When you said,

Family isn't blood,

It's who you choose to let in,

I was in the back seat of your car

When you had never been the one to pick me up.

Tears streaked down my face,

And I had just asked why the devil and I couldn't get along.

I hadn't called you,

I had called my Angel,

But there you were.

She must have heard the panic in my voice,

and called you in her own panic.

You dropped everything to pick me up,

even though it was before your waking hours.

I should have known you loved me then,

For a man so unyeilding to upend everything.

But there was always that doubt,

That poison that stops me from saying those words even now.

So when I saw you for the last time

And you also said the words "I love you,"

I should have let you in.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The fatherclocks pendulum swung loudly as the children lay in bed. The eldest daughter waited. The clock chimed three. Then the ticking stopped. It all stopped.

Then, a breathe later, the banging began. A thumping against her closet door. She tried to raise her covers over her head. To drown out the noise. Then the screams began. It woke the other children.

They sounded like her screams. Begging for help. Pleading. The eldest daughter's heart raced as the eerie sounds filled the room. She clutched her blanket tightly, paralyzed with fear. Her mind raced. More hauntingly familiar.