Chapter 1 - The Bread Behind the Wall
The sound of my daughter being slapped was the first thing I heard when I walked into my kitchen.
I stopped so suddenly that my keys slipped from my fingers.
My six-year-old daughter, Lily, stumbled backward against the kitchen counter. One hand flew to her cheek. Tears immediately filled her eyes.
Standing over her was my wife, Claire.
And Claire was already raising her hand again.
I crossed the kitchen before she could bring it down.
I caught her wrist in midair.
"Don't you ever put your hands on my daughter again!"
My voice shook the room.
Claire stared at me, stunned.
"Marcus, you're making this into something it isn't."
"Then tell me what I just saw."
She pulled against my grip.
"She stole food. I was disciplining her."
I looked at Lily.
My little girl was trembling so hard that her pink cardigan shook against her shoulders.
There was a red mark across her cheek.
A mark that hadn't been there when I'd kissed her goodbye that morning.
I released Claire's wrist and knelt in front of my daughter.
"Baby, look at Daddy."
She tried.
But every time her eyes met mine, another sob escaped her.
I gently brushed a tear from her face.
"Did Claire hit you?"
Lily nodded.
Something inside my chest tightened.
"Has she done that before?"
Lily glanced toward Claire.
It was only a glance.
But the fear behind it made my stomach turn.
"Marcus," Claire interrupted, "she's being dramatic. It was one little slap."
I stood halfway.
"One little slap?"
"She needs boundaries!"
"She's six years old!"
Claire folded her arms.
"She took bread after I specifically told her not to. You can't keep letting her do whatever she wants."
I looked at the kitchen counter.
A bread basket sat beside an expensive glass bowl.
One small dinner roll was missing.
That was apparently enough to make my wife strike a child.
I turned back toward Lily.
"Sweetheart, why did you take the bread?"
Her bottom lip trembled.
For a moment, she said nothing.
Then she opened her little hand.
Inside was a crushed piece of bread.
"Daddy..."
Her voice was barely audible.
"I wasn't eating it."
I frowned.
"Then what were you doing?"
She swallowed.
"I was feeding something."
Behind me, Claire went completely silent.
I noticed the change immediately.
Her face had been red with anger seconds earlier.
Now she looked frightened.
"What do you mean, feeding something?" I asked.
Lily's eyes moved toward the hallway.
"It's hungry."
Claire stepped forward.
"Enough of this nonsense."
I raised my hand without looking at her.
"Let her speak."
Lily clutched the bread against her chest.
"I can show you."
She slipped past me and hurried out of the kitchen.
I followed.
Our house was large enough that some rooms hardly got used.
I'd purchased it shortly after my first wife, Elena, passed away.
Elena had loved this house.
She used to say that its creaking floors and old wooden details made it feel alive.
After she died, I'd kept everything as close to the way she'd left it as possible.
Except for the things Claire had changed.
I'd married Claire eighteen months earlier.
At first, she'd seemed patient with Lily.
Kind, even.
She helped with school pickups and made homemade lunches.
She told me she understood how difficult it was for a little girl to lose her mother.
I wanted so badly to believe her.
Looking back, that was the first mistake.
Lily stopped near the hallway connecting the kitchen to our old family room.
She dropped to her knees beside the baseboard.
"Lily, get away from there!" Claire shouted.
My daughter flinched.
I turned sharply.
"Stop shouting at her."
Claire's eyes were fixed on the wall.
Not Lily.
The wall.
And that frightened me more than anything.
Lily pointed toward a narrow opening beneath the wooden trim.
I hadn't noticed it before.
The gap was barely wide enough for her small fingers.
She placed the bread on the floor.
Then she carefully pushed it into the darkness.
"See, Daddy?"
I crouched beside her.
"Who are you feeding?"
She pressed one finger against her lips.
"We have to be quiet."
I leaned toward the opening.
At first, I heard nothing.
Then came a faint scratching sound.
My heart began beating faster.
Something moved behind the wall.
Something alive.
I leaned closer.
A soft, broken sound came from the darkness.
It almost sounded like a tiny cry.
I turned toward Claire.
"What's behind this wall?"
"Probably mice," she answered too quickly.
"Then why didn't you tell me?"
"Because it wasn't important."
I looked at the baseboard.
The paint was scratched.
Several screws were newer than the surrounding hardware.
Someone had removed this section recently.
I stood.
"Where's the screwdriver?"
Claire stepped between me and the wall.
"Marcus, this is ridiculous. Call pest control tomorrow."
"Move."
"You're going to damage expensive woodwork over a child's imagination?"
I walked past her and retrieved a screwdriver from the utility drawer.
When I returned, Lily was still kneeling beside the wall.
She looked up at me.
"Please don't hurt it, Daddy."
I stopped.
"I won't, sweetheart."
Claire grabbed my arm.
"Marcus, leave it alone!"
I pulled free.
"What are you so afraid I'm going to find?"
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
I slipped the screwdriver beneath the damaged trim.
The first section resisted.
I applied more pressure.
Wood cracked.
Claire gasped.
I pulled the panel outward.
Something metallic shifted in the darkness.
Then it fell.
Clang.
A small steel mousetrap struck the hardwood floor.
I stared down at it.
Its heavy spring was armed.
A little piece of old bread was caught near the trigger.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Someone had deliberately placed a dangerous trap inside the wall.
Exactly where my daughter had been reaching.
"Lily," I whispered, "did you know this was here?"
She began crying again.
I turned toward her.
"Baby, tell me."
She wiped her nose against her sleeve.
"Claire put it there."
I couldn't move.
Lily's next words came out between broken sobs.
"She told me never to tell you."
For several seconds, the entire hallway seemed to disappear.
All I could see was that metal trap.
All I could hear was my daughter's frightened voice.
Claire stood behind me.
Silent.
I remembered every time Lily had suddenly stopped talking when Claire entered a room.
Every meal my daughter claimed she wasn't hungry.
Every night she'd asked me not to leave for work.
Every excuse I'd accepted because trusting my wife had been easier than questioning her.
I slowly turned my head.
May you like
Claire's face had gone pale.
And for the first time since our wedding, I looked at the woman I'd married and realized I had absolutely no idea who she really was.
