Chapter 5 - Returning to the House
The house on Elm Street looked entirely different in the daylight without Richard's heavy, oppressive presence hanging over it. The front lawn was overgrown, the porch light flickered weakly, and the front door felt less like a fortress gate and more like a simple wooden barrier.
Officer Vance and her partner, Officer Hayes, stood by the front porch while my mother and I unlocked the door and stepped inside.
The air inside smelled stale, untouched, like a museum exhibit of a life we used to live.
"Go pack what you need, Maya. I'll help your mom in the master bedroom," Officer Vance said kindly, stationing herself in the hallway.
I walked down the narrow hallway toward my bedroom. Everything was just as I had left it before going in for surgery: my desk piled high with design sketches, my old textbooks stacked neatly by the shelf, and my father's framed photograph sitting on the nightstand.
I picked up the photograph, tracing the glass with my thumb. "We're going to be okay, Dad," I whispered to the empty room. "I promise."
As I pulled my duffel bag from the closet and began tossing in clothes, a metallic clatter echoed from the hallway closet near the front entrance.
I paused, listening.
"Officer Vance?" I called out, stepping out of my bedroom.
There was no immediate answer.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I crept cautiously down the hallway toward the living room. The front door was still propped open, but the hallway was quiet—unnervingly quiet.
Rounding the corner, I stopped dead in my tracks.
The door to the basement—a heavy, deadbolted oak door that Richard had kept locked with a heavy padlock for the past six months—was standing wide open.
A steep, dimly lit wooden staircase descended into darkness below.
Mom emerged from the master bedroom carrying a box of clothes, freezing when she saw the open basement door. Her face drained of all colors.
"Richard... Richard always said he lost the key to that basement," she whispered, her voice trembling. "He said it was just filled with old junk from the previous owners."
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Officer Vance walked up behind us, her hand resting on her service belt. She pulled a heavy-duty tactical flashlight from her utility pouch, clicking it on with a sharp click . A brilliant beam of white light cuts through the gloom of the stairwell, illuminating dust motes dancing in the damp air.
"Stay here," Officer Vance contained quietly, descending the steps one by one with practiced caution.
