Murder House
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Murder House

This story contains themes of: assault, cheating, child abuse, offscreen rape, sexual assault abuse, violent death, explicit imagery, domestic violence

All Rights Reserved ©

Summary

Perfect for late-night binging — short, sharp, and unforgettable. -Review.com Some houses hold memories. This one remembers murder. Damien was never a good man—a violent husband, a cruel father. His home was a prison. And after one final explosive night, he storms out into darkness, leaving his family in ruins. But he doesn't stay gone. When he returns, it’s not for forgiveness. It’s for revenge. Trapped inside the house are the only ones who ever feared him—and now, they’ll face a nightmare that no one in town will ever forget. As screams echo through the walls and blood paints the floor, one question lingers: Is death a punishment… or a release?

Status
Complete
Chapters
22
Rating
n/a
Age Rating
18+

Chapter 1

“Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm.”

– Publilius Syrus

3:14 AM- Blood soaked the carpet. The child’s scream echoed through the house, but the silence that followed was far worse. By the time anyone came, it was already too late. But what led to that blood-soaked carpet began much earlier...

The story you are about to hear is not for the faint of heart. To believe it, one must be willing to open their mind to the harsh realities of family life, the complexities of human relationships, and the devastating consequences of unchecked anger.


In the year 1993, there was a family that seemed, at first glance, to have it all. The Blackwoods—Damien, Trinity, and their three children—lived in a quiet town nestled amidst rolling hills and old stores. Their home, a modest house with a sprawling garden and a weathered porch swing, was often filled with the sound of laughter. On the outside, they appeared to be the perfect family. Yet behind closed doors, things were far from ideal.

Damien, the father, was a man of contradictions. To the world, he was a charming and hard-working man, a successful businessman with a reputation for generosity and kindness. But to his family, he was a storm waiting to break. His alcoholism, his infidelity, and his simmering rage—all were secrets buried beneath the surface, known only to his wife, Trinity, and his children. The twins—Mark, and Matthew—were just seven years old, innocent to the world’s cruelties but not to the tension that lingered in the air. They saw more than they were meant to, and the cracks in their family were impossible to ignore.


The evening that would change their lives began like any other. It was a cold, stormy night when the Blackwood family returned from the hospital, where Mark had been treated for a broken ankle. The injury had happened when he, in his usual reckless spirit, tried to leap from the front steps. The rain lashed against the windows, each drop a tiny hammer pounding against the glass. The wind howled like a wounded beast, rattling the old house to its core. The smell of damp earth and ozone filled the air, a pungent reminder of the storm’s fury.


The living room, with its faded floral wallpaper and worn-out furniture, felt suffocatingly small under the weight of the storm. The air hung heavy with the scent of stale cigarettes and cheap perfume, a constant reminder of Damien’s presence. Damien slumped onto the sofa, his body radiating a palpable tension. The worn leather creaked beneath his weight, and his fingers tapped a frantic rhythm on the armrest. His eyes, dark and shadowed, held a flicker of something primal, something that sent a shiver down Mark’s spine.

“Why did you do that, Mark?” Damien’s voice was a low growl, laced with barely contained rage. “You know I hate recklessness. You know it could have been worse.” His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken accusations, a reminder of the unspoken rules that governed their lives.


Mark, however, seemed unaffected by the scolding. He had grown used to the angry outbursts. “Because I wanted to,” he replied flatly, his tone distant. His words were cold, as if he were already retreating into a place of numbness. Damien’s face flushed with anger. “Because you wanted to? I don’t care if you wanted to! You must face the consequences of your actions!”


The words were sharp, biting. He rose from the sofa, his fists clenching at his sides. The anger was building, swirling in his chest. His shadow stretched across the worn carpet, a dark stain against the pale light filtering through the rain-streaked windows. His eyes, cold and calculating, seemed to pierce through Mark, leaving a chill in his bones.


Mark, unflinching, met his father’s gaze. “You’re the one who’s the problem,” he snapped. “You’re the worst father I’ve ever had.”


Silence filled the room, thick and suffocating. For a moment, no one moved. You know what, Mark?” Damien said, his voice suddenly soft. “Maybe you’re right.” And then, without warning, Damien’s hand flew across Mark’s face, the slap echoing through the room like a crack of thunder.

The sting of the slap hung in the air as Mark recoiled, his eyes wide with shock, but there was no apology from Damien. Instead, Damien stood there, breathing heavily, his gaze cold and unforgiving.

“Never talk back to me again, boy,” he hissed. “You’re nothing but a worthless piece of shit. You think you can talk back to me?” Damien snarled, the belt sliding from his hand like a serpent. “You think you know pain, boy? I’ll show it to you…”


“Damien, stop it!” Trinity’s voice cut through the tension. She stood in the doorway, her face pale, her eyes wide with fear. Damien flinched, but the anger in his eyes only deepened. He turned to Mark, his expression suddenly soft, as if trying to mask the rage that still simmered beneath the surface.


“I’m sorry, Mark,” he said, his voice dripping with something that wasn’t remorse—something darker. He turned to leave, a forced smile on his lips. “I’m sorry you’re such a worthless piece of shit that can’t even appreciate what we gave you.” With that, he walked toward the door, not looking back. Trinity followed, her voice rising in desperation.

“Damien, where are you going?” Damien didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stood near the car, staring into the rain-soaked night. “I’m just leaving,” he muttered. His tone was distant, as if he had already checked out of the conversation. Trinity stepped closer, her eyes pleading. “Please, Damien. I’ll make Mark apologize. Just… Please don’t leave.”


He turned to face her, his eyes darkening. “No. He doesn’t deserve to see me right now.” With that, Damien opened the car door, started the engine, and drove off into the night, the headlights cutting through the storm. Trinity stood there, helpless, watching him disappear into the rain.


The storm raged on, mirroring the turmoil brewing within the Blackwood family. The house felt heavy with unspoken words, the air thick with a sense of impending doom. Mathew, watching his mother stand there, a solitary figure silhouetted against the storm-ravaged sky, felt a cold dread creep into his heart. He knew, with a certainty that chilled him to the bone, that this was just the beginning. This was the night that would forever change their lives.

Let Dragan R.R. Ellis know what you thought about this chapter!

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