My new stepmom is... strange

I don't know what to do, and I have no one else to turn to. I'm not sure if anyone will believe me, but I have to try because... because I think my father might be in danger. What’s worse, his 21-year-old daughter might be next. My dad and I have been living alone for almost four years now. He and my mom divorced when I was 16, but she had been estranged from us since even before that. As a result, my relationship with her is almost non-existent. I don’t know anything about her life or if she still even thinks about us. She never fought for custody of me during the divorce, and it’s safe to say that she never cared much for me, anyway. After all, why would a mother abandon her child? When I was younger, I blamed myself for her departure. But as I grew older, I realized that it wasn’t my fault. She just didn’t want to be a mother anymore. Perhaps that’s why I never became bitter about it. I never harbored any resentment towards her and didn’t dwell on it too much. After all, I had my father. He may not have been perfect (especially in the early days after the divorce), but he always did the best he could to provide for me. It was a long and arduous journey for both of us, but we eventually found our footing. We learned to live together as two adults, and I grew to respect him more than I ever thought I could. Then he met her. She came into his life almost out of nowhere. I don’t know the specifics of how they met or their history together, but I do know that she became a part of our lives a year ago. She started as my father’s girlfriend and then his fiancée. Now, she’s his wife. I thought my father was rushing into things, and I was right. I made my feelings known to him, but he didn’t want to listen. He seemed infatuated with her to the point of obsession. When he did decide to talk to me, he only tried to reassure me, and when that didn’t work, he got mad at me. My father and I started fighting more often. He wasn’t the man I once knew, and I blamed her for that. I know it sounds terrible, but I have never liked my stepmother at all. She’s never tried to make friends with me or include me in anything. Along with my father’s distant attitude, I felt even more isolated. One day, however, she approached me. It happened unexpectedly. I was studying in my room when I heard her enter. She didn’t knock on the door, and she didn’t wait for my permission to come in. She just opened the door and stood there with her hands clasped together. I didn’t say anything because I was taken aback by her sudden interest in me. “I’m going out shopping with your father. Why don’t you join us?” she asked. I was amazed. I had never heard her speak so kindly before. And to me of all people! But I wasn’t buying it. My intuition told me to be wary of her and not to take her words at face value. “Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin your time alone with dad,” I said. “We’d be happy to have you join us,” she replied. “After all, you’re family, aren’t you?” “Okay,” I said. The three of us went out to dinner that night. To my surprise, it was actually quite enjoyable. I could finally see why my father fell in love with her. She was kind, gentle, and considerate. But then strange things started to happen. When I told my father about it the next day, he only laughed it off and said that I was overreacting. I believed him at first, but then I began to notice that something was very wrong. I live in a two-story house, and my bedroom is at the end of a long corridor on the second floor. Most nights, I would wake up around 3 A.M. to the sound of footsteps outside my room. It’s as if someone is walking back and forth in front of my door for hours on end. It’s usually accompanied by incessant knocking on the walls, the occasional opening of the door, and the faint sound of whispering. At first, I thought those footsteps were my father, walking back and forth while waiting for someone, but it goes on for hours. There’s no way he would do that. When I decided to check on him one night, I found him fast asleep in his bedroom. It’s funny, but the only time thatstops is when my stepmother is out of the house, and that doesn’t happen very often. One night, while I was studying, I heard a faint scratching sound coming from the walls. It started on the left side of my room and eventually worked its way to the right. It sounded like someone had scurried into the walls and was crawling through them. When I looked out my window, I could have sworn that I saw someone peeking out from the roof above me. But when I went up there, I found no one. My stepmother often makes... strange noises. Sometimes, her breathing sounds like hissing. Other times, it resembles panting. When she talks to me, she seems to be fighting the urge to scream. Her eyes move erratically, and her pupils look like vertical slits. I once watched her finish almost half a glass of red wine in one gulp. It was strange enough to get my attention, but then she started to drool. The drool fell to the floor as she used her napkin to clean her lips. She was so fixated on her meal that she didn’t even know I was there. She was too busy eating. My father and I have never been religious. However, I recently found a bunch of crucifixes inside and outside the house. He claimed they were from my stepmother, and he seemed... uneasy about them. One night, while I was wandering around the house, I discovered a secret room hidden behind a small door. The room was filled with various strange and terrifying objects and talismans. They were strange items I had never seen before, strange items I couldn’t identify, and some that I couldn’t even bear to look at. I grabbed the only thing I could carry and fled. I didn’t stop running until I was back in my room with the door locked. It was a small book bound in black leather, and when I opened it, I found that all its pages were blank except for the last one. Written in red ink was my name, my parents’ names, and what looked like a strange symbol. I didn’t know what it was, but it sent chills down my spine. Why did it have my name on it? Why did it have my family’s names on it? That night, I couldn’t sleep because of the book. I tossed and turned, trying to make sense of everything, but I couldn’t. And then, as I was drifting off to sleep, I heard it. The strange noises. Shuffling footsteps, creaking doors, knocking on the walls, and the whispering. It was like they were calling my name. My father used to check on me when I couldn’t sleep as a kid. Why wasn’t he doing it now? Why did he never do it anymore? I was alone and scared out of my wits. So I called the police. They never came. Why did they never come? I know I called them because I remember those words vividly. 911, dial the numbers, explain my situation to the operator. Why did they never come? But then... then my stepmother did. I don’t know how she got into my room so quietly without waking me up. But when I opened my eyes, I saw her standing in front of me with a sinister, almost... bloodthirsty smile on her face. She demonstrated a speed I’d never seen before as she stormed towards me like a wild animal. I didn’t know how to react, so I just froze. But then... then I heard my father’s voice. “Are you okay? What happened?” I knew he was only protecting her, but it didn’t matter. As long as he was there, she wouldn’t hurt me. She backed off, feigning concern, and together they forced me to go back to bed and go back to sleep. I didn’t sleep at all that night. I couldn’t, not with all that had happened. But when I woke up the next morning, I felt a strange craving. An unbearable, intense craving for blood. I had never tasted blood in my life, and it didn’t even cross my mind to do so. So, I didn’t understand where this craving came from. It seemed to come out of nowhere, and it was driving me crazy. My body ached, I was starving, and I couldn’t think of anything else. I didn’t know what to do anymore, so I went to the only person who I knew would listen to me. My father’s brother. We met up at a coffee shop in town, and I explained everything to him. I told him all about my stepmother and the strange things she had been doing for the past few weeks. I told him about how my father had become a different person after meeting her and how he was in denial about the whole thing. I told him everything, and I left nothing out. When I was finished, he sat in silence for a while. Then, he spoke. “I think I know what your problem is,” he said. “Your stepmother isn’t human. That’s what your problem is.” I was speechless. “What do

My new stepmom is... strange

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