He moves slowly, and I follow, dust and cobwebs clouding my vision. Before long, Chase stops. I peek over his shoulder and see a solid metal door.
A loud creak reverberates through the cramped corridor as he opens the door, and then a burst of humid, foul-smelling air hits me like a wall.
“Fuck,” Chase mutters, shining the flashlight inside.
I feel his body tense before he turns to me.
“Ryan,” he grinds out, gripping my arm. “I think you should go back.”
He’s protecting me from something. And as much as I want to let him, there’s a pull, a morbid curiosity mixed with dread, that has me shaking my head. “No. I want to see.”
Behind me, Connor says, “What is it, dude?”
Chase remains focused on me. “Are you sure?”
I gulp, already knowing that whatever’s beyond that door, it’s something I’ll never be able to forget. That frightens me, but I tell myself it’s better than not knowing, better than all these years I’ve spent wondering.
“Let’s go,” I say firmly.
We step inside the room, and I have to cover my mouth to keep from inhaling the stench—it’s old and moldy and thick. The first things I see are the giant birdcages. Larger versions of the ones I saw him making all those years ago.
In each one, there is a skeleton.
All of them are nothing but bones. Some are wearing jewelry. Their hair is long and scraggly, their eye sockets gaping. The fingers of some are still wrapped around the bars.
They were trapped down here, my father’s sick collection. His pretty sparrows.
As I bear witness to the grotesque display, I suddenly remember what he said to me when I was seven, watching him construct one of his mini cages.
“Oh, little sparrow. Why shouldn’t these pretty creatures have a place to stay?”
“But, Daddy, with the cages, they can’t come and go. They’re trapped.”
“That’s because some birds are so pretty, theyhaveto belong to someone. Otherwise, everyone would want them. They’d be in danger.”
My father thought these women were too pretty, too precious, so they had to belong to someone.
Him.
In his twisted mind, he thought he was protecting them.
Instead, he killed them.
I stare in revulsion, taking in all the cages suspended from the ceiling by hooks. One, two, three…Oh my God, there are so many. They languished here. Maybe he fed them, took care of them, his own little sparrows. But eventually…
“Jesus,” Connor moans. “Jesus, holy shit.”
I bring a hand to my mouth as I walk from one cage to another. I don’t know how to feel. A tiny part of me always held out hope that maybe it was some big misunderstanding, maybe he was innocent, protecting someone else. But this glaring proof snuffs out all hope.
My father truly was a monster.
We all jerk in alarm when a gasp sounds from the door.
“What thefuck,” Jasmine cries out, her wild gaze darting around the small, musty space.
A stricken Everett stands beside her. He’s rooted in place, not budging from the doorway, while Jasmine stumbles toward us.
“Look,” Chase says roughly. “The cages all have plaques on the bottom.”
