Chapter 5 - The Room Beneath the Kitchen
Mark opened the door.
Diane stood in the hallway holding a silver dinner bell.
She smiled at Claire, then rang it once.
The sound echoed through the house.
“You missed breakfast,” Diane said. “That will not happen again.”
Claire stepped forward.
“I’m leaving.”
Diane’s gaze moved to Mark.
“Is she?”
Mark looked down.
Claire pushed past them both.
She ran to the front door.
The handle turned, but the door did not open.
A deadbolt had been installed near the top during the night.
It required a key.
Claire tried the side entrance.
Locked.
The kitchen door.
Locked.
Every window on the ground floor had been secured.
“You cannot imprison me,” Claire said.
Diane entered the foyer slowly.
“You are free to leave whenever your husband determines you are well enough.”
Claire turned to Mark.
“You told her I was unstable?”
He looked sick.
“She made me sign a statement.”
“No one makes you do anything.”
Diane rang the bell again.
A man appeared from the servants’ corridor.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, and dressed in gray work clothes.
Claire had seen him once before repairing a fence.
“This is Mr. Vale,” Diane said. “He will make sure you do not injure yourself.”
Claire backed toward the staircase.
Vale did not speak.
Diane handed him the key to the front door.
“Mark has business in the city,” she continued. “You and I will spend the day together.”
Claire looked at Mark.
“Don’t leave me here.”
He whispered, “I’ll be back before dinner.”
“Mark.”
He walked out.
Diane watched him go.
Then she turned to Claire.
“Now we can begin.”
For two hours, Diane forced Claire to sit at the dining table and copy a statement by hand.
I HAVE EXPERIENCED CONFUSION AND FALSE MEMORIES.
I HAVE ACCUSED MY FAMILY OF THINGS THAT DID NOT OCCUR.
I HAVE VOLUNTARILY AGREED TO REST AND RECEIVE CARE.
Claire tore up every page.
Diane calmly placed fresh paper in front of her.
At noon, Claire threw the pen across the room.
“I will never sign it.”
Diane looked at Vale.
He stepped forward.
Claire grabbed a chair and held it between them.
“Touch me and I’ll scream.”
Diane smiled.
“No one is near enough to hear.”
Claire swung the chair when Vale approached.
It struck his shoulder.
He barely reacted.
He caught the chair, pulled it away, and pinned Claire’s arms behind her.
Diane walked closer.
She held a small glass vial.
Claire struggled.
“What is that?”
“Something to help with your confusion.”
“No.”
Vale dragged her toward the kitchen.
Claire kicked at the floor, the cabinets, anything she could reach.
Diane opened a narrow door beside the pantry.
Behind it was a staircase descending into darkness.
The smell reached Claire first.
Damp stone.
Bleach.
Old metal.
The room beneath the kitchen contained a narrow bed, a sink, and leather restraints fixed to the wall.
Claire stopped fighting for one stunned second.
That was enough.
Vale forced her down the stairs.
Diane followed.
“You kept Elena here,” Claire said.
Diane’s expression sharpened.
“Elena was ungrateful.”
“Is she alive?”
Diane poured liquid from the vial onto a cloth.
“She was given every opportunity to become part of this family.”
Claire renewed her struggle.
Vale pinned her against the wall.
Diane raised the cloth.
Then a crash sounded upstairs.
Someone shouted.
Vale looked toward the staircase.
Diane froze.
A second crash followed.
Then Oliver’s voice thundered through the kitchen.
“Claire!”
Claire screamed his name.
Vale released one arm to reach for something inside his jacket.
Claire drove her elbow backward into his throat.
He stumbled.
She ran up the stairs.
Diane caught her ankle.
Claire fell hard against the steps.
Oliver appeared at the top of the staircase with a fireplace poker in his hand.
His face changed when he saw Claire on the floor.
“Get away from her.”
Vale lunged upward.
Oliver swung the poker.
It struck Vale’s forearm with a sickening crack.
Diane released Claire.
Oliver pulled his sister into the kitchen.
“How did you get in?” Claire gasped.
“You missed three calls. I came to check.”
Diane emerged from the stairwell.
“This is a private family matter.”
Oliver raised the poker.
“Your private family matter has a restraint room.”
Diane glanced toward the front hall.
Claire heard a lock turn.
Mark entered the house.
He saw Oliver, the poker, and Claire’s torn sleeve.
For one hopeful second, Claire believed he had returned to help her.
May you like
Then Mark closed the front door.
And locked it again.
