“Tonight, You Will Finally Be Mine,” My 74-Year-Old Grandfather Said, Gripping Me Tightly Around the Waist. I Was Only 22 Years Old. That Evening, He Took Me to His House, Locked the Front Door, and Whispered, “Don’t Tell Anyone… Especially Your Mother.” At 3 A.M., While I Was Lying in Bed, My Grandfather Quietly Opened My Bedroom Door, Approached Me, and Placed His Trembling Hand on My Leg. “I Have to Do It Tonight,” He Whispered. I Was Completely Paralyzed with Fear…

“Something that has waited twenty-two years for you.”

Before I could ask another question, Grandpa pointed toward the guest bedroom.

“You’ll sleep here tonight.”

He stood in the doorway for several seconds, staring at me.

Then he whispered:

“Whatever happens, don’t call your mother until morning.”

I locked my bedroom door.

At least, I thought I had.

Around midnight, I heard footsteps in the hallway.

At 1:15 a.m., someone stopped outside my bedroom.

The doorknob moved.

I held my breath.

A few seconds later, the footsteps disappeared.

I couldn’t sleep.

At 2:40 a.m., I heard Grandpa speaking on the telephone.

His voice was unusually tense.

“Everything is ready,” he said.

A pause.

“Yes, she’s here.”

Another pause.

“No. She doesn’t know yet.”

Then came the sentence that made my blood run cold.

“After tonight, there’s no turning back.”

I sat upright.

Who was he talking to?