It startled when she poked me on my shoulder while standing behind me. I didn't have to turn to look at her as I already knew who it was. She carries an unsettling aura, and I could feel her eyes burning through my skin.

"I can end your pathetic life without leaving any traces that might lead back to me," she said.

I always take her threats seriously. I have no reason not to believe her because she makes sure to act on them. Believe me when I say, they aren't just empty threats—those are promises that she intends to keep.

It's hard to even try to tell my father what she's been up to lately because I know my father will always pick her side. She has him wrapped around her finger, ensnaring him in a web of deceit and manipulation.

Every time I gather the courage to speak up, the words die in my throat. The fear of not being believed, of being dismissed, paralyzes me. Her presence is a constant shadow, a sinister force that pervades our home. It's not just her words that are dangerous; it's the way she moves, the way she smiles—like a predator toying with its prey.

I've learned to navigate this treacherous terrain, staying out of her way as much as possible, but the tension is always there, simmering beneath the surface. I've become a master of avoidance, but she always finds me, reminding me of the power she holds.

Living under the same roof with her is like being trapped in a cage with a lioness. She waits, watches, and strikes when you least expect it. Every day is a battle for survival, a fight to keep my sanity intact. My only solace is the hope that one day, I might find a way to escape her grasp, to break free from this nightmare.

Until then, I must endure, I must survive, because in this house, with the devil in my home, the only rule is to never let your guard down.