Chapter 2
The detective’s words seemed to drain every sound from the room.
“We know what happened in that shed.”
For one suspended second, nobody moved.
The monitors still shrieked beside Eli’s bed, nurses rushed forward, and my son’s tiny body trembled beneath the thin hospital blanket. His face was pale, almost translucent beneath the bruises, but his eyes stayed locked on my mother.
Not Rachel.
Not the detective.
My mother.
“Monster,” Eli whispered again.
My mother’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
For the first time in my life, Eleanor Brooks looked afraid.
Not angry. Not offended. Not calculating.
Afraid.
Rachel, on the other hand, broke immediately.
“No,” she sobbed, backing into the wall. “No, no, no, he wasn’t supposed to remember. He wasn’t supposed to wake up.”
The detective’s gaze sharpened.
My body went cold.
“What did you say?” I asked.
Rachel covered her mouth with both hands as if she could shove the words back inside.
My mother turned on her so fast it startled even the officer beside the door.
“Shut up,” she hissed.
It was the voice I remembered from childhood. The one that could slice through a room and make everyone obey.
But Rachel didn’t obey this time.
She stared at Eli like he was something impossible. Like he had crawled out of a grave.
“He saw it,” she whispered. “He saw everything.”
The detective stepped closer. “Rachel Brooks, I strongly suggest you stop talking until counsel is present.”
But my sister was unraveling too quickly to hear him.
“You don’t understand,” she cried. “He wasn’t alone in there.”
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I looked at Eli. His small fingers curled around the blanket.
“What does that mean?” I demanded. “Who was in the shed with him?”
Rachel started laughing then, but it wasn’t humor. It was panic wearing the skin of laughter.
My mother slapped her.
Hard.
The sound cracked across the room.
A nurse gasped. The officer moved instantly, grabbing my mother’s arm and pulling her back.
But Rachel only touched her cheek and smiled faintly through tears.
“You always do that,” she said. “Hit first. Explain later.”
My mother lunged again, but the officer held her tighter.
Detective Harris, a tall man with tired eyes and a neatly trimmed beard, turned toward the nurses.
“Get them out.”
“No,” I said.
Everyone looked at me.
My voice shook, but I stood between them and the door.
“No. I want to hear it. I want to know what they did to my son.”
Detective Harris studied me for a moment. His expression softened, but only slightly.
“Mrs. Brooks, this isn’t the place.”
“This is exactly the place,” I said. “Because whatever happened, he survived it.”
Eli stirred at the sound of my voice. His eyelids fluttered, and the terror in his face cracked something open inside me.
I moved to his side and took his hand, careful not to touch the IV.
“I’m here, baby,” I whispered. “Mommy’s here.”
His lips trembled.
“Don’t let Grandma take him,” he whispered.
My mother froze.
“Take who?” I asked.
Eli’s eyes rolled toward the corner of the room.
For the first time, I noticed he wasn’t pointing at my mother anymore.
He was pointing behind her.
At nothing.
A terrible silence spread.
Rachel began to whimper.
“Stop,” she said. “Please stop. Don’t let him say it.”
Detective Harris watched Eli carefully. “Eli, can you tell us who you mean?”
Eli’s breathing became shallow. His fingers tightened around mine.
“The boy in the floor.”
My vision blurred.
The boy in the floor.
For a moment, the room itself seemed to tilt.
“What boy?” I whispered.
Eli squeezed his eyes shut. “He was cold.”
My mother’s face turned the color of paper.
Rachel slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor, rocking slightly.
May you like
“I told you,” she whispered to my mother. “I told you it was happening again.”
Again.
