" EVERYTHING IS WHITE"
Nobody lives a perfect life.
But my mother's suicide doesn't makes sense to me.yes,it was a suicide.the police confirmed it,she took overdose of her medicine.
She wasn't the kind of woman who would just give up.especially not with a sixteen year old daughter waiting for her, fresh off a two-week summer camp. She was many things: nervous, overprotective, even timid. But not cruel.
Or maybe… I never really knew her at all.
Moving in with Aunt Serena and Uncle Ethan turned out to be easier than I'd imagined. Quieter. Softer, somehow.
When we arrived, I stepped out of the car and just stood there, staring at the property.
It was massive,towering and elegant in a way that made my old home feel like a dollhouse. A perfectly trimmed lawn stretched toward a white-painted exterior. The windows were wide, framed in matte black, like the house was always watching. At the front, a pair of sleek black sconces flanked the tall double doors, casting just enough shadow to feel cinematic.
Uncle Ethan moved ahead to unlock the door. He looked calm—mid-to-late twenties, with sun-kissed skin, striking green eyes, and a kind of casual handsomeness that belonged in movies.
I glanced at Aunt Serena. She was still holding my hand.
She looked down at me and smiled. I smiled back, but it didn't quite reach my eyes.
Then we stepped inside.
And for a moment, I forgot everything.
The house was stunning—like something out of a magazine. Spacious. Warm, but not in a cozy way—in an expensive, polished way. The foyer gleamed. A grand staircase curled upward toward the first floor, its banister dark wood and cool to the touch. The air inside smelled like vanilla and something faintly floral.
This wasn't what I expected.
It was more.
And somehow, that made everything feel even stranger.
Aunt Serena takes a deep breath, her gaze flicking briefly to Uncle Ethan, who's placing the last of the bags in the living room.
"Do you like your new home, Odessa?" she asks gently.
My eyes pull away from the sweeping beauty of the house and land on her face.
"Yes… yes, I do," I manage.
Uncle Ethan speaks from across the room, not looking at me. "Thats everything?"
"Mhm," Aunt Serena replies softly.
She then takes my hand and leads me upstairs. When she opens the door to my new bedroom, I freeze for a second—caught off guard by how… strange it feels.
Strange, not in the way of clutter or mess. But in its unsettling perfection.
Everything is white.
The walls, the carpet, the frilled curtains—soft and ghostly. A canopy bed sits at the center of the room, draped in off-white floral sheets that look like they've never been touched. French windows bathe the room in pale light. A vintage white dresser with three arched mirrors glints faintly beneath the chandelier.
But it's the bookshelf that holds me still.
It's packed—floor to ceiling—with porcelain dolls.
Dozens of them.
Delicate, glassy-eyed, unmoving.
Staring.
Each one with a painted smile and empty, watching gaze.
My skin prickles.
I glance at Aunt Serena. She's beaming at me, expectant and proud.
"I… love it," I say, forcing a smile. "It's so pretty. Thank you."
Her smile widens. She presses a hand to her chest, clearly moved.
"Of course, Essa," she says warmly. "I'm glad you like it. I'm just down the hall if you need anything."
She wraps her arms around me, pulling me into a hug. The sudden affection catches me off guard, and I feel something welling in my throat,tears I didn't know were coming.
Then she lets go. Gives me one last look. And quietly steps out, closing the door behind her.
And just like that, I'm alone.
Alone… with all those eyes.
My eyes drift around the room, lingering on the shelves—those porcelain dolls.
Dozens of them.
Perfectly still. Perfectly wrong.
Their glassy stares seem to pierce right through me, like they know things they shouldn't. Like they're waiting for something.
A shiver runs down my spine.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the center mirror.
There I am—ghostly pale, with raven-black hair falling around my face. My eyes, unnaturally blue just like my mother, almost white in the dim light. I look like I've been pulled from a painting. Or a grave.
I don't look exactly like my mother.
Aunt Serena does. They were identical, like a mirrored reflection of one another.
The only difference is... one of them is still alive.
If I hadn't gone to that stupid camp...
Maybe I could've stopped her.
Maybe she'd still be here.
No.
No, it's not my fault.
She's the one who made me go. Practically pushed me out the door.
Still... I never thought she'd actually—
I squeeze my eyes shut.
No.
Don't think like that.
I shake the thoughts away and crawl into the bed. The mattress is absurdly soft, like sinking into cotton candy. A chandelier dangles above, glittering quietly in the low light like a frozen constellation. The room should be peaceful. It should be beautiful.
Maybe sleep will help.
But just as my eyes begin to close… I see it.
Two eyes. Watching me from across the room.
Not the dolls.
Worse.
They gleam faintly in the dark. Wide, round, and too still.
Not blinking.
Not human.
My heart seizes. My breath catches.
And suddenly, I'm not so sure I'm alone.