Chapter 2 - The Sister at the Door
Marcus climbed the stairs and pulled the basement door shut behind him.
Emma heard the lock turn.
She remained on the floor, breathing through another contraction while voices gathered above her.
“Where is she?” Rachel asked.
“I told you. She went to Aunt Carol’s.”
“You told your mother she was staying with me.”
A chair scraped.
Marcus lowered his voice, but the heating vent carried every word. “She changed her mind. You know how she’s been lately.”
Emma closed her eyes.
That phrase had followed her for months.
Lately, Emma worried too much about money.
Lately, Emma misunderstood harmless comments.
Lately, Emma was difficult because pregnancy had brought back old anxiety.
Seven years earlier, after a car accident, she had become dependent on prescription painkillers. She had entered treatment voluntarily, stayed sober, and rebuilt her life long before meeting Marcus. Only Rachel, their mother, and Emma’s doctors knew the full history.
Marcus had once called her recovery the bravest thing she had ever done.
Now he used it whenever he needed someone to doubt her.
Emma dragged herself closer to the loose panel. Her swollen fingers slipped against the blood-smeared edge.
Upstairs, Rachel said, “Her car is in the garage.”
“She wasn’t comfortable driving.”
“Then who took her?”
“Rachel, this isn’t the time.”
“What happened to her face yesterday?”
The kitchen went quiet enough for Emma to hear the refrigerator motor.
Marcus answered carefully. “She fell getting out of the shower.”
Emma finally lifted the panel.
The prepaid phone lay beneath it, wrapped inside a plastic freezer bag. She had hidden it there three weeks earlier after Marcus locked her in the basement for the first time.
That night, the cage door had still opened from the inside.
He had called it a misunderstanding after she threatened to tell Rachel. He said he only needed her to calm down because she had been packing a suitcase and talking about taking the baby.
Emma had wanted to believe the humiliation would frighten him into changing.
Instead, he had bought welding rods.
The phone showed three missed calls from Rachel and one message.
I’m outside. Give me any sign.
Emma typed with both thumbs.
BASEMENT. CAGE. DON’T CONFRONT HIM ALONE.
Before she could send it, a shadow crossed the narrow strip of light beneath the basement door.
The lock turned again.
Emma pushed the phone under her thigh.
Marcus descended with a serving knife in his hand.
It was not pointed at her. He held it loosely, as if he had forgotten he was carrying it from the kitchen.
That frightened her more.
“Rachel’s asking questions,” he said. “So now you’re going to answer one for me.”
May you like
He reached through the bars and grabbed her ankle.
“What exactly did you tell your sister?”
