.”
We talked a little more and he mentioned something that caught my attention.
“Have you heard about all the animals that have been turning up dead?”
My eyes widened with surprise.
“No, I haven't, when did you hear about that?”
He pulled on his long-sleeve shirt.
“My sister said her friend who works at a shelter noticed a bunch of animals were getting adopted by people around the same time, and since then gore videos with them have been showing up. She found out through her co-worker who was emailed it by some random creep.”
I covered my mouth and looked away to hide the smile growing on my face. He had just given me the perfect cover-up without knowing. Now if I killed an animal people had an entire violent ring to connect it to instead of me! I stayed quiet for a minute because I could tell he’d likely see through any phony sad sounds I made.
“Oh wow, that’s awful, do you think they’ll ever find out the people behind it?”
He sighed, running his hand through his wavy hair.
“I hope so, for now, all we can do is pray that no more animals get hurt.”
I couldn't contain my grin as he said that so sincerely like animals and people didn't die constantly and that taking down one group would somehow stop the issue.
“Is there some joke I don’t get?” he furrowed his brow.
“Uh, no, sorry I smile when nervous.”
His gaze softened again, and he didn't press further.
His bringing up the animal killings ended up being the exact push I needed to get my hands dirty. I’d spent the entire day before planning so it was time to put that plan into action. I stole some cat treats that the cat man had laid out and spread them around my apartment which was on the bottom floor. Waiting for one of them to take the bate outside my window was pretty boring but one of them came after a few minutes. A scraggly brown and black cat with a tuft of fur missing on one side of his head. It's messed up but I felt like a little less of an asshole for taking him in since he looked like he was already struggling. I scooped him up and he didn't attempt to fight back.
“Hey there buddy” I waved, feeding him some more food. His eyes had a lot of crust on them, it was kinda gross but I don’t have the right to say with how often I wash my jeans. After a minute or two he let me pet him. I knew making any kind of attachment was bad but I thought it was the right thing to do so he’d fall into a sense of security. I was just about to take him into my room when the door opened.
“Hey, I’m back with groceries!” my shithead cousin announced with two plastic bags in his hands. He looked down to see me with the cat, his eyebrows raising.
“Aw come on, you know we can’t afford a pet.”
He groaned placing the bags on a table and unloading them.
“I know, but he doesn't look like he’s got a lot of life in him I at least want to help him feel better before he kicks the bucket!”
Brick rolled his eyes, putting the cereal box on top of the fridge
“Jeez, did you even think about what diseases he might have? His eyes look puffy what if he has something that can get you sick?”
He had valid concerns which was surprising since he’s usually stupid, but I was still annoyed with him.
“I’m sure he’s fine, I’ll even try to wash him, just please let me hold onto him for a little.”
He folded his arms looking down at us.
“Have you even named him?”
I froze for a second, before using the first thing that came to mind, which ended up being pretty awful knowing my plans.
“Cash cow.” I blurted, awkwardly patting his head.
“Honestly that’s better than what I was expecting. I was sure you’d pick ‘Hellspawn Mcgee’ or something else corny.”
He meant to make fun of me but honestly, I would have named him that if I had more time.
“Ugh, anyway I got those dumb chips you like.”
He then pulled out a bag of the wrong chips.
“Dude those are the wrong ones, this is the third time you’ve mixed up the flavors.”
He threw them at me, scaring the cat slightly.
“Well, I pay for it so you shouldn't be so picky. Anyway, while I was in line I picked up something you might be into.”
He then tossed me a trashy teen magazine. One of my least favorite sorry excuses for an influencer on the cover.
“This is a joke, right?”
I couldn't believe my own adopted brother gave such little shit in my interests.
“I don't know, you decided to start being a girl for real this time so I thought the makeup tips on page ten would help you out.”
I scrunched my face at his comment.
“Dude I’ve been this way for years, just because I started wearing more makeup and dresses doesn't mean I’m more of a girl than when I didn't. I know you won’t get the two-spirit thing but come on.”
He shrugged, seeing me done with me even though he’d just shown up.
“Yeah well hey I’m trying. Anyway, just so you know a friend of mine is coming here Friday.”
My heart stopped.
“Wait why here? You live elsewhere why can’t you assholes go there or their place!”
He slammed his fist on the table.
“Will you shut the fuck up!”
He screamed with a phrase I’d grown numb to.
“I don't know, to be honest, something about wanting to move into this complex and this being a way to scout it out. I’m just letting you know now so you don’t act like a complete freak.”
“Jokes on you I’ll piss in whatever shitty beer you bring just cause you said that!”
I yelled back raising my voice higher than his. He face-palmed before putting the plastic bags in the drawer under the sink.
“Whatever, you and your ketamine-addict-looking cat have fun,” he told me while seating himself on the couch. I picked up the cat and walked into the bathroom to clean it. I closed the door and placed him in the dry tub. Using a small disposable mouthwash cup I got a little bit of water. I hadn't had a pet before so I wasn't sure how to approach the task. I dipped my fingers in the water and carefully pet it while pouring s small bit down his back. Any other cat would fight back but he just made pissed-off noises without doing anything.
I scrapped my old shampoo bottle and kneaded it into his thin fur. His skin was bumpy and dry beneath the hair so scrubbing it was uncomfortable. I made sure to avoid getting soap in its eyes but I did pull away some of the crust on its lids. His pupils were so clouded I was surprised that he could see at all, making me feel even more sure that he would be on its way out with or without me.
After drying him I set him on a beat-up shirt I wore when modifying clothes. He sunk his claws into it a few times, playing with a loose string. I ignored him for the rest of the night, hopping into the shower and changing for bed. His meows woke me up a few times but I tuned it out after a while, reminding myself that he wouldn’t be my cat for long.
The next day was Thursday and there wasn't a second that passed by where the weight of the murder I’d have to commit didn't weigh on me. I seriously shot myself in the foot by taking care of that scruffy, pubic hair pile. I was supposed to be hyped about killing it, after all, I’d dreamed and seen way worse than what I was going to do. Yet once I got home and started setting up I felt grosser with each step. I decided to record it in my bathroom instead of my bedroom so it would be harder to connect to me. I set down a few fabric scraps and a worn-out beach towel, placing it all inside a tub for easier cleanup later.
“Okay, I guess it's time,” I mumbled to myself. I brought the cat in and placed it down, setting up my camera once it was comfortable. I also wore my most generic clothes in addition to a mask, putting my hair in a bun for sanitation. When I saw the flicker of red showing that the camera was on I felt I was dreaming. I smiled, excited that I’d get to live out my violent desires. Yet, when I looked down at its pathetic frame and confused expression those urges left me.
I rationalized what I was doing, reminding myself how many animals die all the time and that I’d been forced into this, but it didn't help much in the end. I won’t get into it but under the pressure of impressing the group Cash Cow didn't go out as fast as I would have liked for a first task. Getting rid of the evidence was especially rough, the textures were pretty nasty, to put it mildly. It was surreal watching the blood go down the tub drain and gradually drip off my hands as I rinsed them. I couldn't conjure a single thought the entire time I cleaned it up.
Whether I was wringing out the clothes or putting the remains in plastic bags, it didn't matter. All I could focus on was the task at hand, with hints of disgust along the way. I ended up finishing at three AM. My hands were wrinkled and shook once I settled. I won’t deny that during the murder I didn't hate it. Slashing into something was fun and it made me feel strong. Still, it wasn't nearly as fulfilling as I expected it to be. Part of it was guilt, but it was mostly disappointment. I’d built it up for years and it wasn't earth shatteringly good or bad.
Overall, I expected to feel more, but it just left me hollow with an uncomfortable itch. There was no way I’d ever be able to see the tub the same way, hell I don’t think I’ll ever use it again. Luckily I almost always shower anyway so it's not too big of a deal. I watched a few horror game videos, trashed everything, changed and went to bed.
My scalp hurt like a bitch the morning since I kept my hair in that stupid bun. Despite getting less sleep than the past two days I held myself together a bit better in the morning. I brushed my teeth, changed, and had some fried bread before getting on the bus. Regardless I looked like complete shit and struggled to slump into my seat.
“Rough night?” Abdul asked
“Uh, yeah.” I quietly responded looking to the floor.
He frowned, looking at me with concern.
“You can talk about it if you're comfortable,” he assured me. I contemplated giving him a thinly veiled metaphor or vague explanation so he'd comfort me but stopped myself before my mouth could run a muck. He wouldn't be able to do much of anything and I don’t like opening up.
“Uhm, thanks but it's something I have to deal with alone.”
He nodded, respecting my boundaries.
“You know, I understand if you can’t hang out today it seems like you have a lot going on.”
I avoided eye contact with him as he spoke. For once I was feeling hints of guilt toward a person. I wanted to spend time with him, but I knew that I wasn't in the state to do that.
“Yeah, I think it’ll have to wait, I’m-” I cut myself off before apologizing. A fact about me that should surprise no one is that I hate apologizing. Even when I do feel kinda bad the act fills me with embarrassment.
“You what?” he asked, his eyes telling me that he knew what I was going to say.
“I’m emotionally not great.” I spat out in an admittedly poor attempt to get out of saying sorry. As always he remained calm but I could tell he saw through me.
“Okay, like I said I understand, whatever it is I hope you feel better.”
I told him thank you and we didn't speak for the rest of the day. At home I changed into more comfortable clothes and brushed my teeth. Unfortunately, I wasn't bouncing back from killing nearly as much as I expected.
“It wasn't even that bad! That thing was on its last legs anyway.” I grumbled to myself, smacking my forehead. I was feeling worse than when I did it which is weird. I ended up spontaneously decorating a ratty tie from the bottom of an accessory drawer to distract myself. It helped me get my mind off things, for a little. I had zero plan, just wanting to make something needlessly complex. Hours that felt like minutes passed and soon it was covered in patches, frills, and beads. I just tried it on when I heard the front door open.
“Man, that shit was wild!” I heard Brick laugh groggily. I didn't have to see or smell him to know he’d gotten lit. I rolled my eyes, closing my bedroom door.
“Hey, who’s there?” his friend asked, seemingly referring to me.
“Oh, that’s my little sis, don’t mind her she’s just on her emo shit!” he joked, which pissed me off for the petty reason that I didn't even listen or dress emo.
“Hey, that’s alright with me, I went through one of those phases,” they responded, their words less slurred than my cousin’s.
I fucked up and forgot to lock it when I closed it so they were able to swing it open, almost smacking my desk.
“Hey emo girl!” they waved as Brick haphazardly pulled them back.
“Okay, man, seriously I think she wants to be left alone.”
The way his friend looked at me made me uncomfortable. Like they’d snap my neck if I pissed them off. They clicked their tongue while stepping through the door frame.
“Alright, but I gotta say calling her an emo is inaccurate, they look like they watch gore and most emos just say they do.” they flashed a sharp toothy grin. At that moment I began to connect the dots.
“Easy, she’ll get pissy with you dude, now come on.” Brick warned tugging their opened button pushed him away. They looked me dead in the eyes.
“I don’t think she minds, in truth, I feel like we’ll have a lot to discuss later.” they smiled again, finally walking back into the living room. A chill ran up my spine when I saw them. The sharp teeth, New York accent, unsettling gaze, that motherfucker was the person who recruited me! They were able to get into my place so easily cause my dumbass cousin probably gave them a spare key or the opportunity to make one, and now they were a room away from me!
I dug my hands into my pillow as I contemplated what to do, no matter what happened next, I knew it was gonna be a rough visit.

First off, I'm a white guy. I just know a bunch of South Asian people. One thing I've noticed is that a lot of their parents and the people of their parents' generation is that they will take like 50 photos of something and upload ALL of them rather than pick the best take or something. Is there a reason for this? Is it cultural?
Context, particular family in this example are middle-class Bengali.

Me and my husband recently got married (Both 30) During the planning process we decided that we wanted to do our wedding on a budget and keep it personal to us. We chose a local venue, made our own decor and planned the whole day ourselves with the help of our amazing MOH. For the wedding breakfast, only 90 seats were available so had to choose our guests carefully, and in the evening we could increase our guest numbers. After so much back and forth, we decided it would not be possible to have everyone's children at the wedding except from those that are related to us, especially since between our guests there would have been over 20 children, most under 10 years old. In addition, while we love all of our friends kids, they would not have appreciated the day as much as the adult would have. We let our friends know and they were very understanding, some also admitted that they would have preferred a child free night with their SO to relax.
My friend (Let's call her Stacey) had met when we were 10, but hadn't talked as much prior to wedding planning, so I had decided to invite her to the evening of the wedding. Stacey was a single mum to a six year old who had been in a relationship that had ended badly, which had led to a toxic custody battle on her side. She would often rant in front of her kid and stretch the truth, to which I would try to talk her down and support her in any way I could. My husband wasn't a fan of her since whenever we did meet up with her, she would only talk about herself and the latest dramas in her life, especially more people she had fallen out with, this seemed to be quite constant for Stacey, regardless, he accepted my wishes.
Fast forward to my hen do. The girls and my mum had planned a surprise hen do for me and it was a lot of fun. During the night (and after a few drink) I became curious as to who was not able to make it. My MOH mentioned a few people and their reasons (Not as if it mattered) and said "Unfortunately, we haven't heard anything from Stacey". I let it go and didn't think much more of it after that. After the hen do, of course we shared some photos of the hen do to socials. After a week I got a message from Stacey basically saying sorry that she could not attend, she didn't have child care, which is fully understandable.
A few weeks pass and she messages me again saying "I'm not sure if I can come yet, but if I do can I bring my new man?" My response was that I didn't know she had a new man but I would check the numbers and see what we could do. Her response was "Oh we're not together, we're just talking for now" I was in two minds since I didn't really want a complete stranger to be at my wedding day. I ended the conversation with, "I wasn't sure I was comfortable with that and for her to please let me know when she knew".
It is now nine days before the wedding, I am cooking dinner and doing the very final counts and remember that Stacey hasn't let me know if she could attend the wedding reception, so I reached out to her.
In short the conversation started with me asking if she would be there next week. She told me she couldn't ecause of court cases along with other stuff and that she couldn't find child care and that she would come if her kid could come along too. Now this is understandable, except she lived with her mum who I know is more than happy to look after her granddaughter, in addition, this day had been planned so far in advance. I replied, I fully understand however so many other people have had to fork out for childcare and it would be unfair to those if I allowed her child, I added that I love everyone's kids but I could not afford them. She then proceeded to state that she no longer gets on with my friends, and that no one would find it unfair if her child attends and that it's "Only a buffet rights?" then proceeded to try and call me.
I put my foot down however said that I didn't want to lose her as a friend. She replied saying she "respects my choices and that her mum could have her child but then she would be sacrificing her time with her child since baby daddy now has every other weekend with their child". I thanked her for her understanding to which she said "Yeah it's just part of being a parent, and you haven't lost me as a friend. I'm not that petty lol. Me and child are a team so we will always do stuff together otherwise I just accept that I can't do anything, it is what it is. I don't think it would make you and husband hypocrites. Weddings are much better with children anyway. I responded with "Again, that being said, if everyone's kids were there, that would be over 20 kids, which could be chaos also" and she finished it with "You’ll understand one day when you have children yourself that children will always come first"
The wedding was great and after we heard nothing from her despite her being present on social media. No congrats, no comments about the dress or the photos when they came back. She just shared shady memes about friendship. 7 months later she messages me out of the blue saying "Hey babe, you okay?" I didn't really know what to say back and eventually, she cornered me at work in which was really awkward and she has since blocked me on social media. Later on I found out also that her kid was also with their dad on the day of my hen do, so she did lie to me.
I don't know if I should feel bad or if I should have tried harder. I was very present in her kids life before and she used to call me auntie like all of my friends kids. AITA

I need advice because I am at a loss.
I've been scouring all sorts of resources, in hopes of finding more information about my great x3 grandmothers on both my parent's sides. One was born in Indian Territory, Oklahoma in 1874, the other in Polk County, Arkansas also in 1874. My grandmother from Indian Territory is on my mom's side, whereas the other is on my father's.
I cannot find any more information on these women. I've found extended family from my father's side (great uncles & aunties) and one of my great x5 grandfather's on the Dawes rolls, listed as Cherokee by blood, but the specific grandmothers I am looking for are not on them, nor are their parents or direct descendants. I've found names on census's, but not only are they few and far between; I have photos of both grandmothers, both obviously beautiful brown skinned women- but on census they are listed as white. I've seen some other confusing information that makes it hard to understand the dynamic of the household too. All of the women have little to no information, some information has even been changed.
I need to know if this is common with indigenous ancestors, and if there is anything I can do about it. I am new to genealogy and don't know very much about my own family. Could there be an error in my tree somewhere I'm missing? If adoption was involved, how would I know? I hate speculating. It's hard to navigate anything without a paywall, whether it be via apps or actually paying someone to do this for me. I just want to understand where I come from, why I am here from such a broken family.
I want to keep doing this until it feels like I've really done something to make a difference in our lives.
I hope this isn't truly a brick wall, I appreciate anyone who takes the time to read this. 🙏
Edit: took out some personal stuff I decided I didn't want to lengthen the post with. Apologies

I am not the OOP. The OOP is u/brotherconflict posting in AmItheAsshole and his user account
Ongoing as per OOP
2 updates - Long
Original - 31st May 2023
Update1 - 11th June 2023
Update2 - 31st Oct0ber 2023
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WIBTA if I skipped my sister's wedding?
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Throwaway account + fake names.
I (23m) am one of seven kids. There's Lydia (31f), Josh (28m), Leo (25m), me, then Erin (21f), Nadia (18f), and the surprise child Lexie (4f). With that many siblings, it's easy to get lost in the crowd. Some of us have our 'positions,' so to speak. Lydia's the oldest, Lexie's the baby, I have a kid (yes, that's my descriptor. OP: gave us a grandchild). Erin is the golden child. She was the last planned child, the one supposed to tie up our family. She was born premature so I understand that my parents coddled her to an extent, but it's more than that now.
Erin's getting married and recently told us that she's brought the date forward due to a cancellation. No big deal, it just means they're getting married sooner. But the new date lands on the date of Nadia's HS graduation. Erin was sympathetic, but said she's already committed to the date, they've printed the invitations. My parents normally go overboard on our HS grads, but they said that they'd just have to miss Nadia's. We were all sympathetic, but it wasn't intentional.
Or so I thought. But Nadia later told me and Leo that she was there when Erin got the call about the cancellation and told Erin that she was graduating that day, but Erin just laughed and accepted the date anyway. This, as much as I hate to admit it, sounds like a very Erin thing to do. She booked her engagement part for the night of Nadia's 18th birthday (luckily, she wasn't celebrating until the weekend). She announced her engagement at my oldest sister's wedding anniversary. Everything is about her.
I confronted Erin about this, and she said that Nadia's HS graduation didn't matter. She wanted to get married to the love of her life sooner—and our family had been to plenty of HS graduations at this point, anyway. She said something like, "we still have Lexie." But here's what gets me the most: Nadia's been looking forward to this for so long. She's watched all of us graduate and have these huge celebrations thrown by our parents. I asked Nadia what she wanted, and she said she wanted to have her day.
So, I told my family that me and Nadia won't be attending the wedding. Leo has also dropped out. Everyone's angry. Erin's furious, and I didn't make it better by telling her that I could watch our other siblings get married, since it's all the same in her eyes. Mom's trying to convince me to come to the wedding because 'graduation isn't as important' but I feel like if I don't do this then it sets a precedent in Nadia's life that she's always going to mean less than Erin. I've had messages calling me an asshole, an idiot, etc. They're telling me to step up and be a good brother, but that's what I'm doing. My son is supposed to be ring bearer but with how my family is reacting, I'm considering pulling him out of the wedding, too. My dad's told Nadia he'll take her to dinner after the wedding. Nadia's currently staying with me because mom won't stop cornering her.
AITA?
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Comments
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Comfortable-Sea-2454
NTA - Erin tried to make her little sisters graduation all about her and you are being a good big brother and standing up for Nadia. Also, I am extra petty, but I would pull your son out of the wedding in Solidarity for Nadia.
BTW "I could watch our other siblings get married, since it's all the same in her eyes" Boom!!!
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[deleted]
The last part was golden. It always good when you use the selfish’ peoples own logic against them.
NTA OP, pull out your son, if you want to be even more petty, make him some kind of bearer for Nadia’s graduation. Continue being a good brother
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Not-Mom15
He could be Nadia's cap-bearer and make sure her tassel is in the proper place and unknotted all the way. Make a whole ceremony of making sure auntie's completely ready to walk for her diploma and it'd be the cutest thing ever, especially if he and OP are both dressed in formal clothes.
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Update - 11 days later
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It's two days after D-Day and I finally come bearing an update! I've had to condense it quite a bit because a lot has happened. Before I start, Nadia wanted me to thank everyone who congratulated her on her graduation. She was overwhelmed by the support you all gave her, especially after she faced such opposition from our family.
So, let's start. Last Friday, Leo and I went to speak to our parents and Erin. I wanted to tell them that I'd be pulling my son from the wedding. Our older siblings ended up turning up as well, so it was us four standing up for Nadia. Leo had spoken to them the night before, and helped them see things more clearly from Nadia's eyes. Apparently, it didn't sink in with them that Erin chose the date intentionally.
There was a lot of yelling. Erin accused me of trying to sabotage her wedding, our parents tried to convince me to let them take my son to the wedding, but I stood my ground. I felt a lot stronger with my older siblings with me. There's only two years between me and Erin after all, I'm not much of an older brother.
Luckily, Lydia was there. Her words carry more weight as the eldest and she didn't give Erin or my parents room to argue as she told them that Erin chose the date intentionally, admitted as much in front of me and Leo, and that this was normal behaviour for her. Lydia told them that if they continued to favor Erin so blatantly, the rest of us would go no-contact—and Lexie would likely follow in the future.
Our dad started yelling. Not at us, but at Erin, surprisingly. I've never seen him so angry before, and to see it directed at Erin was... shocking. Our mom asked us to leave. We didn't hear from anyone on that side until Monday when Erin's fiancé George asked to meet us at our parents'. He apologised to Nadia. He didn't know that the wedding and graduation overlapped, nor did he know that it was something Erin did on purpose. Our dad was the one to tell him.
What followed was a long talk between us, during which we all aired our grievances. I told our parents that we all felt that they valued Erin more. That none of us mattered to them compared to her. Her artwork always went up on the fridge, ours always went in the drawer. I told them that, as a parent, I could never imagine treating my child like that.
Erin tried to argue. She tried to tell us that we were trying to turn her into a bad guy, trying to turn our parents against her, trying to sabotage her wedding. Our mom told her to be quiet, that it was our time to talk. George stepped in to tell us that he didn't expect us to attend the wedding, but we were welcome to attend the reception. He went so far as to say that he wished he could have cancelled the wedding altogether, but it'd only cost him more money that he'd spent by bringing it forward.
Mom's willingness to hear us out lasted less than 24 hours. By Tuesday, she was begging us to reconsider. Apparently our feelings meant nothing in the face of Erin's dire stress and the fact that people would be questioning our absence on the big day. I haven't spoken to my mom since, but I did ask my dad to bring my some of Nadia's things because she is going to be staying with me full-time.
We have officially gone no-contact with our mother.
Dad took Nadia out for an early-graduation celebration on Wednesday. They had a daddy-daughter date that I think she really needed. He apologised for a lot of things and told her he wanted to do the same with the rest of us. But Wednesday was about her. I'm happy she got that one-on-one time with him. She was happy coming home to me. In our sibling group chat, she said that she really thinks dad is going to try to mend bridges with us, even if mom won't.
Dad also turned up early yesterday morning (I'm talking... 6.30 a.m.) to give Nadia flowers. He told her that he was proud of her. George even called while he was getting ready for his big day to congratulate Nadia, which I really appreciated.
We didn't hear from mom or Erin. Our paternal grandma ended up coming to the graduation with us.
It was a great day. Like, a really great day. We didn't think about the wedding, didn't think about Erin. We just had fun together. My son got to wear his aunt's cap and gown and nearly drowned in the fabric. Our grandma tried on the cap, too. We took photos and sent them to our dad, who posted them in a Facebook post he wrote to congratulate both Erin on her wedding and Nadia on her graduation and we laughed about how it must have pissed off our newly wedded sister. We went out for dinner and we, as siblings, gifted Nadia money for a week away with her best friend, which somebody suggested in a comment on the initial post.
I texted George my congratulations. Despite everything, I do hope he and Erin are happy together. While she might not love us, I don't doubt that Erin loves him. Yes, she wants her spotlight and her moment, but I don't think she's marrying him just for that. Bringing the wedding forward? Sure, that's a hugely malicious tactic to bring herself more attention. Marrying him for the sake of having a wedding? She isn't that type of narcissist.
As of right now, I plan on staying no-contact with my mom unless she makes some big changes. This is a sentiment shared not only by the majority of my siblings, but is also encouraged by our dad and grandma. She's tried reaching out to me and my partner, mostly berating us for not attending the wedding and accusing us of planning to keep her grandchild away from her.
At the moment, our summer looks busy! We're planning on filling it with as many family outings as possible before Nadia leaves for college. We've also got Josh's 29th birthday to plan! Our dad's even joining in! This might cause a bigger rift between him and mom, but for now, at least, it looks like we're his priority. Lydia's threat really did something to him.
Thanks everyone who left comments on the original post! I know they really cheered Nadia up when she was worrying about whether or not she was doing the right thing by choosing herself. Part of me wishes we could've taken this stand earlier, but it took us a while to find our voices. Looking into the future, I do see two empty spaces at my own wedding, but I also see five siblings cheering my on. I'm happy with that.
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Comments
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notanyonessunshine
Yes! Congratulations not only to Nadia but to all of you! I'm really happy with the update. Gosh! Your son would be so adorable got drowned by his aunt's cap lol I really hope Nadia will enjoy the rest of her summer before college starts. Maybe she'll have more daddy-daughter dates with your dad. Best of luck to Nadia, OP and your other siblings! I imagine Josh's 29th birthday will be a good one p/s: maybe I should start planning for my 29th too 😉 August is not too far away any more

OOP: Dad's currently filling his calendar with one-on-one days with all of us! I think Lydia's next up on his list. She definitely deserves it! My son did look adorable, but I may be biased there! Haha, Josh's birthday is at the very end of July, so we've got time yet. It's surprisingly less stressful without our mom's involvement. Who would've thought?

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Crazybutnotlazy1983
This will be the first major event since the wedding and her siding with Erin. If she and Erin do not come around do not include them. I see total "payback" from both of them.

OOP: Where we're at currently, we have no plans to involve them regardless. Josh has even asked dad not to tell them about any plans we make, and Dad has agreed. I hate that he's in the middle like this, but as long as he wants a relationship with all of his children, the middle is where he's going to have to be. Erin's supposed to leave for her honeymoon in the next few days, so I'm interested to see what Mom will fare now that none of her back-up children are speaking to her (aside from Lexie, of course)

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Ok-Cantaloupe-424
Has Erin lived at home all this time? It will be interesting to see how your mother reacts with "Erin the Perfect" gone on her honeymoon. You might have to update us!!

OOP: Erin moved out about a year ago, but I know she visits our parents a lot. I think they live pretty close (I have never been to Erin's place nor will I ever willingly go there).

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Update - 5 months later
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It's been about 5 months since I've last posted, and I've had some requests for an update, so I figured I'd sit down and write one up. Bare in mind, a lot can happen in 5 months, and that's definitely true for this!
Let me start off with July. Erin and George went on their Honeymoon, and their absence sent our Mom into a frenzy. She wasn't used to having no one around; someone was always visiting. Mostly Erin, but the rest of us would visit out of obligation and to see Nadia and Lexie. With Erin on her Honeymoon and the rest of us NC, Mom had no visitors and she really didn't like that. Literally the DAY after Erin left, we started getting bombarded with phone calls. She tried convincing Nadia first, which Lydia thought was a strategic move because Nadia is the more timid of all of us and, thus, more likely to be persuaded. When Nadia turned her down, she turned her sights on the rest of us. We all got identical phone calls with her trying to persuade us to go visit her, to understand her, to see things from Erin's perspective. She even brought up the circumstances of Erin's premature birth and how it was a miracle that she was even here. Josh told her to 'do better with Lexie.' Lydia blocked her number.
When the phone calls didn't work, she started turning up at our homes. She continued spewing much of the same shit she had over the phone and before the wedding. She didn't understand what she'd done so wrong, why we were treating her like this. She called me ungrateful and disrespectful. She accused us of harbouring 'unnecessary jealousy' towards Erin and that she loved us all equally. I didn't respond to these comments. I was just trying to prevent her from going inside and saying the same things to Nadia, who was with my partner and son in the living room. Her comments didn't deserve a response, and when she was done I asked her to leave as calmly as I could, but truthfully, I felt a little like crying. But who wouldn't feel shitty with their mom yelling in their face like that, trying to downplay years of pain and calling it 'unnecessary jealousy?'
My siblings and I have been let down time and time again by her and our dad ever since Erin was born. They missed out on so many things over the years, both big and small. But we had one thing. One thing. One thing that they never missed and we were happy with just that one thing, and that was our HS Graduations, but they couldn't give that to Nadia. All we had were our HS Graduations. They missed Josh's college graduation because Erin broke her leg. It was an accident, I get that, but they never made it up to him. They never celebrated this huge achievement afterwards, and he just had to grin and bear it. Our Mom didn't turn up to my partner's babysitter after making such a huge fuss about it because Erin didn't want to go and wanted them to get their nails done together instead.
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But our jealousy is unnecessary?
Sorry.
I don't know how I managed to stay calm when she was yelling at me, but I did. Asking her to leave made her switch tactics though, and she started calling out for my son, trying to coax him to go to her and telling me that she had a right to see her grandson. My partner stepped in then, because she was seething, and took my place at the door. Mom yelled some more but she left when my partner threatened to call the cops.
Mom repeated this song and dance with my older siblings but similarly got nowhere with them.
Then came the Facebook posts. Indirect rants about ungrateful people and how shocking it is that 'some kids' could turn against their parents so easily. Erin somehow got involved while on her honeymoon and called Lydia to scold her for being mean to our mom. But as I've said before, Lydia is angry and she's had enough. Whatever she said to Erin prevented her from calling the rest of us.
There was then a Facebook post about how much it hurt to be kept from a grandchild. Now, there were no names mentioned, but there is only one grandchild and that is my son. My mom's sister called me. There was yelling. I blocked the number.
I know Dad was trying to convince our Mom to just... leave us alone. He kept apologizing because she just wasn't listening to him.
Erin came home after two weeks. She tried reaching out to Lydia again, asking for us all to talk because, and this is a quote from Lydia, 'clearly you (we) all have some issues to work out.' We did not turn up. Erin was very angry at that because she's not used to us turning up for her.
July wasn't all bad though. While our Mom was on a rampage, our Dad was still trying to do better by us. And he's improved a lot! In July, he and I went out for a meal together, just the two of us, and grabbed a drink, and he apologized. It wasn't a generic apology that he could've repeated to all of us, about how he's sorry that he hurt us and neglecting us, but he brought up specific instances that he wanted to apologize for. He thought back on all those years and picked out moments that he wanted to apologize to me for. I know he did the same for the others, but having him apologize for things like cancelling a fishing trip because Erin 'needed him' was something I wasn't expecting.
And I never really cared for fishing, but I wanted to go on that trip because I always saw it on TV, you know? I'd always see a dad and son fishing together and I wanted to have that. I wanted dad to prove that I was a priority to him somewhere deep down. It didn't happen, and I never asked again.
But we went fishing in July. What started as a trip between the two of us soon grew into a family day out when my siblings expressed an interest in going fishing, too. My brothers first, then Nadia, and even Lydia who hates the smell of fish. Dad brought Lexie and I brought my son, and it was great. It was one of the best days of my life. I suck at fishing, but I'm pretty great at collecting seashells. It was brilliant.
Our parents did end up arguing when Dad went home. I wasn't there, so I don't know every little detail, but from what Dad told me, the argument was mostly because Mom didn't understand why we were still in contact with him and not her. She found it insulting that we were repairing our relationship with him. She was angry that Dad wasn't pushing us to forgive her, or why he wasn't stopping us from 'acting out.' She was angry that he didn't extend an invitation to her and Erin for the fishing trip, and she was even angrier when he explained that their presence would make us uncomfortable.
Josh turned 29 and the end of July. We booked an escape room for the five of us siblings, then we met our dad and partners for dinner that evening. Josh introduced us to his new partner for the first time. All of our attention was on Josh, the day was completely about him, which was a first for our family. Then there was a party thrown for him by his friends which I came out of with a massive hangover.
Mom started giving us the silent treatment in the middle of August. Dad moved out in September. While we were getting the silent treatment, Dad was baring the brunt of her anger and it really took it out of him. He was trying to do better by us and she was trying to villainise us, and he ultimately told her that if she didn't take accountability for her actions soon, then he'd be contacting a lawyer. Mom didn't take him seriously. He's been staying in Lydia's guest room since.
Mom doubled down and said that he was blind for not seeing how we were manipulating him. Unlike the rest of us, Dad obviously still has regular contact with Erin—and according to him, she's even told Mom to reconsider. Unsurprisingly, Erin's involvement is what got Mom to relent. I'm not sure if she's thinking about how she's treated us, or if she's silently stewing. I know she asked Dad if he's going to move back home but he said that it was better for them to have space right now. Personally, I'm struggling to see an outcome where our Mom sincerely admits that she was in the wrong. I think she'll say it just to get Dad back home and the rest of us talking to her again. I don't think she'll ever hold us to the same level as Erin.
In brighter news, there's officially less than a year left until my own wedding. Currently, there is no place for my mom or Erin. My partner Jade and I are having our fathers wear ties that match me and my groomsmen, something I originally didn't plan to do, but I'm happy with the change. Nadia's settled in at college. She's made some new friends with kids in her classes, and she's enjoying. She's happy. Even though we have an active group chat, she facetimes me every few days just to talk. Most of what she says I've already read in the gc, but I'm always willing to listen to her stories again. Nadia never used to talk this much. She looks a lot happier now than she did five months ago.
I think that's everything. I'm sorry for the novel, but like I said, a lot can happen in five months.
​
Comments from about 3 months ago(4 months after the last post)
​
greenlightgaslight
Time for another update

OOP: I do plan on sitting down to write an update soon! A lot has happened over the last four months, both good and bad, that I wanted to let those of you cheering our family on know about!

​
I am not the OOP. Please do not harass the OOP. Please remember the No Brigading Rule and to be civil in the comments

i cant stop crying... i am 20 and my mom wants to get rid of me ...... secretly sending my photos to matchmaking aunties without asking me and even after me saying firmly no.......she keeps saying weird stuff like i cant keep u in my house all my life and that i wont get anything like property and stuff even though i never talked about it.... i said ill tell my dad he has to pay for me and if im a burden and she called him and told him about a fight i had about this marriage thing now he's against me .. idk if he knows about the marriage part or what she said im so scared she'll get me married to someone bad to "teach me a lesson" she wants to deprive me of everything and she's not at all interested in my education
a few days ago she revealed as a joke that she never got over the fact that my dad bought a car after i fell from his bike as a baby and not for her.. it was so bizarre to me i feel like that's the reason she hated me all my life because my dad loved me... she told me all my life im no longer as smart as i used to be and i believed her which obviously was a lie
she also sabotaged my last relationship by telling my dad and creating a scene, traumatising me for 2 years but in my country it was understandable because you're not allowed to date.
BUT THEN she found out about my brother's relationship and she didnt even scold him at all.. just showed mild disappointment and hid this from my father so i ended up realising she told about mine on purpose to make me look bad in front of him...
she keeps lying about my age to make me look older so someone takes me seriously and marries me
despite all this hate she has treated me like some trophy she owned, her property and her creation as in everything good i do is because of her and everything bad i do is because of being damaged.....

ive been mindfucked since yesterday since i found out the truth about my whole family situation. my 'grandma' isnt even my real grandma. my grandpa fucked my 'grandmas' little sister (my actual real grandma) when they were married and had a child (my mum) so my real grandma has passed away now and i had a pseudo grandma for my whole life
my grandpa then went onto have 6 more kids with my 'grandma'. the thing is my grandparents raised my mum as if she was their own, so my mum is the oldest in the 'family'
i have a large extended family but i always felt like the black sheep. my cousins and aunties/uncles have been my half cousins and half aunties/uncles this whole time. apparently none of my cousins know but all the uncles and aunties know
to give some backstory, my oldest aunty hated my mum and was a nasty bitch to her since adolescence and my mum still detest her till this day. i never got along with my cousins from that aunty, even tho they had a son just 1 year younger than me. i felt like i got the same treatment my mum got from her sister. those cousins (2 girls and 2 boys) would social media stalk me and engage in malicious gossip and spread fucked up rumours about me. and at family gatherings they would make snide comments randomly at me. my mum assumes the reason for the hostility from my aunt towards her is coz she found out she comes from another mum (her aunt)
im 30 years old now and for the last 10 years i barely went to any of the social gatherings, but went to alot of them growing up as a kid and adolescent. my other cousin would also make nasty comments at me randomly when i did attend a gathering. like purposely trying to exclude me from the tribe. even tho they dont know about this secret its like deep down unconsciously they do. some of my uncles would also frequently try to belittle me whenever they saw fit. the aunty that was a bitch to my mum was kinda cold to me too, and it feels kinda 'fake' when i did interact with her
my grandpa passed away last year and my mum eventually found out the truth by confirmations from her uncles/aunties. the twisted thing is my mum had an inkling growing up coz she said my 'grandma' abused her and was very mean to her. she thought that my grandma didnt love her growing up. growing up my 'grandma' was never really that affectionate with me, but she was with my cousins. like cuddling them and doting/kissing so that added the suspicion for my mum. my mum had a cousin that was 9 years older, and she thought it was odd when my 'grandma' never took care of my mum as a baby/kid but her aunty (real grandma) would take care of my mum and be really affectionate
the fucked up thing is my mum confronted my grandpa when she was like 35 (55 years old now) about her suspicion that her aunty is her real mother and my aunts told my grandpa to put my mum in a mental institution coz they didnt want the secret out and he went through with it. so my mum was put into the psychiatric hospital for schizophrenia. they knew it would taint my grandpas image and wanted my cousins to believe in this happy little lie
so i grew up having a 'psychotic mum' but she they just gas lit the fuck out of her. my mum had multiple suicide attempts when i was growing up as a kid/teenger
my mum and her older cousin that knew had a meeting with 1 of my aunties to talk about it after confirmation that it was all true and my aunty just told them to promise not to tell any of the kids (cousins and me/my siblings) so they dont 'taint' the image of grandpa and the drama it could ensue. my mum is obviously going to break that promise and eventually tell my other siblings (im the first to know)
my mum barely ever sees them and doesn't attend any of the gatherings. everything is clicking now why i always felt like an outsider. my other siblings are the same that we dont go to the gatherings except 1 of my sisters since shes gets along with them. but my mum doesnt know if she should tell her the truth
at the funeral 1 of the cousins that was quite cold and nasty to me gave a eulogy, and you know how when u give a eulogy u 'gas' them up (like try to make them seem like such a great person) using phrases like how he was a gentle man etc (she literally said that lol) but the point is theres alot of pretentiousness in this family and i just thought that was amusing
ive met my grandma only twice in my life when i was a teenager and she came to visit and my sisters wedding but i dont remember it. when she passed away 5 years ago in vietnam my mum was the only one to attend the funeral. apparently everyone was shocked how similar my mum looked like her but everyone just said coz shes her niece
a part of me feels sad that ill never get to experience the warmth of my grandma. whats its like to be doted on as a kid. my interactions with my 'grandma' always felt kinda distant. it was actually the same with my grandpa. its like we reminded him of how he betrayed his wife. didnt help that they could barely speak english lol, i wonder how different everything would be if we could actually talk to each other since i cant speak Vietnamese and they never bothered to learn english when they migrated to australia
now looking at some of the family photos and its like a whole new lens has been added. dont know if its a fake smile coming from my 'grandma' or not and i swear i can see the rage and bitterness in her eyes
theres only like 1 cousin that i feel like i have a 'decent' bond with, and most of the others im amicable with. but for the specific family members that treated me harshly for whatever reason it showed me the truth that i was never truly part of the family. the next time i see them i wonder whats its going to feel like since i only just know the truth now. my mum said the aunties are being more distant with her since they now know that my mum also knows the truth
i feel pretty fucked in the head growing up in that family. still deal with mental health issues and poor self esteem and i attribute a lot to growing up with them. not to say there weren't ever any good or fun times but the negative just outweighs the positive by a landslide. i really wonder what life would be like if instead of my grandpa taking care of my mum she stayed back in Vietnam with my grandma and we never knew this family
just had to rant coz my mind is going haywire about all of this and how everything has played out in my life. i dunno if im just mindfucking myself but everything just makes sense now

ive been mindfucked since yesterday since i found out the truth about my whole family situation. my 'grandma' isnt even my real grandma. my grandpa fucked my 'grandmas' little sister (my actual real grandma) when they were married and had a child (my mum) so my real grandma has passed away now and i had a pseudo grandma for my whole life
my grandpa then went onto have 6 more kids with my 'grandma'. the thing is my grandparents raised my mum as if she was their own, so my mum is the oldest in the 'family'
i have a large extended family but i always felt like the black sheep. my cousins and aunties/uncles have been my half cousins and half aunties/uncles this whole time. apparently none of my cousins know but all the uncles and aunties know
to give some backstory, my oldest aunty hated my mum and was a nasty bitch to her since adolescence and my mum still detest her till this day. i never got along with my cousins from that aunty, even tho they had a son just 1 year younger than me. i felt like i got the same treatment my mum got from her sister. those cousins (2 girls and 2 boys) would social media stalk me and engage in malicious gossip and spread fucked up rumours about me. and at family gatherings they would make snide comments randomly at me. my mum assumes the reason for the hostility from my aunt towards her is coz she found out she comes from another mum (her aunt)
im 30 years old now and for the last 10 years i barely went to any of the social gatherings, but went to alot of them growing up as a kid and adolescent. my other cousin would also make nasty comments at me randomly when i did attend a gathering. like purposely trying to exclude me from the tribe. even tho they dont know about this secret its like deep down unconsciously they do. some of my uncles would also frequently try to belittle me whenever they saw fit. the aunty that was a bitch to my mum was kinda cold to me too, and it feels kinda 'fake' when i did interact with her
my grandpa passed away last year and my mum eventually found out the truth by confirmations from her uncles/aunties. the twisted thing is my mum had an inkling growing up coz she said my 'grandma' abused her and was very mean to her. she thought that my grandma didnt love her growing up. growing up my 'grandma' was never really that affectionate with me, but she was with my cousins. like cuddling them and doting/kissing so that added the suspicion for my mum. my mum had a cousin that was 9 years older, and she thought it was odd when my 'grandma' never took care of my mum as a baby/kid but her aunty (real grandma) would take care of my mum and be really affectionate
the fucked up thing is my mum confronted my grandpa when she was like 35 (55 years old now) about her suspicion that her aunty is her real mother and my aunts told my grandpa to put my mum in a mental institution coz they didnt want the secret out and he went through with it. so my mum was put into the psychiatric hospital for schizophrenia. they knew it would taint my grandpas image and wanted my cousins to believe in this happy little lie
so i grew up having a 'psychotic mum' but she they just gas lit the fuck out of her. my mum had multiple suicide attempts when i was growing up as a kid/teenger
my mum and her older cousin that knew had a meeting with 1 of my aunties to talk about it after confirmation that it was all true and my aunty just told them to promise not to tell any of the kids (cousins and me/my siblings) so they dont 'taint' the image of grandpa and the drama it could ensue. my mum is obviously going to break that promise and eventually tell my other siblings (im the first to know)
my mum barely ever sees them and doesn't attend any of the gatherings. everything is clicking now why i always felt like an outsider. my other siblings are the same that we dont go to the gatherings except 1 of my sisters since shes gets along with them. but my mum doesnt know if she should tell her the truth
at the funeral 1 of the cousins that was quite cold and nasty to me gave a eulogy, and you know how when u give a eulogy u 'gas' them up (like try to make them seem like such a great person) using phrases like how he was a gentle man etc (she literally said that lol) but the point is theres alot of pretentiousness in this family and i just thought that was amusing
ive met my grandma only twice in my life when i was a teenager and she came to visit and my sisters wedding but i dont remember it. when she passed away 5 years ago in vietnam my mum was the only one to attend the funeral. apparently everyone was shocked how similar my mum looked like her but everyone just said coz shes her niece
a part of me feels sad that ill never get to experience the warmth of my grandma. whats its like to be doted on as a kid. my interactions with my 'grandma' always felt kinda distant. it was actually the same with my grandpa. its like we reminded him of how he betrayed his wife. didnt help that they could barely speak english lol, i wonder how different everything would be if we could actually talk to each other since i cant speak Vietnamese and they never bothered to learn english when they migrated to australia
now looking at some of the family photos and its like a whole new lens has been added. dont know if its a fake smile coming from my 'grandma' or not and i swear i can see the rage and bitterness in her eyes
theres only like 1 cousin that i feel like i have a 'decent' bond with, and most of the others im amicable with. but for the specific family members that treated me harshly for whatever reason it showed me the truth that i was never truly part of the family. the next time i see them i wonder whats its going to feel like since i only just know the truth now. my mum said the aunties are being more distant with her since they now know that my mum also knows the truth
i feel pretty fucked in the head growing up in that family. still deal with mental health issues and poor self esteem and i attribute a lot to growing up with them. not to say there weren't ever any good or fun times but the negative just outweighs the positive by a landslide. i really wonder what life would be like if instead of my grandpa taking care of my mum she stayed back in Vietnam with my grandma and we never knew this family
​
just had to rant coz my mind is going haywire about all of this and how everything has played out in my life. i dunno if im just mindfucking myself but everything just makes sense now
​
​

I’m on mobile so there may be spelling mistakes. I have changed some of the details. Hello I hope posting here will help me. (Me and Roger were together for 11 months and 1 week or 2 weeks) So basically I will be calling my Ex ‘Roger’. So first a little back story, Me and Roger meet in year 7. We both had a similar interest with video games.( as I got older my taste in video game changed) And we quickly became friends towards the end of the school year, his parents took him out of the school. We continue to be friends and hanged out at each other’s places. Okay so I started dating him when I was 16 and he was 17. Fast forward 5 months and Roger decides we should get promise rings for each other. About a month after this Roger started suggesting we have sex but I kept on telling him that I was not ready. He kept on pressure me, I kept on telling him to wait. About may/June last year Roger started saying we should put cameras on each other rooms I immediately said no. And he did not mention it again. I was getting annoyed by him constantly bringing up sex it really annoyed me when I saw his next I realized I started to act cold and distant. It happened the next few times I saw him. So i eventually ended it over text. But them I stupidly texted him saying something along the lines of “ do you want to know why I broke up with you?” And I think we got back together(can’t remember the exact conversation). The next time i saw Roger, I was still felt repulsed and disgusted so the next week I broke up with him fully (yay for me). I was still forced to go to his 18th. He tried to flirt with me but I wasn’t really comfortable with Roger doing it. But I did talk to Roger’s cousin more than I did to Roger :). Now back to current day, when I was in a relationship with Roger I mistakenly told my grandmother and my auntie (opps) and when I left the relationship. So basically ever since I broke up with him they has been saying comments like “you and Roger would be perfect together” “ You and Roger would make the perfect couple when you move in together in your new flat” ( when I talked to Roger about this flat I would be getting he always said something along the lines of “and when I move in it will be are flat and thier will be meat In the fridge” I am a vegetarian so this is against my beliefs)etc… also Roger brought up marriage quite a lot and kept on saying “when you get married to me you will get my surname” I also find a problem with this because the surname my family has is almost extincted because it is very rare also His is surname is very common and i have probably met load of people with the same surname(he knowns my feelings about this).
Recently I have been deciding who to invite to 18 th and my grandmother always said “why don’t you invite Roger I think you to will have fun together” (this party would be for only family. I think I would act more closer to one to my classmates at college that Roger) but two weeks ago when we were in the car she said “ I think it is better if were to have sex with Roger than any other men” (I didn’t say anything as a reply) I didn’t like what she said. Also my grandmother has made me invite Roger to a nearby town and hand out with him. I mainly ignore him when I am with him and don’t speak to him, unless he has a question or my grandmother wants a photo for proof. And the only thing I have told my grandmother why we broke up was because Roger was pressuring me to has sex with him and I only told her recently. Even writing this up I still felt disgusted and repulsed;( Would anyone have any suggestions about what to do and how not to invite Roger to my birthday party. And how to change the subject about Roger when my grandmother brings it up.
TL;DR I(17FtM) don’t like being around my ex(18M) but my grandmother(70?F) it trying make me get back together with him but I don’t want to and She is trying to invite him to my birthday party.

Index

1. Introduction
   
2. Lush Green Lawn: A Natural Beauty
   
3. Versatile AC Hall for All Occasions
   
4. Convenient and Comfortable Facilities
   
5. Exceptional Catering Services
   
6. Customizable Decoration Options
   
7. Conclusion
   

1. Introduction

Choosing the perfect wedding venue is crucial for creating a memorable celebration. Among the myriad of options in Kolkata, Khelaghar Baganbari stands out for its unique blend of natural beauty, modern amenities, and exceptional services. In this detailed blog, we explore five compelling reasons why Khelaghar Baganbari is the ideal choice for your wedding.

2. Lush Green Lawn: A Natural Beauty

Khelaghar Baganbari's lush green lawn is one of its most attractive features. This expansive outdoor space, adorned with exotic flowers and meticulously maintained greenery, provides a picturesque setting for various wedding ceremonies and receptions.

Key Features:

• **Scenic Backdrop:** The natural beauty of the lawn serves as a stunning backdrop for wedding photos and videos, capturing the essence of your special day.
  
• **Versatile Use:** The lawn can be used for various setups, including mandaps, dining areas, and entertainment zones.
  
• **Spaciousness:** Ideal for accommodating a large number of guests while ensuring they are comfortable and not crowded.
  

**Example:** Imagine exchanging your vows under a beautifully decorated mandap with the sunset casting a golden glow over the verdant lawn – a truly magical experience.

3. Versatile AC Hall for All Occasions

In addition to the outdoor lawn, Khelaghar Baganbari features a spacious, air-conditioned hall that can be tailored to suit any wedding-related event.

Key Features:

• **Climate Control:** The AC hall ensures comfort for guests regardless of the weather, making it an excellent choice for both summer and winter weddings.
  
• **Elegant Decor:** The hall boasts elegant lighting fixtures and chandeliers that add a touch of sophistication to any event.
  
• **Multi-Purpose Use:** Whether it's the main wedding ceremony, a reception, or smaller pre-wedding functions like the sangeet or mehendi, the hall can be customised to meet your needs.
  

4. Convenient and Comfortable Facilities

Khelaghar Baganbari ensures that both the bridal party and guests have access to convenient and comfortable facilities throughout the event.

Key Features:

• **Fully Furnished Rooms:** The venue includes two air-conditioned rooms with attached washrooms, perfect for bridal preparations and guest relaxation.
  
• **Spacious Kitchen:** The well-ventilated kitchen is ideal for caterers to prepare fresh, delicious food while adhering to strict hygiene standards.
  
• **Parking and Accessibility:** Ample parking space and easy accessibility make it convenient for guests to arrive and depart without hassle.
  

**Example:** The bride can get ready in a comfortable, air-conditioned room equipped with all necessary amenities, ensuring she feels relaxed and looks radiant on her special day.

5. Exceptional Catering Services

Food is a vital part of any wedding celebration, and Khelaghar Baganbari excels in offering exceptional catering services.

Key Features:

• **Diverse Cuisine Options:** From traditional Bengali dishes to international cuisines, the catering team can craft a menu that satisfies all tastes.
  
• **Live Counters:** Interactive live food stations add an element of excitement and allow guests to enjoy freshly prepared dishes.
  
• **Quality and Hygiene:** The catering team prioritizes quality and hygiene, ensuring that every dish is prepared with the utmost care.
  

**Example:** Offer your guests a delightful culinary experience with a menu featuring Bengali delicacies like Shorshe Ilish and Mishti Doi, alongside popular global dishes.

6. Customizable Decoration Options

Khelaghar Baganbari provides extensive decoration options that can be tailored to your wedding theme and preferences.

Key Features:

• **Professional Decorators:** Work with a team of experienced decorators to bring your vision to life, whether you prefer a traditional, contemporary, or fusion theme.
  
• **Floral Arrangements:** Stunning floral arrangements enhance the beauty of both the indoor and outdoor spaces.
  
• **Thematic Decor:** Customize the decor to reflect your unique style, from elegant mandaps and stage setups to intricate table settings and lighting designs.
  

**Example:** For a traditional Bengali wedding, incorporate elements like marigold garlands, alpona (Bengali rangoli), and traditional lamps to create an authentic and festive atmosphere.

7. Conclusion

Khelaghar Baganbari stands out among wedding venues in Kolkata for its blend of natural beauty, versatile spaces, and exceptional services. From the lush green lawn to the elegant AC hall, every aspect of the venue can be customized to create the wedding of your dreams. With comfortable facilities, top-notch catering, and professional decorators, Khelaghar Baganbari ensures that your special day is nothing short of magical.
By choosing Khelaghar Baganbari, you're not just selecting a venue; you're opting for an experience that combines tradition, elegance, and convenience, making it the perfect choice for your wedding celebration.

I have this family situation, three cousins, me, a boy and a girl, all from different moms. So the boys mother has been somewhat of a problem in our lives, and I cant seem to figure out what her deal is. Here is the jist of it, the girl did some self recording of herself nude and had the video in her phone. Later at some family event her phone was used to take photos of the day and the aunt took the phone to send herself some of the pictures and videos and apparently she saw the nude video and also sent it to herself.
Two weeks later, when the girl is away, she comes to the family house and shares the video to the family group, with all the aunties and even the girl's father and apparently its not the first time, some time back another aunt took her phone and found some pics of the same nature and they showed her father, she was younger then and it was a whole thing.
I am here looking at what she has done to this girl, the shame alone is enough and I keep wondering why they do this to her.
the boy is a bit younger, and I know what he does out here, he does unspeakable things, and is always posting it on his IG and stuff, and no one has ever seen this, I was wondering aunty is here doing this to someone's child and her son does worse things and no one questions it(maybe because no one knows)
So I wanted to take action and finally show her what her son does and ask her why she does this to another person's child and yet her own house is a mess, I almost did it yesternight but stopped myself, I have no ill intention towards my boy cousin, we are awesome friends but I really feel for my female cousin, she does not deserve that.
should I at least bring to her attention the debaucherous nature of her son? and I mean a real hedonist, drugs, banging most of his cousins and inappropriately touching the house help, a peeping tom and to top it all he steals from shosh, and I am not throwing shade there is actual evidence of all this stuff.

I've always been bound to death.
On my eighth birthday, a shadow strode into my house and shot me and my family dead. I remember it vividly, every detail, every angle, etched and stained and carved into my memory.
I sat very still with my knees to my chest, my gaze glued to my siblings.
Lily and PJ looked like they were sleeping, and I could almost believe it.
I didn't look at the shadow.
From the comfort of my knees, I waited for my brother to lift his head.
But his body was so limp, so still, every part of him faltering. My sister’s head was nestled in his shoulder, thick beads of red running down her face.
They're just sleeping.
I could tell myself they were— as long as I didn't look at the splatter of scarlet staining the back of the couch and pooling at their feet.
BANG.
Mom’s body dropped onto the ground.
I lunged forwards, slamming my hands over my ears.
BANG.
PJ’s head slumped forwards, a teasing smile still frozen on his lips.
BANG.
Lily gently tipped into PJ, like she was going to sleep.
Before she closed her eyes, Mom told me to run.
I can't remember how long I stayed under the shattered remnants of Mom’s favorite table. The shadow was waiting for me to move, to make a noise.
I watched booted feet crunch through glass, getting closer and closer, and slowly, fight or flight began to take over.
Making it halfway across the living room, my palms slick with my mother’s blood, I thought I was going to live.
Cruel fingers wound their way through my hair and shoved me to my knees. I remember the phantom legs of a spider creeping down the back of my neck when the shadow with no face dragged the barrel of his gun down my spine.
“Turn around.”
The shadow had a voice.
When I didn't move, the protruding metal stabbed into my neck.
“Turn around, kid!”
I did, very slowly.
Behind him, my siblings still weren't moving.
They were asleep.
Lily was still smiling, strawberry blonde ringlets stained red.
I couldn't see PJ’S face anymore.
BANG.
I didn't feel the gunshot.
I didn't feel anything.
Looking down, I glimpsed slowly spreading red blossoming like a flower.
It felt like being cut from strings.
I hit the ground, just like my mother, my body felt heavy and wrong.
Paralysed.
I remember being unable to scream, unable to cry, the salty taste of metal filling my mouth. It was like being winded. Rolling onto my side, all I could see was flickering candlelight.
The air was thick, so hard to breathe.
I rolled onto my back trying to suck in air.
The shadow took a step back, opened the front door, and bled into the night.
I don't remember the pain, and I don't remember dying. I couldn't breathe, couldn't conjure words in my mouth.
I felt warm and sticky, lying in my own blood.
I think I tried to move.
But I was so tired.
I’m not sure what death feels like, because it's like going to sleep.
I remember my last shuddering breaths, a lulling darkness beginning to swallow me up. I don't know why I wasn't afraid.
Oblivion almost felt like I was sinking into lukewarm depths on a Summer’s day.
Oblivion wasn't pain, and there was a peaceful inevitability to it.
It was endless nothing, a nothing I found myself gravitating towards. But before I could envelope myself in that darkness, it was spitting me back out.
The next thing I knew, I was in a white room, a slow beeping sound tearing me from slumber. I had a vague memory of slow spreading roses blossoming across my shirt, like summer flowers blooming.
Everything was white.
The walls, the ceiling, and my clothes.
Sensation hit me in slow waves.
Exhaustion.
I felt it tightening its grip around my brain, dragging me back onto a mountain of pillows when I tried to jump up. My Aunt May was sitting next to me on a plastic chair, her warm fingers entangled in mine. Aunt May and Mom were practically twins, with the same thick red hair and pale skin.
Mom wore her hair in a casual ponytail, while May preferred a strict bun.
I had to bite back the urge to yank my hand away.
Aunt May was asleep, used tissues filling her lap.
There was a nurse pottering around, checking my vitals and prodding my arms. My eyes felt heavy. I had to blink several times to keep myself awake.
“Charlie?”
The nurse’s voice was like wind-chimes.
I pretended not to notice her forced lipstick smile, the way she stood with her arms folded, staring at me like I was one of my cousin’s experiments. “You were in an accident, sweetie,” the nurse spoke up. I could see her trembling hands. “Just, um, try and rest, okay?”
I wanted to ask where my family was, but I already knew the answer.
I think she knew that too.
“You died, Charlie.” The nurse’s voice was eerily cold. “You were dead for thirteen minutes.”
She took slow steps towards me, her eyes growing frenzied, like she couldn't understand me, like I was a puzzle she could not solve– and it was driving her crazy. I could see it in her twitching hands, her wobbling lips that were trying and failing to appear stoic.
“In fact, I just pulled you out of the morgue, honey. I opened up your body bag that I had just zipped up, and told your aunt that you were a miracle I just… can’t understand.” The nurse sounded like she was trying to choke down a laugh, or maybe a sob.
“Charlotte, you were pronounced dead at 3:02am from a gunshot wound to the chest.” Taking a slow, sobering breath, the nurse tried to smile. “The bullet went through the right ventricle of your heart and severely damaged your left lung, rendering you unable to breathe. Your heart stopped, and after four attempts to resuscitate, we called it.”
Something slimy wound its way up my throat when she began to pace the room. “I… did all the paperwork. It took me two minutes. Your death certificate was signed, and your body was taken to the morgue to be prepped for transportation. Then I had my lunch. Tuna salad with a protein milkshake. I’m not a fan of the chocolate flavor.”
She shook her head. “Anyway, when I came back to you, you were awake inside your body bag.” Her voice was starting to break. “You were…um, alive, and asked me for apple soda.”
The nurse moved closer, and yet kept her distance.
I could feel myself moving back, panic writhing through me.
“So.” The nurse spoke calmly. “How the fuck are you still alive, Charlie?”
I think I passed out after that.
When I woke up again, my head a lot less heavier, the nurse was gone.
Slowly, my foggy brain began to find itself and connect dots.
My mouth was dry, full of cotton.
There was a sudden tightness, a sharp and cruel sting in my wrists.
Something sharp was protruding into my flesh, and no matter how many times I violently wrenched my arm, it was stuck. It didn't feel right to be able to breathe so easily.
I knew the second I woke that my Mom was dead.
Lily and PJ were dead, and it was like losing them all over again.
As clarity came over me, I found my voice, a strangled cry escaping my lips.
“Get it out.” I whispered in a shrill cry.
Tugging at the IV in my wrist, I tried to yank the needle from my skin.
“Get it out!” I shrieked, my gaze glued to the tiny spots of blood staining the insertion point.
I could see it again.
So much blood.
Mom was curled up on the floor, lying in slow spreading red that wouldn't stop, seeping across her beaded rug.
She was all over me, slick on my skin and caked in my fingernails.
I couldn't wash her off of me.
“You're okay, Charlotte.”
Aunt May’s voice came from my right, stabling me to reality.
The world started to move again, started to make sense again, when she cupped my cheeks and told me to breathe. When I opened my mouth to ask where my family were, she lightly shook her head and I swallowed my words. Aunt May handed me a glass of water, and I drained it in one gulp.
She told me I was a miracle.
Aunt May didn't say much, and when she did, she broke into sobs.
Her eyes were raw from crying, clinging onto me, her shuddery voice reassuring me that I was going to be okay.
She told me I would be living with her from now on, before wrapping me into a hug and leaving to get coffee.
Once my aunt was gone, another nurse came to prod my IV.
I tried to sleep, but the uncomfortable tightness of the needle sticking into my skin and the sterile white lights in my eyes made it impossible. I waited for grief to catch up with me, drowning me in a hollow oblivion I wouldn't be able to claw myself out of. But I didn't feel sad. I didn't feel angry.
I wanted to know why my family were dead.
I wanted to know why I was breathing, and their skin was ice cold.
Rotting.
The sudden image of maggots crawling up my brother’s nose sent me lurching into a sitting position, my stomach heaving. Reaching for my glass of water, it was empty. The sensation of throwing up felt familiar, almost comforting.
Mom was always with me when I was sick, holding my hair back and lulling my hysteria with reassuring murmurs.
I was frowning at the trash can by the door, my cotton candy brain trying to figure out if I would be able to make it in time, when a small voice drifted from the doorway, startling me.
“I don't want you to come live with us.”
My cousin was peeking through the door, hiding behind a shock of dark brown curls. Jude was the only brunette in our family. The rest of us were redheads.
I wasn't sure why he was dressed up like a ghost, draped in a white cloak that was way too big for him. Jude was a weird kid. His mother, and my auntie, had inherited the family house, so in his mind, that made him superior.
Jude made it clear he didn't like his cousins, refusing to let us play with him and banning us from family gatherings.
When the adults were drinking cocktails and losing their awareness, Jude ordered us around. The times we did play with him, our cousin showed us his spider collection, or the raccoon brain he kept in a jar. PJ was convinced our younger cousin was a serial killer. Several months earlier, he'd happily showed us the roadkill he'd been growing bacteria on under his bed.
Jude’s ‘experiments’ were worrying.
He stuffed mushrooms down my brother’s ears while he was sleeping, to, and I quote, “Recreate The Last Of Us.”
When Lily had a nosebleed during Thanksgiving dinner, Jude collected all her bloody tissues and refused to tell us where he'd put them, and what he had done with them. Fast-forward two months, and I found them under a nest of spiders. Jude was trying to adapt the spiders to be able to feed on human blood. I was surprised my cousin hadn't immediately demanded to see my siblings’ dead bodies for autopsy.
Jude stepped into the room, shuffling his feet.
“I'm sorry about Lily, PJ, and Aunt Ivy.” He mumbled, glaring at the floor tiles.
My cousin made no move to offer real sympathy, instead speaking to the floor.
“But I don't want you to come live with us.” Jude lifted his head, looking me dead in the eye. “I don't like you, Charlie. I want you to stay away.”
Before I could reply, he stepped back like I was diseased.
“You should be dead.” Jude grumbled.
He scowled at me, getting my age purposely wrong as usual before running off.
“Happy 68th birthday.”
I was six months older than him.
In Jude’s eyes, I was ready for retirement.
Still, though, my cousin was right.
I was stone cold dead, and then I was somehow alive.
Which was wrong.
Growing up, I realized Death was not so subtly attempting to fix his mistake.
It started small. I'd choke on things I wasn't supposed to choke on.
Chips.
Candy.
Ice cream.
Aunt May had to perform the heimlich manoeuvre when I choked on a piece of chicken. I thought I was just really unlucky, but then I locked myself in a freezer that didn't have a lock, and almost drowned in the local swimming pool, catching my foot in stray netting.
At the summer fair, Jude convinced me to try apple bobbing, only for my head to conveniently get stuck underwater.
It started to make sense.
I was supposed to die with my family that night, and death was out to get me.
Death started to get clever, changing his tactic. Instead of using everyday things to try to kill me, he sent reinforcements.
I turned twelve years old, and my aunt threw me a huge party, inviting all my classmates. Aunt May was rich, rich.
Mom never explained it, but our grandparents left everything to May.
The house was like a palace, a labyrinth of floors I was yet to explore, and two swimming pools.
I was in the kitchen cutting myself a slice of cake, when, out of nowhere, a dead boy came rushing at me with one of my aunt’s favorite kitchen knives.
A dead boy who I immediately recognised.
Wren Oliver.
Several years prior, he'd gone missing from his parents' yard. The town launched a full investigation, only to find his body in a ditch a week later.
So, Death had sent a footsoldier.
Hiding under a hooded sweatshirt, Wren appeared older, like he had grown up with me. But there was a startling vacancy in his expression that drew the breath from my lungs, freezing me in place. Wren’s death was announced as an accident, though his wounds suggested the opposite, dried blood smearing his right temple and a cavernous hole in his chest, his clothes painted, stained, in bright red, glued in sticky mounds clinging to him.
The boy’s eyes were wild, feral, like an animal.
His hair was longer, a mess of reddish curls matted to his forehead.
Lip split into a demented giggle.
I remember taking a slow step back, my gaze glued to the knife.
Wren’s fingers were wrapped around the handle like he knew exactly how to use it, how to plunge it into my heart and kill me for good. He moved like a predator, zero self awareness or recognition, only driven to kill me.
The dead boy prided himself in slow, intimidating steps, shoving me against the wall and dragging the blade of the knife down the curve of my throat.
His eyes confused me, writhing with hatred that was artificial, programmed into him as Death’s official soldier.
He didn't speak, only smiled, revelling in my fear. I could tell it thrilled him, my trembling hands, my sharp, heavy breaths I couldn't control. Squeezing my eyes shut, I waited to finally die.
I waited for the pain, and to lose my breath once again.
But death was playing with me.
When I opened my eyes, the dead boy was gone, and I was on my knees, screaming.
“Wren Oliver is trying to kill me!" I managed to hiss.
My aunt knelt in front of me, her expression crumpling.
*Sweetie,” She spoke softly, squeezing my hands. Aunt May was trying to appear calm for my sake, but I could tell she was scared, her frantic eyes searching mine. “Wren Oliver is dead.”
The kids surrounding me started to giggle, whispering among themselves.
In the corner of my eye, my cousin was leaning against the door, mid eye roll.
When my aunt was ushering kids back to the pool, Jude came to crouch in front of me. Ever since I started living with him, he'd made sure to keep his distance.
This time, though, Jude leaned uncomfortably close, a sparkle in his eyes I had never seen before. Inclining his head, he rocked back and forth on his heels, prodding me in the forehead.
“If you see the dead boy again, can you tell me?” His lips curved into a smile.
“I did see him.” I gritted out. “I’m not lying.”
Jude shrugged. “I never said you didn't,” he lowered his voice into a whisper, “I wanna know when you see him again.”
“Why?”
His lips curved into a smirk.
“So, I can catch him.”
My cousin got closer, his breath tickling my cheek.
“I seeeeeeee dead people.”
After that incident, death left me alone for a while.
I was fifteen, walking through the forest with a friend, catching fireflies in bell jars. Aunt May was lucky to live so close to the forest, the entrance just outside her back door. When we were littles, PJ would drag Lily and I down the trail to escape Jude’s weird experiments.
I decided to invite Jem Littlewood on a summer walk.
Jem was cute, but in a dorky way. He was chronically clumsy, and dressed like he'd been spat out of a John Hughes movie. We hiked all the way to the end of the river and had a picnic, watching the sun set over the horizon. I was having conflicting feelings for this guy.
Jem was obsessed with fireflies.
Though he seemed more interested in photographing them than me.
The guy couldn't seem to sit still, jumping to his feet to marvel at tiny specks of light dancing in the air.
“I'm just going to take photos!” Jem beamed, holding up his camera.
I had to bite back the urge to say, “Don't you have enough photos?”
I nodded, and he turned and sprinted back down the trail.
Before his footsteps ground to a sudden halt.
At first, I thought he was snapping polaroids.
When I got closer, though, blinking in the eerie dark, I caught something.
Bending down, I picked up a bell jar still spilling fireflies.
Further down the trail, Jem was lying crumpled in the dirt, his camera smashed to pieces next to him, blood running in thick rivulets down his temple. There he was. Leaning against a tree, his arms folded, was the ghost boy. Wren Oliver was growing up with me. Now, a teenager, and yet his face was carved into something else entirely, more of a monster, slight points to his ears and too-sharp teeth, eyes ignited.
Wren didn't look like a ghost boy anymore.
Death had dressed him in shackles of ivy, a crown of glass and bone forced onto his head, entangled in his curls. Death was torturing him.
Wren’s body was its canvas, and every time I got away, he was punished, painting his failures across scarred skin.
I should have been running for my life, but I was mesmerised by each symbol cruelly carved into his neck.
The boy did a slow head incline, like he couldn't believe I was standing in front of him.
His slow spreading smile caught me off guard.
I remembered how to run, stumbling over my feet.
But I couldn't move.
The burning hatred that death had filled him with, was stronger, hollowing him out completely. I managed two shaky steps, before I felt him, an unearthly force winding its way around my spine. This time, he didn't hesitate.
I watched his mouth move, a single curve of his upper lip that wrenched my body from my control, slamming me against a tree. There was something around my throat, choking the breath from my lungs, a thick fog spreading over my eyes.
Following his mouth curving into silent letters, I could feel my feet slowly leaving the ground, my legs dangling.
I was floating.
Hovering off of the ground, suspended by his words.
Through half lidded eyes, I caught the glint of a blade between his fist, but I couldn't move, couldn't scream.
He was drowning me, bleeding into my blood, spider webbing and expanding in my brain without moving a muscle.
Instead, the ghost boy stood silently, running his thumb down the teeth of his knife while he ripped my lungs apart.
It was like suffocating, sinking into that peaceful oblivion I met at eight years old.
This time, though, the darkness was starving.
“Charlie?”
My eyes found daylight, a scream clawing out of my mouth.
“Charlie, it's past curfew!”
Wren flinched, his stoic expression crumpling.
The dead boy’s lips moved again, this time in a curse.
Fuck.
“Charlotte!”
Staggering back, Wren’s eyes widened and the suffocating hold on me severed.
His head snapped in the direction my aunt was coming from.
“Charlie, answer me right now.”
He hesitated, his bare feet pivoting in the dirt, like he was considering finishing me off. Wren studied me with lazy eyes, sucking on his bottom lip. When my aunt's footsteps got louder, branches snapping under her shoes, something contorted in the boy’s face.
Fear.
I guessed the boy wasn't expecting other humans to intrude.
Wren fell over himself, shuffling on his hands and knees, before diving to his feet. When he turned and ran, I was released, slipping to the ground, trying and failing to draw in breath. I barely felt the impact, only a dull thudding pain. I could hear the ghost boy’s footsteps, his uneven, shuddery breaths as he catapulted into a run.
Under a late setting sun, I watched his dancing shadow disappear into the trees.
Mission unsuccessful, I guessed.
When I was fully conscious, Aunt May was checking over Jem, helping him sit up.
“Where did he go?” I managed to get out, scanning the darkness for Wren.
“He's okay, just concussed.” May whispered, dialling 911.
My aunt applied a dressing to Jem’s wound, ignoring the boy’s hisses.
“Keep still.” she murmured, smoothing his bandaid. “What happened, Charlotte?”
“She pushed me over.” Jem groaned, shuffling away from me. When my aunt told him to stay calm, he straightened up, leaning against the tree. “The psycho bitch tried to fucking kill me!”
When my aunt's gaze flicked to me, I shook my head.
“It was Wren Oliver.” I gritted, teetering on hysteria. I could tell she didn't believe me, but I couldn't stop myself.
I prodded at my throat, clawing for the indentations where his phantom fingers snaked around my neck, squeezing the breath from my lungs.
But there was nothing.
I could feel my mind starting to unravel. I nodded to my disgruntled classmate trying to dodge my aunt’s prodding.
“Ow, ow, ow! That stings!
“He knocked Jem out.” I managed. “Then he tried to kill me.”
Jem surprised me with a scoff. “You're seriously blaming your psychotic break on a dead kid?”
Aunt May pursed her lips, motioning for Jem to be quiet. Judging from her face, however, she agreed with the boy.
May forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. “Okay. Can you, uh, describe the boy to me, Charlotte?”
“He was wearing a crown,” I said, “And he looked my age.”
Aunt May cocked her head, and I saw real worry, like she was trying not to freak out. Jem made a snorting noise.
“I'm sorry, he was wearing a crown?”
“Yes!” I insisted, getting progressively more frustrated.
I tried to jump up, only for my aunt to gently lower me back down. “I know it sounds crazy, but death has sent Wren Oliver to kill me, just like my family. He tried to kill me when I was twelve, too!”
Jem let out a bitter laugh. “Your niece is a fucking wackadoodle.”
Aunt May’s eyes darkened. She grabbed my shoulders, her nails stabbing into my skin. “Charlie, I want you to listen to me, okay?” When my eyes found the rapidly darkening sky, my aunt forced me to look at her.
“Charlotte!”
She was as scared as me, her voice shuddering.
“Wren Oliver is dead.” My aunt said firmly, shaking me. Even then, though, I wasn't even looking at her. I was trying to find his ignited eyes lighting up the dark. “Wren died at eight years old in a terrible accident, and you can't keep using him as an excuse for your mental trauma.” There was something twitching in her expression I was trying to make sense of. When I risked a look at Jem, the boy was staring at me dazedly– like I really was crazy.
Aunt May pressed her face into my shoulder, and I could feel her tears soaking into my shirt. She was trying to hold it together, trying to understand.
“Charlie, I know you lost your family,” she whispered. “But you and Wren Oliver are not the same. You survived, and he didn't.” Her voice splintered.
“You need to come to terms with that, okay?”
When I didn't respond, she pinched my chin, forcing me to look at her.
“Charlotte.”
Aunt May’s voice turned cold. “I ignored this when you were a kid, but if you continue to use this poor boy as a coping mechanism, I will have no choice but to send you to a specialist.”
When Jem was taken away by paramedics, Aunt May held my hand, squeezing my fingers for dear life.
I caught her gaze scanning the tree's around us, delving into twisting oblivion. Every little noise sent her twisting around. She was looking for something.
“I'm going to get you help.” Aunt May said in a low murmur when we were back at the house. Jude was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs swinging. I could feel his penetrating gaze burning into the back of my head.
Aunt May set a cup of cocoa on the table.
“No more fairytales.”
By the time I was eighteen, I had bitten three therapists.
They refused to believe that death was coming to reclaim my soul, and was using a dead boy to do his dirty work.
For my 16th birthday, I braced myself to come face to face with Wren Oliver’s ghost.
I wasn't even in town, staying at a friend's house.
But dead boys, and especially dead boys moulded into Death’s personal soldiers, could materialise anywhere.
I locked every door in the house, and taped up my friend’s window.
Nothing happened.
On my seventeenth birthday, I was sick in bed with gastritis.
Still no ghost boy.
Death seemed to have finally left me alone.
On my eighteenth birthday, I was stuffing books in my locker when my cousin popped up out of nowhere, scowling as usual. After an unexpected growth spurt and losing a tonne of baby fat, my cousin had scaled the high school hierarchy, swapping his weird experiments for a varsity jacket and experimenting with his sexuality.
The two of us had come to an unspoken truce.
I kept quiet about his spider collection to his popular friends, and he tolerated my existence until I left for college.
“Your surprise party is cancelled.”
Jude leaned against my locker, running a hand through thick dark hair tucked under a baseball cap. Jude never admitted it, but he was definitely embarrassed of being the odd one out.
My siblings may be dead, but they were still redheads.
I pulled off his cap with a smile, throwing it in his face. “Sure it is.”
My cousin’s eyes widened. He lost his slick bravado, grabbing for his cap.
“Hey!”
According to my cousin, my party was unexpectedly cancelled every year.
I wasn't sure if it was his weird superiority complex, or just plain jealousy, but it was getting exhausting.
Jude followed me down the hallway, matching my stride.
“Can you just not come home tonight?”
I quickened my pace. “It's only a party. I'm having some friends over, and no, we won't go anywhere near your room.”
“No, I mean.” Jude stepped in front of me, and for the first time in a while, he wasn't trying to hide disdain for me.
His dark eyes pinned me in place for a moment, the world around us coming to a halt. Sound bled away, and all I heard were his slow breaths. There was something there, an unexplainable twitch in his eyes and lips, that twisted my gut.
Jude stepped closer, his lip curling. He shoved me back, losing his facade.
“Stay the fuck away from the house tonight.” He said, and his voice, his tone, was enough to send shivers creeping down my spine. Jude had always hid behind a ten foot wall in his mind. It was jarring to see something in him finally start to splinter. Fuck. I thought.
This kid had serious Mommy issues.
I blinked, and the world resumed, kids pushing past us.
Jude seemed to catch himself, slipping back under his mask.
“I'm having friends over,” he rolled his eyes, “Your presence will ruin the vibe.”
“It's my birthday?”
He groaned, tipping his head back. “Yes, I know. But–”
“I think you can deal with the attention off of you for one night, Jude.”
“Will Wren Oliver be there too?” Jem Littlewood hollered.
Jude didn't respond for a moment, his lip curling.
“Shut the fuck up.” He spat at Jem, who immediately backed down. With an audience this time, Jude forced an award winning smile. “Fine.” His lips split into a grin I knew he hated. My cousin clamped his hand on my shoulder, hard enough to hurt. I could feel his fingers pinching the material of my jacket. “Have it your way, dude.”
Jude backed away with a two fingered salute.
“Happy 78th birthday!”
In a sense, I wish I listened to my cousin.
My party was a success, sort of.
Four of us, a crate of beers, and no sign of my cousin.
I was mildly tipsy, sitting on the edge of the pool, dangling my legs in the water when my friend demanded more beers.
I was also hungry for cake, so I stumbled inside in search of the goods.
The house was dark, lit up in dazzling blue from the pool's lights reflecting through the windows. Aunt May was in her office on the ground floor, and Jude was getting high in his room. In my drunken state, I found myself marvelling my aunt's house, and how much of it was left unexplored.
For example, in the foyer, past the spiral staircase she’d had custom made, was an elevator I had never questioned.
There was a girl my age standing on the staircase.
She was frozen, mid run, dressed in ragged jeans and t-shirt.
Everything about her stuck out to me, bringing me to a sobering halt.
The girl reminded me of my sister– or at least, if my sister had ever grown up.
I wasn't sure if I was drunk or hallucinating.
Her flower crown was pretty…
Lily had grown wings.
I was slowly moving towards her, a sudden bang sounding from the kitchen.
The bang of something shattering on the floor.
Twisting around, I found myself gravitating towards warm golden light.
The first thing I saw was the refrigerator door hanging open, and someone, no, something, rooting around inside it.
Glued to the spot, I dazedly watched them grab milk, guzzling it down, and then soda, cracking open each can and sucking them dry, before carving their fingers into my birthday cake.
But I wasn't looking at the spillage of food seeping across the floor. Instead, my gaze found a crown of antlers, both human and animal bone entangled with dead flowers and human remains glued to a head of familiar matted brown curls. There was something sticking from battered and bruised flesh, twin gaping slits sliced through a torn shirt resembling glass wings that were not yet formed, reminding me of a butterfly.
Wings.
But not the wings I dreamed of as a kid. These things were unnatural mounds that both did and didn't make sense on a human boy. I could see the trauma of them slicing through his flesh, monstrous, looming things protruding from what was left of a human spine.
Human, and yet I couldn't call his beautifully grotesque face human.
Wren Oliver had grown up with me, now an adult.
Eighteen years old.
His clothes confused me, a single white shirt and shorts.
Wren’s feet were bare, battered and bruised, blood smearing my aunt's tiles.
Angel.
Death had turned his footsoldier, and my future killer, into an angel.
But there was nothing angelic about the dead boy, his body and mind sculpted and moulded into Death’s own.
The boy no longer resembled a human, feral eyes and a manic smile, choking down pieces of cake. His face had been contorted into a monster, gnashing teeth and sharp points in his ears, a sickly tinge to malnourished skin.
And that's when it hit me, watching him stuff himself with food.
Something slimy inched its way up my throat.
The boy didn't move. I don't even think he'd noticed me, gorging himself on anything he could get his hands on.
Chicken, raw bacon, leftover salad.
When he moved onto cupcakes, licking frosting from his fingers, I glimpsed markings on his arms, a language I didn't understand, carved into him.
His wrists were shackled, bound, in entangled iron and vine, iron that was ingrained into his skin, vines and flowers and ivy entangling his bones, that were part of him, polluting his blood. Slowly, my eyes found stab wounds splitting open his torso.
Raw flesh, where his skin had been torched, melting, and then merging, ripped apart and put back together over and over again.
I found his heart, the gaping cavern in his chest where it should be.
And it was.
Marked, carved, and branded with a symbol resembling an X.
Wren Oliver was not dead.
But, just like me, he should have been.
I remember saying his name, my voice slurred slightly.
I didn't drink that much, but I could barely coerce words, my head spinning.
Wren’s neck snapped towards me, his eyes narrowing with resentment I couldn't understand, hatred that seemed to puppeteer him. Slowly tilting his head, the boy’s lips split into a grin, eyes filled, polluted, with mania.
I could see where his lips had been stitched shut, and then ripped open.
“Hi.”
He held up his hand in an awkward wave.
When one of my friends stumbled into the kitchen, Wren reacted on impulse.
He picked up a knife from the counter, throwing it like a dart, straight through the guy’s throat.
Something shattered inside my mind.
Ignoring my friend bleeding out, Wren stumbled over himself, abandoning his feast. He took a single step towards me, backing me against the wall, coming so close, close enough for me to feel his very real breath grazing my cheeks. Just like when he was a kid, he traced the teeth of his blade down my throat. I wasn't expecting him to burst out laughing, trembling with hysteria.
His eyes were wild, feral and wrong, almost euphoric.
With what all I could only recognise as relief.
BANG.
I was barely aware of the gunshot.
The bullet went straight through his head, the winged boy hitting the ground.
Dead.
I saw the blood stemming around him in a halo before the bleeding pool faltered, seeping back inside his head.
Like rewinding a VCR.
Wren was dead, and then he was alive.
Wren’s body contorted, his chest inflating.
His gasp for air was painful, strangled, eyes opening wide.
Terrified.
“You fucking idiot.”
Jude’s voice sent me twisting around.
My cousin stood in the exact same robes he wore as a child.
The world tipped off kilter, and I was on my knees, then my stomach.
I sunk to the floor, my thoughts swimming.
Jude’s murmur followed me, creeping into the dark.
“I told you not to come home.”
I can't remember how long I was unconscious for.
When I woke, I was dressed in an evening gown, a dress that used to be my mother’s.
My vision cleared, and I found myself sitting in an unfamiliar room resembling an abandoned swimming hall.
The pool itself was empty, the bottom stained revealing scarlet.
There were symbols carved into each tile.
Like a game.
“Sit up straight, Charlotte.”
I was sitting at a banquet.
Jude was in front of me, sipping on wine.
He caught my eye for half a second before averting his gaze.
At the far end of the table sat my aunt May.
Kissing the rim of her glass, her smile was twisted.
“I've been waiting so long to give you your birthday presents, Charlotte. Your memories should be returning soon.”
“Mom.” Jude muttered, hiding behind his glass. “Calm down. You're embarrassing yourself.”
Ignoring my cousin, May tapped her glass with a fork, and in walked my birthday presents.
No, dragged.
By their hair.
Wren Oliver, the dead boy, was in fact my aunt's prisoner.
Behind him, was the girl who looked so much like Lily.
I think that's why my aunt chose her.
Aunt May cleared her throat.
“For a long time, our family has lived among creatures who live in the forest you played inside. In exchange for keeping this town safe, they only ask for small favors. Wayward children who disappear into the woods are good enough payment. Charlie, you and your siblings do not share our inheritance. Your mother never wanted fae children. She wanted you to be human.”
Aunt May’s smile faded.
“After losing my sister, and my niece and nephew, I made a deal to give my last surviving niece 100 years of life.”
Her words were white noise, my gaze glued to my birthday presents. I couldn't call them human anymore.
I couldn't call Wren human, when his face was so beautifully grotesque, painfully hypnotising.
The monstrous things sticking from twin slits in his back were supposed to be wings, except they looked wrong, cruelly protruding from his exposed spine. Under the influence of alcohol earlier, the girl made me smile.
Her wings, to me, looked like one of a real fairy.
In reality, they were torn and shredded apart, bigger than the girl herself.
When she dropped onto her stomach, she was dragged back to her feet, her knees buckling under the weight. Her tiara of flowers and bone looked pretty to me when I saw her on the stairs.
Now, though, I could see the pearly white of a human child's skull forced onto her head, dead flowers threaded through cavernous, gaping eye sockets.
The two of them were violently shoved into the empty pool.
“Jude. Please demonstrate, sweetheart.”
Jude stood, pulling out a gun, and aiming it at the winged girl.
BANG.
The girl’s body hit the tiles, her blood seeping across stained white.
“Now, of course, our king did not give you life for free.” May continued.
“The King demanded a debt, as well as two heirs to join him in his court once your hundred years were complete.”
Her lips quirked into a smile.
“The king is smart. If a child cannot be stolen from the human world, they can, however, be made, moulded and shaped from their human forms, skinned of their humanity through their suffering, leaving a hollowed out shell in the child's place.” She was speaking so casually, ignoring Wren’s whimpers.
“The conversion takes a while. 100 years to birth a fully blooded fae heir, who will lose their human memories, in preparation to join their new family.”
Jude shot Wren in the chest, his eyes empty.
This time, he dropped his weapon, using finger-guns instead.
“Bang.” He deadpanned.
Then the neck.
I watched Wren come back to life, and then die.
Over and over again.
I think at one point, he screamed and cried.
But not now.
He was their puppet on display, dancing for their entertainment.
Half lidded eyes drowned in oblivion found mine, and I understood his hatred.
Before he was shot again.
Stabbed.
Branded and burned, and ripped apart.
At some point, I screamed at them to stop. I couldn't breathe, slamming my hands over my ears and begging them.
Aunt May didn't listen, ordering for my hands to be tied down.
“The King required two human sacrifices to suffer in your place.” She concluded. “For one hundred years.”
Aunt May’s smile was suddenly sad, and she lifted her glass in a toast.
I was watching their blood trickle down each tile in the pool, like every death, every time they suffered, my body became progressively less human.
I felt disgusting. I wasn't supposed to be alive. Every single year of my life, every breath I had taken, was stolen.
Aunt May nodded at me, her lips forming a proud smile. She stood up, and was handed a sacrificial knife.
Climbing into the swimming pool herself, she strode over to Wren.
The boy slumped to the floor, trembling, his knees against his chest.
Aunt May grabbed him by the hair, forcing his head up, and sliced the blade across his throat.
His eyes flicked to me, and I swore he smiled.
Spots of red dotted yellowing tiles, a river trickling under my aunt's heels.
“Happy 78th birthday, Charlotte.”
Last night ended with me being locked in my room.
It's been almost 15 hours, and the door is still locked. Please help me. I'm fucking terrified of what my aunt is planning.
I can't stop shgajing. FycjbfucibFUCK
If she is telling the truth, I shouldn't be here, right??
And I can't stop thinking.
Is Wren Oliver trying to kill me, or himself?

Hi all. We are currently planning to take in my wife's aunties cat, she can no longer care for her due to health reasons.
I have never actually seen the cat but was given so photos recently and it seems she is quite overweight, coming in at just over 6kilos. We will be taking her to the vets to get a full check and some advice on weight loss but was wondering, from anyone here's experience, how long does a dieting period take and how stressful it can be for the animal. Not looking for medical advice, we will get that from the vet, more just along the lines of how difficult it was.
She is a seven year old mixed breed and we currently have 3 healthy, in good shape cats of our own if that makes any difference.
Thanks in advance

This is my Aunt's story which happened to her when she was fifteen, back in the early 2000s.
My family are from London but we are ethnically Bengali. This story starts when my Aunt and her family all went for a trip back to our ancestral country of Bangladesh.
They visited her father's village, or I should say my grandfather's village. It was in the middle of nowhere surrounded by endless paddy fields. The village consisted of a few really old houses, dating back to the days of colonial Britain, all built around a big pond. There was a small mosque nearby and further away from the mosque, was a small forest. My Aunt and her siblings were told by the village elders not to venture into the forest, where there was an old banyan tree. According to them, that specific banyan tree was supposedly haunted.
One evening my Aunt and her siblings along with some of the village children went into the forest to play, despite being warned not to go over there. The village children assured that they played in the forest many times and nothing happened to them, as long as they didn't go near that tree. The children showed my Aunt and her siblings the infamous tree and they all agreed to stay away.
The tree looked very old and creepy with its trunk twisted and its branches protruding far and wide. Despite its appearance, my Aunt was not so gullible, as being one of the older children in her family. She found all this talk of haunted trees to be silly and just a tall tale told by the elders of the village to scare the children. However she agreed to stay away.
My Aunt wasn't playing as she felt that she was too old for such childish games and was only there to supervise the youngsters. The kids started playing 'It' then afterwards played 'Hide and Seek'. The village children started begging my Aunt to play with them and to be the seeker. After a while of persuading, she agreed and reluctantly started to count as the kids started to run and look for the best places to hide. Once she was done counting, she went on the hunt to look for them. She managed to find a few of the kids quick enough, mainly the younger ones, but a few were left yet to be found deeper in the forest.
My Aunt walked further in and shortly after she happened to stumble upon the banyan tree. She smirked and decided to caress the ancient bark of the tree, going against her promise. She saw that one of the tree's boughs hung low and thought it would be a nice spot to sit for a while and take in the scenery. After the short respite, she pressed on. When she found all the kids, they all decided to finish the game as it was dusk and the forest was growing dark. Everyone heard the call to prayer from the mosque nearby, so they all proceeded to walk out of the forest and back home.
That night, my Aunt awoke mid sleep due to the heat. In the village there were no street lights so everything was pitch black and all you could hear were the sounds of crickets and frogs from the pond. She tossed and turned as she tried to go back to sleep but started hearing a peculiar noise outside her open window. It was a metallic clinking sound. The sound grew persistant, clinking every second. She looked through the grate of the window and saw nothing but the night staring back at her. She decided to call out quietly hoping for a response, but nothing. Shortly after, the sound stopped so my Aunt brushed it off thinking nothing of it and went back to sleep.
After a few days, the family left my grandfather's village and were heading back to the city airport. Their trip had come to an end and it was time to return home, back to the UK. While they were saying farewell to everyone my Aunt saw a woman further behind from everyone else, staring at her. My Aunt never seen that woman before during their stay. She thought why no one had introduced her to the woman as the village was all family orientated. What was very strange was that the woman was dressed in a traditional red bridal saree with a garland around her neck, golden bangles on her wrists and a headpiece hanging down her forehead. My Aunt asked one of her sisters who that bride was but her sister couldn't give her an answer due to the commotion.
When they were at the airport and lining up to be boarded, my Aunt's eyes wondered around. Nothing but families all seated and waiting for their respective flights. She then caught a glimpse of a woman in a peculiar red saree. She realised it was that same woman from the village. The woman was further away from the waiting line, just standing in one place and looking at people walk past her. My Aunt found it odd that she was at the same airport as them despite being seen at the village earlier. Also what was strange was that the woman was in a bride's attire in the middle of a busy airport, which would be completely unheard of over there. She had no luggage with her or anyone accompanying her.
On board the plane, my Aunt was coming back from the bathroom and was suprised to see the woman again, sitting alone and staring out of the window. She asked my grandmother that she had seen the woman in the village and asked who she was. My grandmother was too tired to answer and dismissed her question. My Aunt concluded that the woman must have been from one of the nearby villages and was passing through their's as she was also heading towards the airport. She then tried to forget all about it.
Back home in London, after a good few days, my Aunt and her family all went to visit another one of my uncles' house. It was tradition to visit relatives when returning home, back from a visit to Bangladesh. When they all entered the living room and greeted everyone, my Aunt was absolutely shocked to see the same familiar woman in the red saree from the village and the plane. My Aunt was very puzzled but thought that the woman must have been related to the family. This was proof.
Everyone was talking and my grandfather was recounting their time in the old country. My Aunt was watching the woman and found it weird that she was just standing in the corner just listening to the conversation. My Aunt also realised that the woman never spoke a single word and couldn't recall anyone ever speaking to her since they entered the house. She wondered why the woman was still dressed up as a bride and found it very bizarre.
When it was time to eat, everyone was getting ready to sit down at the table. My Aunt was one of the last ones to get up but realised the woman was staring at her and smiling. She decided to say hello to the woman and ask her who she was in Bengali. The woman didn't respond, she just continued to smile at my Aunt. She thought the woman was just shy as that was quite normal behaviour for village women in Bangladesh. She felt abit awkward and started complimenting on the woman's attire and her payal anklets. "Who are you speaking to?" My uncle said across the room in Bengali. The room was silent and everyone was staring at my Aunt in confusion. My Aunt pointed at the woman, bewildered by my uncle's question. "What? There's no one there." My Aunt's sister responded. My Aunt thought everyone was playing a joke on her but shortly after realised they were all being serious. She started to freak out. She kept saying that there was a woman in the room but everyone kept insisting that there wasn't anyone there. Everyone started worrying as my Aunt was hyperventilating at the sight of the mysterious red figure smiling back at her. She eventually passed out.
A while later, my Aunt came around and found herself lying on the couch, resting her head on my grandmother's lap and her sisters all huddled beside her. My Aunt didn't see the woman anymore where she had been previously standing. My Aunt darted her eyes around the room to double check if the woman was still there. She wasn't.
On the opposite couch, there was an imam from the local mosque. He was a family friend and a respected community leader called over by my uncle. The imam asked my Aunt what happened and she explained that she saw the woman first in the village and kept seeing her until that very day and only she was able to see her, as confirmed by everyone else. After careful consideration, the imam said it sounded like some nefarious entity had followed her from the village and latched itself on to her.
My grandfather started to interrogate my Aunt about the forest and the old banyan tree and eventually she admitted to everyone that she sat on the bough of the tree. When my grandfather heard that, he got very angry and scolded her. He repeated that tree was haunted and questioned why she didn't listen to the village elders. My Aunt explained that she thought it was all a joke. When the imam asked why my grandfather had thought that the tree was haunted, my grandfather never gave an explanation and said that he would tell him afterwards in private.
The imam recited some prayers and blew on my Aunt. My Aunt couldn't remember most of that encounter as she blacked out again however, according to everyone present in the room, she started to freak out and started to act manic when she heard the prayers. She started growling and her eyes looked like they were about to burst from their sockets. She attempted to lunge at the imam, but everyone held her down. A while later, the imam left the house and eventually returned back and gave her special water to drink daily and oil to rub her body with after everytime she bathed. This was all part of a long exorcism process known as 'ruqya', in arabic.
That night, my Aunt was too afraid to sleep so my grandmother slept in the same bed next to her while one of her sisters slept on the top bunk. My Aunt awoke after a long slumber. Her eyes started slowly adjusting to the darkness but she was still in a sleepy haze. She realised she could hear a clinking sound to her right towards the window. She thought it was her sister causing a racket so she groggily told her to be quiet. When the noise didn't relent, my Aunt turned and looked towards the window. It wasn't her sister. To her absolute horror my Aunt saw a dark figure sitting on the windowsill. She quickly realised that the metallic sound were the sounds of bangles and anklets being played with. My Aunt's eyes fully adjusted to the dark and it became evident that the figure was indeed that of the woman. My Aunt screamed her lungs out and the whole house awoke.
The second visit from the imam explained to my Aunt that whatever she kept seeing would not go away on its own. She would continue to see it unless she completed her religious treatment which he reminded her, was a very long process. My Aunt's family was certain that it was a spiritual matter and not a psychological one. My Aunt never displayed any signs of mental illness in the past.
Days passed and my Aunt saw the woman everywhere, though she did get occasional respites from the woman. The woman would show up one day and might follow my Aunt wherever she went, but the next couple of days would not be seen at all.
She would see the woman at school standing by the whiteboard in her classroom, looking at the pupils like she was teaching the lesson. The woman would be seen when my Aunt was hanging out with her mates in the park after school, just watching them from the trees. When my Aunt would go shopping in the supermarket with her family, the woman was there waiting for her at the aisles and always followed them far behind as they shopped. Someday it would be in the same room as my Aunt, other days it would be seen through the window on the street. Some nights when my Aunt was laying in bed, she would hear the slow clinking sound of the woman's anklets going up the stairs. The sound would stop whenever it reached my Aunt's bedroom door, as if the figure was waiting to be let in. The woman once was encountered when the family were all sitting at the table to eat and my Aunt found her sitting under the table with her forehead resting on her knees. She screamed surprisingly but quickly disregarded the matter in order to not scare her family.
The ominous figure never spoke. It never harmed my Aunt directly or made any threatening acts towards her. The woman just smiled that eerie smile. My Aunt continued her religious treatment which in turn made her very weak and sapped her spirit. The imam would visit her often and she would have many more exorcism rituals carried out on her, all she could never recount.
My Aunt tried her best to get on with her life and started to get used to the figure always being around that she stopped feeling afraid of it. She even started to talk to it. She used to talk about random things and the woman just responded with silence. Although she got close to the figure at times, my Aunt never dared to touch it.
A couple of years passed and the mysterious woman would appear less frequently, like only a couple of times a month. Eventually she stopped appearing altogether and was gone for good. My Aunt completed her years long spiritual treatment. She felt a huge relief but at the same time in a very bizarre and twisted way, she felt sad and empty. That figure was in her life for so long that she grew so accustomed to it and saw it as normal. For her not seeing the woman anymore was a huge change in reality. This whole ordeal did take a huge mental toll on her throughout the couple of years and my Aunt was never truly the same after that.
One afternoon my grandfather decided to shed some light into the past as he felt like it was the right time for my Aunt to learn the truth. He showed her a very old black and white photograph dating back to the 50s. It was him and his parents and siblings all in a family portrait. My Aunt`s eyes widened and her jaw dropped as she saw an old familiar face in the centre of the photo. It was her. The woman in the bridal saree. Garland, bangles, everything. She was next to a man dressed as a groom.
My grandfather explained to her that long ago, he had a sister. That photo was from her wedding day. The story was that she was married to a man from the neighbouring village but she did not want to get married to him. My grandfather's sister was at first promised to another suitor since they were children. A good, kind man from another nearby village. She grew up with the idea that she would marry that man when she came of age. However the man she actually ended up marriying offered a larger dowry and so her father then changed his mind and instead accepted that man to take his daughter's hand despite the previous arrangement and his daughter's protest. In Bangladesh it's the father's word over his daughter`s wishes and she was doomed to spend her entire life with a man she did not desire. So in the night, after the marriage ceremony was completed, she was due to move in with the groom and his family and relocate to the other village. My grandfather's sister did not hesitate and ran off in a frenzy in the dark, never to be seen again on her wedding night. The next morning when she was found, it was deep in the forest, and hanging by her neck from a branch of the old banyan tree. My Aunt could not believe it while she heard the story as her eyes welled up with tears.
When the imam visited the house one day he clarified that, what my Aunt encountered was not my grandfather's sister. It was a jinn who took the form of her and followed my Aunt back home to London. For those who don't know, jinns are demons in the Islamic world. In Islam, there is no notion of ghosts being trapped in their last moments of life. There's only the jinn that imitate the deceased person and prey upon people.
The reason why the old banyan tree was perceived as haunted by the villagers was not only because of my grandaunt's tragic demise. A few other horrific events happened revolving that tree in the past. Once a passing traveler was caught stealing jewellery from the village and was chased by the villagers into the forest and was hacked to death with machetes. The thief's body was slumped down resting on the trunk of the banyan tree with his blood painting the bark red. Another story was that a witch was caught doing black magic deep in the forest where bloody menstrual rags and torn up pages of the qur'an with black markings and grids scribbled all over, were found hanging from the tree.
Whoever interacted with that tree always reported to experience some sort of supernatural activity one way or another. That day, when my Aunt first explained to everyone about the woman, my grandfather had a strong feeling that she was talking about his deceased sister.
I didn't remember this whole ordeal when it happened at the time because I was very young, but the story was told to me by various family members when I was older. It was only recently that my Aunt and I were talking at a family function and she retold her story to me herself in the utmost detail. Her story was always the focal point whenever the subject of the paranormal arose during family conversations.
A couple of people think my Aunt was just suffering from mental illness during that time, although this doesn't make any sense. My Aunt never knew of my grandfather's sister before that revelation. My grandfather never once mentioned or showed a picture of his sister to either my Aunt or her siblings while they were growing up, neither did my grandmother. It was a painful, touchy subject and it was never heard or mentioned. I believe my Aunt and this was very real to her and it greatly impacted her life growing up as it permanently left a mark on her. I'm just glad that she is back to normal and that the woman in the red saree was gone for good.
I have more scary stories which happened to other family members so if you would like to hear them, let me know.

My ex (baby daddy) came over to my house to make dinner for me and daughter lastnight and help me out since I recently broke my ankle. After dinner he was saying how tired he was, and to get her to mellow out he gave her his tablet. He passed out on the couch and me and my daughter went into the room to play games on the tablet and relax before bed. I decided to investigate his iPad just out of pure curiosity and amusement. I tried to stop myself but I’m just naturally snoopy. I went to messages and seen he was texting a girl named “Katie” thought she was just some random white girl he met. Whatever. Then looking at the photos she sent to him, I realized her name isn’t Katie and in fact I know her and have met her. It’s so random because I would never think they would be a thing. My aunties are friends with this girl, they’ve all worked together. I start digging more and I seen very sexually explicit messages. Whatever. Then I see that they were getting into a very heated argument about this secret they have and my ex was threatening to send her nudes to her fiancé. Her fiance grew up with my mom and they are friends. I immediately called my mom after gathering evidence to tell her what I just discovered and she said her friend told her last week that she suspected them. A few weeks prior my mom’s friend went to a party at “Katie’s” house and my ex and daughter attended. My daughter had to use the bathroom so my mom’s friend took my daughter to use the bathroom and she was surprised that my 3 year old daughter already knew where the bathroom was. After they got done with the bathroom they walked passed the bedroom where my daughter said “that’s where aunty does my makeup” then my moms friend swore she heard my ex tell “Katie” I love you. So it was to my surprise that my mom already knew but it wasn’t factual. My mom said this guy is the most humble, chill, sweetest guy ever and she feels bad but doesn’t want to get involved in drama. Neither do I. But ai can’t help but feel bad for the guy. I mostly just mad that my ex would bring my daughter to this guys house and sleep with his fiance while he’s not there in HIS BED and to bring my daughter into that situation crosses the line completely. What should we do with this information? HELP

How do you all feel about dating/marrying a woman darker than you? Do you feel attracted to them? And will you be OK with what the people around you say?
Recently met a girl online and we connected really well. She was nice, funny, and I liked her. Showed my mom her photo and she said that while she might seem nice she won't be a good partner for me. I didn't understand at first but gradually understood that the reason was her skin colour. My mom went on about how having a girl fairer than or equal to me would keep my life peaceful socially.
I have met people talking on this matter but usually it was only the aunties and some teenagers. I didn't think it was a big deal.