I Found 3 Trash Bags in My Brother and SIL’s Basement – What Was Inside Shocked Me…
Seven months pregnant, I had agreed to house-sit for my brother and his wife while they vacationed. One afternoon, I stumbled upon three mysterious trash bags in their basement. What I found inside made me flee for my life, and the terror still haunts me.
“Run faster, Celina!” The voice in my head screamed as I stumbled through the thick woods behind my brother’s mansion. Gasping for breath, I clutched my swollen belly with one hand and pushed away the branches clawing at my face with the other. Seven months pregnant and terrified, I was running for my life.
I had to reach the bus stop. How could I have been so blind? So trusting? I glanced down at my trembling hands, sticky with drying blood. Wiping them on my dress, I whispered, “We’re safe, baby. Someone will help us get home.”
It had all started two weeks earlier…
I was lounging on the couch, scrolling through my phone, when my brother, Victor, called.
“Hey, Celina! How’s my favorite sister?” he said in his usual booming voice. “I’ve got a huge favor to ask. Anne and I are heading out of town for a wedding and a little vacation. Could you house-sit for us?”
Before I could answer, Anne’s voice chimed in, overly sweet. “Oh, Celina, you’ll love staying here! The house practically takes care of itself.”
Her tone surprised me. Things had been tense between Anne and me ever since Paul’s business had taken off, improving our finances, while Victor’s ventures had failed. The distance grew even more when I announced my pregnancy. Unlike the rest of the family, who were thrilled, Anne barely acknowledged the news. She even skipped our gender reveal, claiming she was “too busy.” It stung, knowing she and Victor had been struggling to conceive for years. My easy pregnancy seemed to be a sore reminder of what she couldn’t have.
But now, she was asking me to house-sit? Was this an olive branch?
Despite my doubts, I hoped this could mend things between us. “Sure, I’d be happy to,” I replied. “When do you need me?”
The next morning, Paul dropped me off at their mansion. Victor greeted me warmly, giving me a hug, while Anne air-kissed my cheek, barely making eye contact. After they left, the house felt huge and unnervingly quiet. As I wandered from room to room, I felt strangely out of place. By nightfall, the eerie silence began to get to me, the taxidermy on the walls seemingly watching me. But I convinced myself I was overthinking.
Three days passed without incident. On the fourth day, while checking the furnace in the basement, I noticed three large trash bags tucked in a corner. “Weird,” I muttered, snapping a photo and texting it to Anne with a playful message: “Forget something? Don’t worry, I’ll take out the trash for you 😉.”
Seconds later, my phone buzzed with an immediate reply: “DON’T TOUCH THEM! GET OUT OF THE BASEMENT. NOW.”
Before I could even process the message, Anne called.
“Anne? What’s going on?” I asked, my heart racing.
“Celina, get out of the basement. Now. Do not look in those bags!”
Her frantic tone sent chills through me. “Why? What’s in them?”
“Just go upstairs and forget you saw them. Please.”
But something inside me couldn’t walk away. Against my better judgment, I knelt down and untied the nearest bag. The moment I peeked inside, my world flipped upside down.
Bones. Feathers. Decaying animal remains. And worst of all—dozens of crude voodoo dolls, each one with a photo of my face, stained with something dark and rotten.
“Oh my God,” I gasped, stumbling back in horror.
With shaking hands, I called Paul. “Paul,” I choked out, “you need to come get me. Now.”
“What happened?” he asked, his voice tense with panic.
“Voodoo dolls… with my face… I think Anne’s trying to curse me. Or worse, our baby.”
“Jesus, Celina,” Paul muttered. “Get out of the house. Run to the bus stop. I’m on my way.”
I didn’t hesitate. Grabbing my purse, I bolted out of the front door and into the woods. My belly slowed me down, but fear kept me running. Branches scratched at my skin, but I pushed on until I reached the road and collapsed onto the bus stop bench.
Minutes later, Paul’s car screeched to a halt. He rushed out and wrapped me in his arms. “Are you okay? The baby?”
“I’m fine,” I whispered, trembling. “But I don’t know how we didn’t see this coming.”
Back at home, I told Paul everything—about the bags, the dolls, and Anne’s bizarre behavior. It was clear now—this wasn’t just jealousy. It was something far more sinister.
In the days that followed, Anne tried reaching out, but I ignored her. When Victor and Anne returned, we agreed to meet in a neutral café. The confrontation was explosive. Victor, horrified, demanded answers.
“I was jealous,” Anne admitted, her voice shaky. “Celina got everything I wanted. I couldn’t stand it anymore.”
Victor recoiled in disbelief. “You tried to curse my sister? You need serious help, Anne.”
After that, the family fell apart. Victor filed for divorce, and the once-close bond between us shattered. Though Paul and I moved forward, the memory of what I found in that basement lingers. Even now, as I cradle my newborn daughter, I can’t help but wonder what might have happened if I hadn’t discovered Anne’s dark secret in time.
If I’ve learned one thing, it’s this: never assume those closest to you have your best interests at heart.