The Shared Shadow in Our Blood

For as long as I could remember, a chill would follow me in empty rooms. I saw movements in the corners of my eyes and felt a pressure on my chest at night. I thought I was breaking.

When I told my mother, she said I had too much imagination and was upsetting my brother. I learned to be quiet. But the feelings did not go away.

After I went to live with my father, the cold spots returned. One evening, my stepmother looked at me over dinner and said, ‘You feel it too, don’t you?’ I was not alone anymore.

We started asking our relatives, carefully. To my surprise, my father’s cousin spoke of similar feelings. Even an aunt from my mother’s side confessed to knowing the same dread. It was not a sickness, but a thread woven through our family.

It is a heavy thing to carry, but it is a weight we now share.