The phrase echoed Jacob’s earlier comments almost perfectly.
The implication that I needed to clean myself immediately after arriving made my humiliation return all at once.
Before I had even been allowed to make an impression, Nancy appeared to have already judged me through Jacob’s version of events.
The welcoming house suddenly felt hostile.
The comfortable furniture and family photographs seemed to belong to a room silently examining me.
I excused myself and went to the guest bathroom, desperate for a moment alone.
Dinner continued with stiff politeness.
Everything felt rehearsed.
At some point, Jacob’s sister, Eloise, quietly invited me to step away from the table.
She had always seemed different from the others, carrying a subtle sense of independence and resistance.
Grateful for an excuse to escape the strained atmosphere, I followed her upstairs.
Her bedroom felt like a refuge.
Books, personal belongings, and soft lighting made it feel calmer and more genuine than the rest of the house.
Once the door closed, Eloise looked at me with concern.
“Sophie,” Eloise began, her voice steady yet filled with a hint of frustration, “what you experienced tonight isn’t about you or any real issue with hygiene. It’s about them.”
She gestured toward the dining room.
Then she explained.
Jacob and Nancy believed they possessed unusually powerful senses.
“They have this strange notion of possessing super senses,” she confided.
According to Eloise, they believed they could detect smells, flaws, and subtle details that ordinary people could not perceive.
They treated this belief as evidence of their superiority.
Over time, it had separated them from reason and made them increasingly convinced that their perceptions were always correct.
As Eloise described the family’s beliefs, I felt two emotions at once.
