They say the house belongs to her now. The papers are signed. The keys are hers. But as Elise stands at the foot of the attic stairs, she feels no ownership. Only the weight of a promise she made long ago. One her uncle made her repeat out loud.
He had told her to stay away from the attic. Never, under any circumstance, was she to go inside. Not while he was alive. Not while she lived there. He never explained why. The door was always locked, and she never asked twice. Some things didn’t need answering back then.
But now the house is empty. Her name is on the will. The attic is still locked, but the key sits in her palm. She doesn’t know what she expects to find. Something. Nothing. Either way, it feels like crossing a line he drew in permanent ink.