You look at the Wi-Fi icon and it’s dead too, as if the house had been deliberately disconnected from the world.
Lily’s eyes dart towards the hallway.
—Mom—she whispers—, I heard something.
And then you hear it too.
A dull thud.
It doesn’t come from outside.
It comes from within. Deeper than the walls, like a step that tries to be careful.
Your stomach drops to your feet.
Derek didn’t just lock them up.
He locked someone up with you.
You take Lily’s hand and lead her toward the pantry because it’s the closest space with a solid door and frame.
You don’t call it “hiding.” You call it “a silent game,” because your daughter’s fear is already too much for her body to contain.
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