Poisoned Prophecy

My mother, Evelyn, was born deaf-mute, burdened by an ancient prophecy: she would speak three times, and disaster would follow each utterance.

I, Sarah, grew up under this constant, quiet dread.

The first words came when I was a teenager, a rough whisper to my father, David: "Don't go, David."

Hours later, he plunged from our high-rise balcony, an "accident" that shattered our lives.

But I saw the grainy security footage: Mom stood in the doorway, simply watching him fall, her face a chilling, unreadable mask.