Chapter 2 - The Note on the Counter
I carried Lily into the nearest bedroom and placed her under a pale blanket.
“Stay with me, baby.”
Her eyes fluttered.
“They left us, Grandpa.”
The closet door knocked again.
Soft.
Weak.
Like someone was afraid to make too much noise.
I walked into the hallway.
“Mason?” I called.
Silence.
Then a tiny voice answered, “Grandpa?”
My chest tightened.
I opened the closet door.
Mason stood inside, pale and shaking, holding a dead tablet against his chest. His eyes were swollen from crying. A blanket had been pushed into the corner with him.
He was alive.
He was standing.
He was terrified.
I reached for him, and he stepped into my arms like his legs had been waiting for permission to stop working.
“They said I had to stay there until I learned not to tell,” he whispered.
“Tell what?”
He looked toward Lily’s room.
“That she was sick before they left.”
I closed my eyes for one second.
Not from weakness.
From fury so deep it needed a locked door.
Then I pulled both children close.
“No one is locking you away again.”
Mason began to cry silently into my sweater.
Behind us, Lily whimpered in the bed.
Sirens sounded in the distance.
For the first time that night, I was grateful for the sound.
May you like
Because I was not handling this like a family matter.
Not anymore.
