Chapter 2: The Drawing on the Wall
Part 2 ⬇️
I moved Diane out of the way with one arm.
She grabbed my sleeve.
"Ryan, I'm warning you."
"You don't get to warn me anymore."
I snapped the lock open.
It wasn't even latched properly — like someone had closed it in a hurry.
The basement stairs were dark.
I reached for the light switch.
What I saw made me step back.
There was a small mattress on the floor.
A thin blanket.
A plastic cup on the bottom step.
And taped to the wall — a drawing.
A child's drawing.
Lily had written her own name at the top in crayon.
She had been down here enough times to decorate it.
I couldn't speak.
Behind me, Lily tugged my shirt.
"I wasn't scared, Daddy.
I had my picture."
I turned to face my mother.
Diane wasn't looking at the basement anymore.
She was looking at her phone.
Her hands were shaking.
"Who are you calling?"
She didn't answer.
"Mom.
Who are you calling right now?"
She looked up at me.
And for the first time in my life, I saw something in her eyes that wasn't guilt.
It was fear.
"You need to put Lily in her room," she said quietly.
"Before your wife gets here."
I went still.
"Sarah isn't supposed to be home until Sunday."
May you like
Diane said nothing.
And that silence told me everything I didn't want to know.
