Chapter 2 - THE PUNISHMENT ROOM
Lily woke shortly after midnight.
Her first word was not “Mom.”
It was “sorry.”
Sarah sat beside the hospital bed.
She had spent five hours imagining the moment her daughter would open her eyes.
She thought she would cry.
She thought she would smile.
She thought Lily might ask what happened.
Instead, Lily whispered, “I’m sorry, Mommy.”
Sarah bent over her.
“No. No, sweetheart. You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
Lily’s left eye opened more easily than her right.
“Grandma said you’d be mad.”
Sarah’s hand froze around Lily’s.
“Grandma said that?”
Lily nodded slightly.
“Don’t move your head, baby.”
“I didn’t mean to touch it.”
“Touch what?”
Lily’s mouth trembled.
“The box.”
Sarah felt Daniel shift behind her.
He had refused to leave the hospital.
Neither had Sarah.
“What box?”
Lily looked toward the door.
“Is Grandpa here?”
“No.”
“Grandma?”
“No.”
Lily relaxed slightly.
Sarah had never seen her child afraid of Patricia before.
At least, she had never recognized it.
“What box did you touch?”
“The red one.”
“Where?”
Lily closed her eyes.
“Secret room.”
Daniel whispered, “Jesus.”
Sarah looked at him sharply.
Lily’s fingers tightened around hers.
“Uncle Danny said I shouldn’t go upstairs alone.”
“You talked to Uncle Danny about this?”
Lily nodded.
“When?”
“After Grandma made me stand.”
Sarah felt sick.
“Stand where?”
“In the room.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why did she make you stand?”
Lily swallowed.
“Because I spilled juice.”
Sarah forced herself to remain calm.
“What happened tonight?”
Lily began crying.
The monitor beside the bed accelerated.
Sarah stroked her hair.
“You don’t have to tell me right now.”
“Grandma said I was sneaky.”
“Why?”
“I woke up.”
Sarah stopped.
“You were sleeping before it happened?”
Lily nodded.
“I was tired. Grandma said I could sleep in your old room. Then I woke up and Grandpa was opening the wall.”
Daniel and Sarah exchanged a look.
“The wall?” Sarah asked.
“He pushed the bookcase.”
Sarah remembered the upstairs guest room.
A built-in bookshelf covered one wall.
It had been there her entire childhood.
“What happened after that?”
“I saw the red box.”
“What was inside?”
“I don’t know. Grandma came in.”
“And then?”
Lily’s voice became smaller.
“She said bad girls don’t spy.”
Sarah’s eyes filled.
“Did Grandma hurt you?”
Lily turned her face away.
That was enough.
Sarah stood.
Daniel followed her into the corridor.
The moment the door closed, Sarah turned on him.
“You knew something was happening.”
“I suspected.”
“You knew Lily was afraid of them.”
“I heard her say something three weeks ago.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I tried.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I called you.”
“You called me about Dad’s retirement dinner.”
“Because Mom was standing beside me.”
Sarah stared at him.
Daniel’s voice dropped.
“I thought Lily was describing the same room we used to be taken into.”
Sarah went still.
“I don’t remember a room.”
“I do.”
Sarah shook her head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“You don’t remember a lot of things.”
Sarah pushed him against the wall.
“Don’t do that.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“You’re telling me my parents abused us in a secret room and somehow I forgot?”
Daniel’s jaw tightened.
“I’m telling you I remember being six years old and standing barefoot on cold tile for hours while Dad asked me questions.”
“What questions?”
“Whether I loved him.”
Sarah stared.
Daniel continued.
“If I answered too slowly, Mom poured ice water over my head.”
Sarah stepped back.
“You never told me.”
“I thought it was normal.”
“Normal?”
“We grew up there, Sarah.”
His voice cracked.
“I thought every family had rules nobody talked about.”
Sarah looked down at the photograph still folded inside her coat pocket.
Lesson 3.
Successful.
“Why did they photograph me?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who took the picture?”
“I don’t know.”
“What’s the red box?”
“I don’t know.”
She glared at him.
“Then what do you know?”
Daniel reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
“I found this in the cabinet.”
It was a list.
Dates.
Names.
Numbers.
Sarah recognized some of the names.
Her own.
Daniel’s.
Two cousins.
A neighbor’s child from years ago.
And near the bottom:
LILY COLLINS
Beside Lily’s name were three dates.
The first was six months earlier.
The second was three weeks earlier.
The third was that day.
Beside the final date, someone had written:
Exposure threshold.
Family response evaluation.
Sarah read it twice.
Then a third time.
“What does that mean?”
Daniel shook his head.
Sarah looked down the list again.
A name near the top stopped her.
Emily Collins.
Sarah’s older sister.
The sister who had died at age eleven.
The family had always said Emily drowned during a summer camp accident.
Beside Emily’s name were twelve dates.
The last one had a black circle around it.
Sarah whispered, “Daniel.”
“I saw it.”
Emily’s final entry contained only three words.
TRANSFER NOT COMPLETED.
Sarah looked up.
“What transfer?”
Daniel’s face was pale.
“I think we’ve been asking the wrong question for twenty-two years.”
“What question?”
“We always asked how Emily died.”
May you like
His eyes dropped to the paper.
“I think we need to ask whether she died at all.”
