The wind howled through the thin attic walls as Kyle flipped through his family’s well-aged photo album, each page heavy with fading polaroids. It was clear no one had opened the book in years- who knew how much longer it would have been had he not been instructed to help his mother organize the drafty loft. It had been nearly an hour before he came to her picture- a stoic young woman, arms folded, sitting upon a chair in a barren room. Curiously, the page on which she appeared had seemingly been torn from the binding, reattached along jagged angles with yellowing tape some time thereafter. Her image had appeared nowhere else in the anthology, yet she bore a haunting familiarity-the closest resemblance being to his deceased cousin Samuel
Though according to preceeding family snapshots, Samuel had no siblings. The only clue was her name, scribed at the photo’s edge- Sophia. “Mom?” Kyle asked, bringing the leatherbound compendium over to his mother, busily refolding a box of hand towels. “Do you know who this is?” Upon viewing the photo, Kyle’s mother momentarily froze. It was an image she had only seen once before, years ago- and until that moment, had succeeded in forgetting the gruesome story harbored within it. “No, I’m sorry honey, I don’t,” she eventually replied, electing to conceal the true identity of the girl. Her nephew Samuel had died- in a sense. It was best that the grisly account of what his parents had done to him die as well.
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