JESSICA
As the night descended, the shadows grew long and dark, casting an eerie glow over everything as the streets were adorned with streetlamps, save for the distant hum of crickets and the occasional barking of dogs. I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease as I drove my car towards my aunt's Wedding Anniversary Party, while the memory of my mother's recent conversation with that psychiatrist still lingered in my mind.
I sighed to calm myself, the air around me seemed to shift and ripple like a heat mirage on a summer day. The tension in my shoulders eased ever so slightly as I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting the cool night air wash over me. When I opened my eyes again, everything looked different - the neon lights of the city seemed brighter, the sounds of traffic more distant, and the stars above twinkled like diamonds scattered across the velvet blackness of the sky. It was then that I knew something was off, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was.
I shrugged on my mask, feeling the familiar weight of the leather against my skin, and stepped out of the car into the night. As I walked towards the entrance of the venue, the air around me began to change once again.
As I stepped into the grand ballroom, I couldn't help but gasp in amazement. The room was transformed into a winter wonderland theme, with glittering snowflakes suspended from the ceiling and delicate icicles adorning every available surface. The chandeliers were made of crystal and shone like diamonds, casting a magical glow over everything. Tables were set with fine linens and adorned with stunning floral arrangements that seemed to dance in the flickering candlelight. The guests were dressed to impress, their sparkling gowns and tuxedos adding to the festive atmosphere. 
Suddenly I felt a presence behind me. I turned to see a waiter approaching with a round tray full of drinks. But just as he was about to pass by me, I reached out and grabbed a glass of margarita from his tray. The waiter nodded his head in understanding before continuing on his way, weaving through the crowded place.
As I scanned the crowded room, my eyes struggled to pick out any familiar faces beneath the masks that everyone wore. The air was thick with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses, but despite the lively atmosphere, I felt a pang of loneliness.
I took a sip of my drink and began to wander the room, just as I was starting to feel like I wouldn't make it through the night, I spotted a group of people huddled in the corner, laughing and chatting animatedly. But it was the woman standing at the center of the room that caught my attention. She wore a gown of silk and satin, its intricate patterns shimmering in the light. Her hair cascaded down her back like a river of gold, and her piercing blue eyes seemed to shine brightly. 
I walked closer, hoping to get her attention, and to my delight, she caught sight of me and smiled. She beckoned me over with a wave of her hand, and before I knew it, she was enveloping me in a warm embrace.
"Oh honey, I'm so glad you made it!" she exclaimed, holding me at arm's length to take in my appearance. "You look stunning tonight."
We pulled back from the hug, and I grinned mischievously. "You know I can't miss this party, Aunty," I teased, using the affectionate term that only she and I shared. We both laughed, and she patted my cheek fondly.
"Of course not, my dear," she replied. "Now come along, let me show you around and introduce you to some people."
With her arm through mine, we set off into the crowded room, 
"Look at you, you've grown a lot, and you got prettier too, but still I missed your pink highlights," she said, complimenting me as she checked my hair with her delicate hand.
Aunty and I sat on the table, sipping vodka and chatting about everything. It had been too long since we last saw each other, and it felt like no time had passed at all as we laughed and reminisced about old times.
As we talked, Aunty's eyes began to wander off into the distance, lost in thought. I followed her gaze and my heart skipped a beat when I saw a familiar figure walking towards us. It was a man in a black suit and a black mask, with a young woman in a pink glittery dress and a silver mask by his side. My mind raced as I tried to place where I had seen them before.
"Aunty, do you know who that is?" I asked, nudging her gently.
"Oh no, not here!" Aunty said as she stood up in quick motion and approached the man in hurried footsteps. I couldn't help but decide to follow my aunty but when I got close to them my aunty stopped me with a stopped sign without looking at me.
"Let's talk in private, you dimwit!" my auntie snapped at the man, her voice low and sharp as she grasped his wrist and pulled him away from the crowded room. My eyes followed where they were going, watching as they rounded the corner and out of sight.
I felt a pang of confusion and concern for the young woman who had been standing next to the man just moments before. She had vanished without a trace, leaving behind only a faint scent of perfume and the lingering sense of unease that seemed to follow wherever my auntie went.
I sighed and decided to follow her in that direction. Every step I took felt like a betrayal as if I was walking into a trap. But I pushed forward, driven by some unseen force.
As I reached the end of the hallway, I heard murmurs and arguments coming from one specific room. I stopped dead in my tracks and listened intently. The voices were low and hushed, but I could make out the words.
I crept closer to the door, trying not to make a sound. I peeked through the keyhole and was surprised by what I saw. 
"How could you bring that girl in here Drew?! Aren't you ashamed that you're having an affair with your Daughter's friend?! The audacity Drew!" My Aunty's revelation shocked me and made me freeze in my tracks.
"C'mon Olivia, no one even recognized Sophie! And if Jess is here? She won't be able to recognize her too!" My Dad said then a hard slap landed on his cheek. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My father had been having an affair with Sophie, my best friend. It felt like a punch to the gut, a betrayal of the deepest kind. I couldn't understand how she could do this to me, how she could lie to me and deceive me for so long.
But then, a memory flashed through my mind, and everything became clear. I remembered the nights my father had stayed out late, the excuses he had made for not being able to attend family events, the way he had always seemed distant and hard to reach. It all made sense now - he had been with Sophie all along.
"No one recognizes her? Well, Drew, I did! I recognized her from the moment you guys arrived!" my aunt yelled, her voice echoing through the empty house. I stood frozen in place, unable to move or speak. The pain of betrayal was like a knife twisting in my gut, making it hard for me to breathe. My aunt's words were like a slap in the face, a constant reminder of everything I had lost. I could feel my eyes welling up with tears as I struggled to keep my composure.
I couldn't help it anymore, the pain was too much. Slowly, I began to walk away from the door, trying to put distance between myself and the memories that lingered there. My heart raced and my mind swirled with thoughts of what could have been.
As I made my way out back to my car, I felt a sense of numbness washing over me. It was as if I was living in a dream, a never-ending nightmare that I couldn't wake up from. The world around me was moving in slow motion, and I felt like I was trapped in a perpetual state of grief.
...
As I drove down the winding roads, my tears streaming down my face, I couldn't help but feel a sense of overwhelming sadness. The revelation I had just witnessed had left me reeling, unable to process the weight of it all. My mind raced with questions and emotions, each one battling for dominance in my head.
Why did this have to happen? Why now? Why him? These thoughts swirled around in my head like a never-ending vortex, pulling me deeper into despair with each passing mile.
I knew I needed time alone to sort through these feelings, to try and make some sense of the chaos that had consumed my life. But even as I drove further away from the scene of the revelation, I could still hear the sound of Aunt Olivia's voice ringing in my ear.
She had called me a hundred times, desperate to talk to me, to offer her support and comfort. But I knew if I picked up the phone, it would only lead to more pain. More questions. More lies. And I just couldn't do it. Not right now.
So I kept driving, the wind whipping through my hair as I let the tears fall freely.
As I pulled into my driveway, I couldn't help but notice the flashing lights of an ambulance parked outside my house. My heart raced as I quickly jumped out of the car and rushed towards the commotion. That's when I saw it - my mother, being dragged out of the house by two burly paramedics, her arms and legs flailing wildly as she struggled against their grip. She was dressed in a straitjacket, her face contorted with insanity.
My brows furrowed in confusion as I struggled to comprehend what was happening. I approached one of the nurses but instead, a familiar man blocked my way.
"Good evening, Miss Cross," the man said, his voice smooth and confident as he extended his hand towards me. "My name is Jameson, and I am your mother's psychiatrist. It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person, miss."
I stared at him blankly, my mind reeling from the revelation. My mother had a psychiatrist. And now this stranger was standing here, introducing himself to me as if we were old friends? It all seemed so surreal, like a dream that I couldn't wake up from.
"You're what? Hold on, what is going on?! And why is my mother dressed like that!?" I yelled not because I was mad, but because I was worried and confused. My mind raced as I tried to process the information that had just been dropped on me like a bombshell.
"Let's calm down first, Miss Cross, just breathe," he ordered and I followed him without hesitation as I struggled to breathe. After inhaling and exhaling for a minute, I managed to calm myself up.
"Will you please tell me now what is going on here?" I calmly asked the man named Jameson. 
He sighed before speaking, his voice filled with concern and sympathy. "Miss Cross, I don't know how you'll take this news, but your mother has not been mentally stable for a long time now." His words hung in the air like a cloud, casting a dark shadow over the room. My heart raced as I struggled to process what he was saying.
"What do you mean?" I managed to stammer out, trying to keep my composure despite the fear and sadness that threatened to consume me.
"Your mother...she lost it tonight," he continued, his voice softening even further. "I'm so sorry, Miss Cross."
My eyes welled up with tears and before I could stop them, they began to fall on my cheeks. Soon, I was sobbing uncontrollably, my body shaking with grief and shock. The world around me blurred together as I tried to make sense of the news.
...
I went inside the house, and as I stood in front of the window, watching the ambulance drive away into the darkness, I couldn't help but feel a sense of dread. My mom was inside that ambulance, strapped down in a straightjacket and being taken God knows where. The nurse who had called me earlier had told me that they needed to take her to a special facility, one that dealt with patients who required more...extreme measures.
I tried to push the thoughts out of my mind as I watched the ambulance disappear around the corner.
As I stood there, propped against the windowsill, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease wash over me. The house was deathly silent, and it seemed to reverberate through every fiber of my being. It was as if the very air itself had grown still, holding its breath in anticipation of some unknown event.
I leaned my back against the cool glass of the window frame, feeling the chill of the panes seeping into my skin. Outside, the world beyond the glass was bathed in a soft, golden light that seemed almost otherworldly. But inside, everything was dark and still.
I scanned the room, taking in the familiar sights and sounds of my home. But even the usual creaks and groans of the old wooden floorboards seemed muted as if they too were holding their breath. It was as if the entire house was waiting for something, and I felt like I was the only one who didn't know what it was.
I shivered, despite the warmth of the evening. Something about the silence unnerved me and made me feel vulnerable and exposed. As if anything could happen at any moment, and no one would hear a thing.
SCOTT
As the evening descended upon the town, the sky grew darker and the rain continued to fall in sheets, casting a somber mood over everything. Despite the gloomy weather, I felt a sense of determination as I drove towards my late father's house. It had been years since I left that house, but the wounds of my childhood still lingered, festering like open sores. My conversations with Heather had awakened something within me, and I knew that I needed to confront my past if I wanted to truly move forward.
I pulled into the driveway and brought my car to a stop in front of the house, hesitating for a moment before opening the door. The weight of my decision hung heavy on my shoulders, and I knew that stepping out of this vehicle would set off a chain reaction of emotions that I wasn't yet prepared to deal with. My children were still angry with me for missing their grandfather's funeral, and I couldn't blame them - I had let them down in the worst possible way.
As I sat there, lost in thought, I caught sight of my wife emerging from the front door with an umbrella in her hand. She glanced up and our eyes met, and for a brief moment, we simply stared at each other without speaking. Then, she offered me a soft and sympathetic smile, one that seemed to say "I understand" without needing any words. It was a small gesture, but it felt like a warm embrace, and it gave me the strength to step out of the car and face whatever lay ahead.
I immediately got out of the car and sought refuge in my wife's umbrella. I put my arms around her shoulder as we both ran towards the front door, laughing at how absurdly silly we must have looked - two grown adults, huddled under a tiny piece of fabric, trying desperately to stay dry. But at that moment, it didn't matter. All that mattered was finding shelter from the tempest raging outside. We stumbled through the front door, dripping wet and bedraggled, but grinning like fools.
"Dad?" The familiar voice of my son Miles called my name as soon as I stepped through the front door. I turned to face him, and there he was standing on the staircase, his boyfriend by his side. My heart swelled with love and pride as I saw the two of them together. As soon as he saw me, Miles ran down the stairs, throwing himself into my arms which surprised me.
I was stunned, unable to speak. It had been years since my youngest son, Miles, had shown any affection towards me. But there he was, wrapping his arms around me tightly, holding on for dear life. My oldest son, Jackson, followed suit, pulling me into a warm embrace.
"What took you so long?" Miles mumbled into my shoulder, his voice filled with emotion.
I couldn't believe what was happening. My sons, who had always been so distant and uninterested in physical displays of love, were now hugging me like they meant it.
I glanced over at my wife and saw something that made my heart skip a beat. She was looking back at me, but it wasn't just any ordinary look - there were tears in her eyes, and a soft smile on her lips. I felt my own eyes well up with tears as I realized how much this moment meant to both of us. We had been through so much together, and yet here we were, still holding onto each other tightly after all these years. 
Without saying a word, she walked over, joining into a hug like a warm blanket. Our embrace was long and tender, filled with all the love and gratitude that we had built up over the years.
...
As I sat on the couch in front of the fireplace to warm myself, I felt a presence joining me from my seat. I glanced at my son, Miles and we both smiled at each other.
"Are you cold too, son?" I asked but Miles just shook his head as a response.
"I came here to give you this, Dad," he said handing me my father's diary. My brows furrowed in confusion.
"Where did you get this?" I asked out of curiosity.
"I found it in his study room, and I've read everything in it," He said, his eyes gleaming with mischief, and with that, he offered his fist to me for our long-lost signature peace bump.
I couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of this old tradition, one that we had shared back then when he was still just a little boy.
As our fists gently touched each other's, I felt a rush of nostalgia wash over me. It was like no time had passed at all
"Good night Dad," Miles said
"Goodnight, son," I replied then just like that he got up from his seat and went back to his room.
I sat there, surrounded by memories of my father, staring at the old leather-bound diary in front of me. Our relationship had always been strained, to say the least, but I never expected what I found within its pages. As I delved deeper into the diary, I discovered a history of pain and bitterness that left me reeling. My father's words poured out onto the page, raw and unfiltered, revealing the deep hurt and regret that he had carried with him throughout our lives.
Each entry cut me like a knife, bringing back memories that I had long tried to forget. The way he would yell at me for small mistakes, the disappointment etched on his face whenever I failed to meet his expectations. It all came flooding back, and I felt myself drowning in a sea of guilt and shame.
But as I turned the final page, something unexpected caught my eye. A message, scrawled in his shaky handwriting, brought tears to my eyes. "My dear child," it read, "if you're reading this, it means I'm gone. As I lie here, surrounded by the machines that beep and whir as they keep me alive, I can't help but think of all the things I wish I had done differently. All the times I didn't say what needed to be said, all the moments I didn't show my love and appreciation for those around me.
But most of all, I regret not being able to tell you how sorry I am. My dear child, I have made so many mistakes in my life, and I know that I have hurt you in ways that cannot be undone. I want you to know that I never intended to cause you pain and that I have always loved you more than anything in this world.
I remember the day you were born like it was yesterday. Your mother held you in her arms, and she looked at me with such hope and joy in her eyes. And I knew, in that moment, that I would do everything in my power to provide for you and protect you. But I failed. So many times, I failed.
I was never there when you needed me, too busy chasing my dreams and desires. I missed your milestones, your triumphs, and your heartaches. And now, as I lay here, I realize that none of it matters. What matters is the time we did have together and the memories we created.
So, my dear child, I want to apologize for all the wrongs I have committed against you. For every tear I caused, for every disappointment I brought into your life. I want you to know that I love you and that I will carry you with me always. Even though I won't be here much longer, I know that you will go on to do great things and make me proud.
Please forgive me, my child. Forgive me for not being the father you deserved. Forgive me for not being there when you needed me. Forgive me for all the pain I have caused you. And know that I will love you forever.
Sincerely, Father"
A wave of grief washed over me, crushing me beneath its weight. My heart ached with sadness, knowing that my father was no longer here to apologize in person. But as I read those final words, something shifted inside of me. The anger and resentment that had built up over the years began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of understanding and compassion.
My father may have made mistakes, but he was still my parent, and he loved me in his flawed way. As I closed the diary for the last time, I knew that I needed to let go of the past and embrace the memory of my father, warts and all. His apology, though late, was a gift, and one that I would treasure forever.