Chapter 7 - The Basement
The video’s background was unmistakable. The exposed copper piping. The water stain shaped like a crescent moon on the cinderblock.
It was the basement of Marcus’s childhood home.
He drove at eighty miles an hour, tires screaming around tight corners. Sarah sat in the passenger seat, clutching her knees to her chest.
They sprinted up the cracked driveway. The front door was already wide open.
As they descended the basement stairs, the smell hit Marcus like a physical blow. Stale ash. Burned plastic.
His head throbbed. A massive, hallucinatory spike of pain drove him to his knees on the wooden steps.
He saw a flash of his childhood bathroom. Eleanor standing over him. Forcing him to swallow those exact same unmarked blue vitamins every morning.
"Marcus, get up!" Sarah screamed, pulling his arm.
He blinked the pain away and kicked the basement door open.
Chloe was sitting in the chair. But she wasn't crying. There were no ropes. She was completely untied, swinging her legs.
She looked at Marcus. Her lips curled into a slow, sinister smile.
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"You shouldn't have come down here, Daddy," she whispered. "You walked right into his trap."
