Seven months pregnant, I agreed to house-sit for my brother Victor and his wife Anne while they went on vacation. One afternoon, while exploring their basement, I found three trash bags that clearly didn’t belong there. Inside, to my horror, were voodoo dolls bearing my face, stained with dark substances, alongside ritual items meant to curse me and my unborn baby. Fear flooded through me as Anne’s urgent warning echoed in my mind: “Don’t touch those bags—get out now!”
Panicked and trembling, I fled through the woods behind their mansion, clutching my swollen belly and gasping for breath. My husband Paul rushed to pick me up, furious and terrified by the betrayal Anne had shown. When Victor and Anne returned, I confronted them at a nearby café. Anne shockingly confessed her jealousy of my pregnancy and success, admitting she had been trying to curse me out of spite and envy.
The revelation shattered our family bonds. Victor immediately filed for divorce, unable to forgive Anne’s betrayal. I struggled with overwhelming fear and paranoia, but Paul stayed steadfast, supporting me through every doctor’s appointment. Despite the trauma, our baby girl grew stronger every day—a bright symbol of hope amid the darkness.
Now, as I prepare for motherhood, I warn others to be cautious—even family can hide dark secrets. Sometimes, terror comes from those closest to us. But we will be okay. Every kick from our daughter reminds me that love and life always find a way to prevail.