Lisey Sweet Pure - Taboo

She pressed her ear to the wood. The tapping stopped. Then a voice—low, honey-smooth, patient—said, “You’re awake.”

Upstairs, the porcelain figurines wept tiny, silent tears. lisey sweet pure taboo

Her face burned. She had never told anyone about the dreams—the ones where warm fingers traced her collarbone and a voice like velvet promised her the world. She had woken from those dreams feeling guilty and electric, pressing her thighs together in the dark. She pressed her ear to the wood

But one August night, with rain hammering the roof and the house groaning like an old animal, she heard the sound. A soft, rhythmic tap-tap-tapping coming from behind the basement door. “You’re awake.” Upstairs

Her heart stuttered. No one knew that but her mother, and her mother had been gone three years.