I stared at my phone until the battery icon began to blink.

The sight filled me with frustration, unsure if we were any closer to our destination or just aimlessly driving through the endless mountain roads. I watched my father intently as he gripped the steering wheel tightly, sweat beading on his forehead. His face, etched with deep concern, revealed a spark of fear in his eyes.

"Dad, are you ok?"

He answered with a simple nod, his eyes flicking toward the window every few seconds as if searching for something. The silence in the car felt heavy, broken only by the soft ticking of the hula doll swaying on the dashboard. Finally, the dreaded warning flashed on my screen—fifteen percent of battery left. Soon, I'd have nothing but the endless blur of trees ahead to occupy my time. I removed my earbuds and took a deep breath, preparing myself for the inevitable monotony ahead.

"How much longer until we get to the new house?" I asked my dad, noticing his frown deepened after the ninth time I have posed the same question.

"Relax, will arrive soon."

I leaned back in my seat, gazing out at the passing trees, desperately trying to maintain my composure and prevent myself from screaming like a crazy maniac. The unchanging greenery of the foliage and the annoying sound of the hula bubble head on the dashboard, made me question the decisions I've made recently.

In the wake of my mother's death, my father made the decision to pursue a fresh start. I understood his reasoning. Living in the same house, surrounded by memories, won't offer the necessary environment for grieving or moving forward. However, I feel like I lost in this gamble as well. It wasn't just memories that were left behind; it was also friends, potential relationships, and a reputation that I have spent years cultivating. Those things, I will miss the most.

Yet, in the grand scheme of things, none of it seems to matter anymore now that my mother is gone.

"You are quiet, Tobias." My father said, taking a quick glance at me. "Anything running recklessly through that mind of yours?"

I sighed, before responding. " Nothing, just bored."

"Or maybe you are mad at me because you lost your chance to kiss that chic- what was her name? Daniella?"

I grew slightly irritated at his comment. "That's none of your business. Keep your eyes on the road, or you're going get us killed."

My father chuckles after noticing, I was getting uncomfortable with his questioning. "No faith in your old man? Well, I am glad we are trying new things. I have no doubts you will be king of the high school once again."

"Yeah, right."

"I am dead serious, I really am."

"What makes you think I was doing well back home?"

"Student of the year, twice. A GPA higher than my credit score and the multiple times your mother was summoned to the principal's office."

He nailed multiple points, but I was not going to let him win the argument. "I had nothing to do with that."

"Of course. Other parents are worried about their little girls' broken hearts. But my boy, not at all. He is too smart to be owned by a single girl."

I'm impressed with him lately. In past years he would work himself to death, leaving almost no time to spend with his family. But now, it's as if he wants to make up for all the things he's wanted to say, words that resonated with regret.

I needed to ask him a lot of questions, especially those that would be difficult to answer. Unanswered questions about my mother. "Is it my turn for questions?"

"Shoot me," He grins, ready to answer whatever I throw his way. This was the moment I was waiting for, to ask about my mother's death. My father appeared to be more open and approachable than he has been in the past couple of weeks.

"Why was Mom's funeral done with a closed casket?"

He sighs, his expression turning serious.

"I think it's time for you to know the truth," he said, carrying sadness in the tone of his voice.

I turn off the screen of my phone, wanting to give my full attention to what my father had to say. I'm surprised by his willingness to answer my question so quickly. It's been weeks since he was inclined to talk about Mom, and I was ready to finally hear the truth.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

"The funeral was held with a closed casket because of the conditions she was found," he paused for a moment, returning to the silence I hated the most.

"Please continue," I said, my voice filled with desperation. "You still haven't said anything about it."

His grip on the steering wheel tightens; the expression on his face depicts regret.

"Tobias, this is not easy for me to answer. Please, give me a moment."

I instinctively withdraw, realizing that my question might have caused him a lot of pain. It was clear that he was reliving the moment he had to identify her, a task I find difficult to do. I returned to stare at the overgrown foliage on the road, hoping, he might want to finish answering my question.

"Your mother was attacked while jogging in the Harshall Trails," He paused. "She was mauled by a wild animal."

Now I understand. His words engulfed my heart, as a heavy silence settled between us.

"I know, I worked a lot. I know that I have chosen to make money rather than spend time with my family. But I did what I needed to do, to keep a roof over our heads."

His words resonated with me; I lived through his absence my entire childhood. My father had always been focused on the antique store he and my mother ran, often leaving little time for anything else. But now, in this vulnerable moment, I saw something in him I hadn't seen in years—his raw emotion, the guilt of a husband who couldn't protect the woman he loved, and the weight of a father carrying the burden of it all.

"I'm sorry, Dad," I said, noticing tears welling in his eyes.

"Don't worry, it's not your fault."

I returned to my watchful venture, gazing out at the passing trees as I gave my father a moment to calm down. In the rear-view mirror, I catch a glimpse of my reflection and notice a strand of white hair emerging from the roots.

"That white hair is showing up again."

Without a word, he reached over and gently brushed his hand over my forehead, pulling my hair back to examine it more closely.

"I see. But I don't think is necessary for you to continue with your medication. Where we're going, you won't need it."

His comment unsettled me. I had been reliant on that medicine since childhood, to balance the melanin my body couldn't naturally produce. It had kept the black color in my hair. Without it, I knew my hair would turn completely white in no time.

The trip felt longer than expected, perhaps due to the slow, deliberate pace my father maintained. As we continued heading north, I began to notice something odd—the growing number of abandoned cars along the roadside. It was an unusual sight, one that raised more questions than answers. Something wasn't right, but I couldn't put my finger on it yet.

"Why are there so many abandoned cars here?" I asked.

"I am not sure. It's been a while since I have come this way."

My dad eases off the accelerator as we near an old metal bridge. We pulled over to the side of the road, both of us captivated by the sight of the gorge below.

"Is that a bascule bridge?" I asked, baffled by the scenery. "This town is nestled in the middle of the mountains, why would they need a bridge like that?"

"Beats me," my father said, staring at the bridge.

We got off the truck and stepped closer to the edge, peering into the gorge's depths. A dense fog blankets the chasm, obscuring any view of the bottom. The atmosphere feels eerie as if secrets were hidden within the mist. The hairs on my arms stood on end as a chill crawled on my skin. My father and I shared a look of uncertainty then silently turned and got back in the truck to continue our journey toward Adams Town.

After crossing the bridge, my father's attention shifted to a worn sign on the side of the road. "Look, we're here. It says: Welcome to Adams Town. The house isn't too far now. I promise you'll love it."

Curious about the town, I grabbed my father's phone to check the map. Adams Town was nestled in a sprawling mountainous region, with two major highways intersecting and dividing the town into four distinct sections. The more I studied it, the more questions I had about this place hidden away in the middle of nowhere.

"Hey, I still need that," my father said.

"Don't worry, I'll let you know when you have to turn."

But as we got caught up in conversation, we missed an important right turn. His phone buzzed with a navigation alert. "Your destination is on the right," the automated voice said as the GPS recalculated directions.

"Stop here." A smile grew across my face, knowing, it was my fault he missed the turn.

"You said, you were going to tell me when to turn."

"I just did." I placed the phone back on the holder, trying to avoid confusing him while he drove, though I couldn't help but grin.

He stopped the truck to look at the address on the phone, double-checking it. Then, he turned around, driving back a few feet.

"Yes, this is the right address, but... this doesn't look right."

I glanced at the eerie scene before us, the overgrown vegetation seemed to swallow the gravel road, a scene plastered in real life from a horror movie.

"It looks abandoned," My father sighed, then glanced at me with a smile. "Well. It might not be the most welcoming sight, but let's give it a chance. This is our new home now."

I stared at my dad in disbelief. "You bought a house without seeing it in person?"

He shrugged, brushing off my concern. "I've done my fair share of research and asked all the right questions. Trust me, it will be just fine."

I sighed, realizing that arguing wouldn't change anything. As we continued down the overgrown path, we passed statues—old and weathered, almost hidden by the creeping vines. One depicted a man holding a short bow, while the other was a woman elegantly dressed. Both seemed long forgotten, swallowed by time and nature.

"I bet you it's a murder house. Someone died here, and you got suckered into buying it. And what's up with the creepy statues?"

My dad laughs, amused by my comment. "Relax, Toby, it's just an old estate. There's nothing you should worry about. Besides, ghosts don't exist."

"Easy for you to say," I reply skeptically. "If things start to get too creepy, I want you to promise me, we will move back home."

He nodded in agreement. "Deal. But let's give it a chance. Who knows, maybe this old house has charm hidden beneath its spooky exterior."