I wrap my arms around myself and glance up at the night sky. They’ve been gone for two hours now and the unsettling feeling hasn’t eased up in the least.

  “Mom?”

  I startle and whip my head around to find Richter standing in the doorway, watching me with tired, curious eyes.

  “Go back inside, sweetheart,” I instruct him tiredly. “Your father will be angry if he gets home and you’re not in bed.”

  Richter walks the few steps toward where I’ve set up camp, then he sits on the steps next to me and shrugs.

  “I’m not scared.”

  I smile slightly as I glance at him. He looks so much like his father, that it’s a wonder that being this close to him doesn’t set my teeth on edge. Especially in moments like this, when I don’t know what Dad is up to, and when I don’t know what’s going to happen to my youngest.

  But unlike Dad, Richter is a good person. I’ve never seen him yell at his sisters, and he’s the first to kiss their scraped knees and helps them hold the baseball bat when it’s their turn to swing.

  He’ll end this fucking lineage of terror if I can’t. It will take time, and he’ll have to go through hell before he does, but he’s strong enough to do it.

  Of that I have no doubt.

  Richter scuffs his foot on the lower step as he makes himself comfortable. I know there’s no way I’ll be able to convince him to go back inside, and to be honest, I’m actually enjoying the company.

  I reach over and ruffle his hair before I turn my eyes back to the long driveway that eventually disappears so far out of sight and spills onto the road. I wonder where Cleo is, if she’s afraid, hurt, or if he’s actually caring for her like the father that he sometimes is.

  “Were you scared?” Richter asks suddenly.

  “Hm?” I reply curiously.

  “When you were down in the well.”

  “No,” I say. And it’s the truth, I wasn’t afraid. I was angry that he sent Cleo down into that hell with me, but it gave me the chance to keep her away from his ire.

  “Were you afraid, honey? When I was down there?” I press gently.

  He shrugs as he chews the inside of his mouth thoughtfully, careful to avoid my eyes. If he’s ever been afraid of anything, I’d never know because of how brave a facade he always puts on.

  My brave little man.

  “Your father just sent me down there to clean it up some. I forgot about the ladder after I was done, and I think he assumed I was already in the house when he brought it back up. It’s not a big deal,” I lie skillfully. Richter turns his eyes toward me, narrow and full of suspicion, but when he lets out a sigh, I know that he believes me.

  Wait.

  “Honey, go inside and get the flashlight. It should be in one of the kitchen drawers, okay?”

  He gets to his feet without so much as a question and does as he told like the good son that he is. A few moments later, when he returns, I get to my feet and hold my hand out. When Richter attempts to hand me the flashlight, I smile and shake my head, and wait for his hand in its place.

  He takes mine reluctantly. Because he’s such a big boy now, he doesn’t think that holding his mom’s hand is a cool thing to do, but I’m lending him my strength right now since I know he’s going to need it shortly.

  Richter doesn’t question me when I turn on the flashlight and lead him around the side of the property. He doesn’t even seem bothered when we end up at the oubliette. And when I pull the gate open and toss the rope inside, he’s still the brave boy that I’ve admired for so long.

  “I need you to do something for me,” I tell him softly as I toss the ladder inside of the well.

  “Near the bottom, there’s a space between the bricks. I felt something in there, but I didn’t have time to get it out. Would you …”

  My son reaches for the rope without hesitation and climbs in, slowly make his way down into the darkness. I hold the ladder on my end as tightly as I can while still shining the light down on him. I don’t know how far down it will reach, but the longer I can see him, the better I know I’ll feel.

  But when the light finally fades and I have no sight of my son, my hands begin to tremble. I can feel myself becoming afraid and wanting to crawl down into the hole after him. Until he calls up to me and assures me that he’s okay.

  “I’m at the bottom, Mom!” he calls up to me.

  I let out a huge sigh of relief. So much so that I almost end up dropping the flashlight into the well. There’s no way I’d be able to explain to Dad how that got down there, or think of a good enough excuse as to why it’s broken without him figuring me out, so I set it down on the side of the well, use the weight of my body to pin the ladder to the side of the well and call back down to Richter.

  “It should be above your head! It felt like paper!”

  I know that’s not the best description of what I’m looking for. Especially not with all of the dried leaves at the bottom—hell, even the shit we slept on felt like paper, but I know it had to be whatever was left over from what Jocelyn spent her last days on.

  He falls silent, the only sound echoing back toward me is the shifting of his feet and his grunts as he tries to find what I sent him down for.

  “I think I got it!” he calls up excitedly after a few minutes.

  “Come on up!” I instruct him nervously. Leaning to the side, I grab the flashlight again and shine it down into the darkness. Agonizing seconds pass before I finally see the top of his head as he climbs up as quickly as he can. When he finally clears the top, I drop the flashlight onto the grass again and yank him over, hugging him tightly.

  “Thank you, sweetheart. You’re so brave,” I whisper, kissing the top of his head.

  “Aw, Mom,” he groans, shifting uncomfortably in my arms. I laugh and let him go. He picks up the rope ladder and starts to gather it back into a neat pile the way Dad always has it before he reaches over and pulls the wooden gate closed.

  I put an arm around Richter’s shoulders as we walk quickly back toward the house. When we reach the front steps of the house, he holds the dirty, yellowed folded paper out to me, then runs inside with the flashlight.

  Taking up my watch again, I slip the dusty paper into my bra and turn my attention back to the driveway.

  Come on, Dad, I pray silently. Bring my baby back home.

  Chapter 15

  The next morning, I’m woken up by the nudge of a boot. I wake up with a gasp and rub my eyes, quickly realizing that I fell asleep on the front step and that Dad was home now.

  I look up at him and smile in embarrassment. He doesn’t look happy, but he doesn’t exactly look angry either—it’s more of a curious confusion.

  “Did you sleep out here last night?” he inquires as he rubs his chin.

  “Yeah,” I reply honestly. There’s no point in trying to come up with a lie. Dad has always been able to tell when any of us are lying, so I gave up that ghost a long time ago.

  “Why?” he prods.

  “I was waiting for Cleo,” I say softly.

  He chuckles and shakes his head as turns around to glance at the driveway. “Well, I hate to break it to you, Darbs, but that kid isn’t our problem anymore.”

  “What?”

  I didn’t mean to shout at him. It was what he said that jolted me so wide awake and full of anger, that I couldn’t help myself.

  “Don’t raise your voice to me, little girl,” he warns in an even tone. “Grab the other two and bring the groceries in. If I decide to tell you what happened to her, then I will.”

  I get to my feet, my hands balled at my sides. I want to hit him. I want to grab him by his shoulders and shake the answers out of him, but I won’t. Not while I still have two children under this roof to protect—not when I have a daughter missing and he has the answers.

  Dad waits for me to get up and walk in first. It’s the gentleman that’s locked somewhere inside of him rearing its head. I know better, though. He knows that I’m a high-strung mess now and I’d more than likely attempt to make a break for it, run into town, and see if I can find my darling Cleo.

  “Richter! Skylar!” he booms through the house. “Get your lazy asses up and help your mother with the groceries!”

  The kids’ bedroom door opens almost immediately and I watch them rush out, hair wild, rubbing the sleep out of their eyes, as they do as their father commands.

  I wait for them to run outside before I walk into the bedroom I share with my father and close the door firmly behind us.

  My fear of what’s happened to Cleo has turned into the anger of wanting to know where she is.

  “Where’s my daughter?” I ask him evenly, turning and sliding the lock into place.

  Dad lets out a laugh as he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls his boots off. He knows that the Darby that’s in the room with him now, is the same Darby who’s will he thought he finally managed to subdue.

  Instead of answering, he sucks his teeth and tosses his boots to the side, before walking around the side of the bed and laying down. Dad closes his eyes, rests an arm across his forehead, and ignores me.

  It’s his way of ending the conversation, but the mother inside of me isn’t going to give up so fucking easily.

  “Where’s Cleo?” I shout at him.

  He doesn’t move or even flinch. I watch his lips curl up into a smile, but that’s it. Other than that, this conversation is over, and he won’t give me the answers I want.

  “Fine,” I seethe quietly as I spin on my heel and walk out of the room. I slam the door so loudly behind me that the walls rattle.

  I make my way past Skylar and Richter who are walking into the house with bags in their arms. They exchange a glance when they see how angry I am, but I don’t stop. Not until I get to Dad’s truck. I walk around to the back, reach into the bed of the vehicle and fish around until I find something heavy enough for what I want to do.

  I settle on the crowbar and walk back toward the front, climb onto the hood, and wait. I know that he’ll come out to see what I’m getting myself into because, after all, I’m made from his same genetic make-up, and he knows that when it comes to getting what I want, I am definitely my father’s daughter.

  It doesn’t take long for Dad to show up on the steps. He’s got his hands on his hips, a dangerous gleam in his eyes, and our children on either side of him.

  “What are you gonna do with that, Darby? Besides piss me off,” he calls out to me.

  “Last fucking chance,” I warn him, “Where’s Cleo?”

  He licks his lips and cracks his neck. I can tell that he’s debating taking me down right now, but I’ll swing this crowbar and smash his windshield before he has a chance to reach me, and he knows it.

  “Don’t make me come get you down from there, girl,” he snaps, as he walks down the steps and begins to make his way toward me. I wait until he’s almost close enough to reach me then lift the heavy metal object high over my head and bring it down against the tempered glass with as much force as I can muster.

  A large spider crack immediately appears on the windshield, and Dad swears loudly, but I don’t care.

  Not anymore.

  “Unless you want me to bust every last window on this fucking truck, tell me where my daughter is!” I scream at him as I climb up onto the roof of the truck and scurry across toward the bed. It’ll be easy enough to dodge his attempts to grab me back here, and if he tries it, I’ll bust out the back window next.

  “You know, even your mother knew when to fucking say when, Darby,” he tells me through grit teeth. “She knew when to lay down and take her fucking lumps.”

  “And what did that get her? The rest of her life at the bottom of the fucking well!” I scream, raising the crowbar in a rage, and smashing it into the back windshield like a professional baseball player.

  “And you want to be just like your mother, don’t you?” he growls as he opens the door of the bed, and climbs in. I move as quickly as I can, pulling myself onto the roof of the truck and attempt to crawl back toward the hood, but his hand tightens around my ankle and he yanks me back toward him, dropping me roughly onto the ridged flooring. I try to kick him in a blind rage, but he easily slaps my leg away and then proceeds to wrestle the crowbar out of my grip.

  “Defiant fucking kids are the bane of my existence,” he mutters more to himself than me. “I’ll tell you what though, you’re not gonna forget this fucking punishment for the rest of your life.”

  What’s the worst he can do? Throw me back into the oubliette? He’s already ripped a third of my heart out by taking Cleo away from me—there’s nothing else he can do to break me.

  But when Dad hoists me over his shoulder and takes me into the house, I didn’t realize just how wrong I could possibly be.

  Chapter 16

  I’ve been locked in the bedroom for hours. Dad told me that if I wanted to live to see tomorrow, that I wouldn’t go near the windows or try to escape.

  I don’t know what he’s up to, but I’m honestly afraid now. And whatever happens will be my fault because unlike the entirety of the Greene family, I care too fucking much about everyone around me.

  I have to find a way to pass the time, to keep my mind off the many things that this man could be doing to extract his revenge on me over a few busted windows. That’s when I remember that I still have the paper hidden inside of my bra. I know that this will be the only chance I’ll have to satiate my curiosity, so I fish it out and open it, smoothing it out as best as I can.

  I read the first line, squinting at the shaky handwriting, then gasp as my hand flies to my mouth.

  It’s a letter from Jocelyn.

  To me.

  In her final moments, her last thoughts were of a daughter that she never knew. That, by the words she’s written in the now most precious thing I’ve ever held, were full of a mother’s love and hope.

  A love that she felt for me even though she never got to hold me.

  A hope that Dad wouldn’t do to me what he had done to her.

  And a request that I remember her.

  My heart breaks into a million pieces as I realize the woman that I held such hatred for, such disdain for not running away and saving herself, her brothers from this man that’s held us prisoner here for so long, loved me more deeply than I was lead to believe.

  Jocelyn loved me.

  She wanted more for me than this life that Dad chose for her, for all of us, and I hated her for not trying to escape, believing that to be the reason the rest of us were stuck here.

  But what if she did try? What if he caught her and that’s why she ended up in the oubliette? What if that’s the real reason he seems to be so much more different with me? Is it because he’s secretly afraid that I’m more her than him and he knows that I’ll try to grab our children and leave him all alone?

  How could I have not realized it before now, Dad? I’ve finally figured out what scares you, I think through bitter tears. You’re afraid to die alone and unloved.

  Somehow, I have to find a way to gain his forgiveness for what I did to his truck. I have to understand that whatever punishment comes my way because of my actions, is well-deserved and my own fault, and I have to be Daddy’s little girl.

  It’s the only way to get him to trust me again.

  The sun has fallen from the sky by the time Dad finally comes back to the room. I’ve taken Jocelyn’s note and hidden it under the dresser. I wonder if she ever thought I would get the chance to read it, but I know now that she did love me and I’ll find a way to make this right.

  It’s the least I can do for the one person I harbored so much resentment for now that I know the truth about how she felt.

  I won’t let you down, Mom.

  I’m sitting against the wall with my arms wrapped around my leg, watching Dad as he cracks his neck and lays down on the bed. I take him in, realizing that his hands look dirty, his boots seem a bit scuffed, and that the yawn he lets out is tired and unsettling.

  When will you finally die? I wonder bitterly. I take a deep breath and remind myself that this is not how to approach him. No way will I get back in his good graces if I can’t control my thoughts.

  “Daddy?” I ask from the floor.

  “Yeah?”

  “Can I lay in the bed with you?”

  He lets out his breath impatiently, clears his throat, and shifts slightly before propping himself up onto his elbows and glaring at me.

  “Well, I guess that depends, Darby.”

  “I’m sorry, Daddy,” I say, choking back a sob. “I just got so angry and I know that what I did was out of line, and I swear to you that it’ll never happen again. Please tell me that you forgive me.”

  I don’t wait for his response before I bury my face in my hands and burst into tears. I haven’t lied to my father in a very long time, and I know that now, I’ll have to become a master of deception to do what needs to be done and it hurts me.

  Not for myself, and not for my children, but for the man that honestly loves me the only way he’s ever known how.

  “Get your ass into this bed,” he says, his voice tired and a little less stern. I get to my feet quickly and walk over, kick off my shoes, and climb onto the bed next to him. Dad reaches over and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him and when I lay my head against his chest, he uses his free hand to wipe the tears away from my face.

  I look up at him through the haze of tears, and see it. The father that he could be, and not the man that he is. His eyes are tired, his face is slightly worn, and he seems to have aged a little more than since this morning. There are more grays in his neatly cropped mass of black hair, and he looks so close to defeated that I decide not to ask him anymore questions.

  “Go to sleep, Darbs,” he says, leaning down and kissing my forehead gently.

  I do as I’m told and close my eyes.

  I won’t ask about Cleo again tonight.

  I’ll take my punishment in the morning.

  And maybe the day after, I can get him to realize that there is a small part inside of me that does love him the way he loves me.

 

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