Sacrificing My Soul for Atonement

Black satin hung from every corner of the Hough's old mansion. I stood at the entrance of the funeral home, my feet heavy as lead, unable to move an inch. This should have been the place to honor my adoptive parents, but now it had been transformed into a chilling vision of Hell. Ghostly green flames danced within the skull-shaped candlesticks, casting shifting shadows across the funeral character on the wall. Shirley Hough wore a blood-red dress as she emerged from the depths of the funeral home, a chilling smile twisting her lips. She brandished a voice recorder mockingly in front of me. "Tina, listen closely. This is the last voice our parents left me." Before I could react, muffled voices spilled from the recorder. The voices were distorted and indecipherable, but Shirley pointed at me and shouted fiercely at the arriving Hough family members. "It's her! It's Tina who forced our parents into the no man's land! Our parents resisted, but she threatened them!" I was stunned, my mouth opening to protest, only to have two servants seize my shoulders. "It's not me! I didn't do it!" I struggled desperately, but my voice was drowned out by Shirley's sobbing. "Look, she still dares to deny it!" Shirley snatched my hand and pressed my fingertips onto a cold iron tong. "Since you refuse to confess, let me show you what it feels like to lie." Before I could scream, a sharp, piercing pain shot through my fingertips. My nails were brutally torn off, blood dripping through the gaps in my fingers onto the white cloth of the funeral home. "Still won't tell the truth?" There wasn't a trace of warmth in Shirley's eyes. She waved her hand, and the servant dragged me over to a bed covered in iron nails. "Roll over. But I'll let you go if you tell the truth." I stared at those sharp iron nails, trembling all over. But how could I admit to something I never did? Disregarding my struggle, the servant suddenly shoved me onto the bed. The iron nails pierced through my clothes and into my skin; with every movement, it felt like countless knives were slicing through my flesh. Tears streamed down my face from the pain, but I gritted my teeth, refusing to utter a sound. "Shirley, spilling blood where spirits rest is an omen of evil!" I shouted with all my strength. But Shirley laughed even more gleefully, pulling a small knife from her pocket as she crouched beside me. "Omen of evil? So just show me." She seized my wrist and without a moment's hesitation, slashed down fiercely. Blood sprayed out instantly, splattering across the nearby candleholder. At that moment, all the lights in the funeral home suddenly went out. The ghostly green candle flames flickered and died, darkness engulfing us like a rising tide. A strange sound of wind whispered in my ears, mixed with intermittent crying, impossible to tell where it came from. I could sense something was drawing closer.