A thrill buzzes through me, a dangerous kind of hope. As the reporters erupt, voices clashing in an uproar of questions, I leap off the bench, unable to contain this surge of energy.
Trust.
It’s as new for me as it is for London.
I step out of the RV, her voice lingering behind me. It calls to me, but I know it’s only a matter of time until we’re together.
We’re inevitable.
The dilapidated house sits on an acre of dead land. Corn husks scatter the front yard. Cracked paint peels from the siding. A broken bay window offers a glimpse into the rot within—mold, ruin, time.
The bones are here. The foundation. But everything that once thrived has faded.
London’s childhood home.
I enter, the front door nearly falling off the rusted hinges. The floorboards creak beneath my boots. This was her beginning. Where her memories start.
And I’m here for her cage.
A padlocked door bars entry to the cellar. It’s the only door in the house that remains intact, as if she’s returned over the years just to make sure no one could get inside. I wonder how many times she’s visited this place, its truths haunting her, fearing its discovery.
That fear no longer holds her captive.
I pick the lock easily enough, then pocket it, removing any evidence of her knowledge and involvement. The dank scent ofearth and rust clings to the air, the sight of the bars ratchets my pulse—a cage born of nightmares.
It’s beautiful. All wrought iron and ornate edges and cruel teeth.
I spend time here, feeling her presence. Making sure there is nothing here to tie her to her father’s crimes. Then I leave behind a clue only she can piece together before I return to the RV.
The authorities will be here soon. Digging and excavating. Unearthing the victims and London’s dark secrets.
Now that she’s free, I can be patient. I’m willing to be any and all that she needs. I’ve left her clues, pieces of my puzzle. My story will unravel the truth for her.
She’ll find me.
No, ours is not a love story. Ours comes with a warning.
And it’s not over yet.
Of course, no one heeds warnings. If ours began with abeware, my story begins with a threat:
Do not enter.
I was spawned in hell itself.
