Chapter 4 - THE ABANDONED FARMHOUSE
The woods were thick and dark, branches snatching at my clothes, roots tripping my feet, but I didn’t slow down. I ran as fast as I could, my lungs burning, my legs screaming, guided only by the faint glow of headlights up ahead and the sound of tires crunching gravel.
I reached the edge of the clearing minutes later, dropping low behind a thick oak tree, and stared.
The SUV was parked in front of a crumbling white farmhouse, its windows boarded up, its porch sagging, surrounded by tall, dead grass. The engine was off. The headlights cut out. Silence fell over the place — heavy, suffocating silence.
Then the front door opened.
Shawna stepped out first, followed by my father. Between them, holding Keely’s arms tight, was my uncle Roger. Keely was crying, fighting them, kicking her little feet, screaming my name — and Roger was dragging her like she was a sack of flour, not a scared, hurt five-year-old girl.
My blood turned to fire.
“Shut her up!” Shawna snapped, slapping Keely hard across the face.
I bit down on my hand so hard I tasted blood, stifling a scream. Not yet. Wait. If you rush now, they’ll hurt her worse. Wait for the right moment.
My father’s voice drifted over, low and gruff. “This is too much, Shawna. We should have just waited at home. If anyone finds her here—”
“Let them find her!” Shawna hissed. “Elena has twenty-four hours to come crawling back. When she gets here, we’ll make her sign over custody. She’ll agree to anything to get the brat back. And then this little lesson will be over, and everything will go back to how it should be.”
“She’s five,” Roger muttered, shifting Keely’s weight. “Slapping her… locking her up… it feels wrong.”
“Worry about your own family,” Shawna snapped. “Do as I say, or you lose your inheritance. All of you. Now put her inside. Lock her in the root cellar. Keep her quiet. If she cries… give her a reason to cry.”
They dragged Keely toward the house. Keely looked back one last time, her eyes wide and wet, searching the dark trees — and she saw me.
She froze. Hope flared in her face, bright and heartbreaking. She opened her mouth to call out — and Shawna shoved her through the door, slamming it shut behind them.
I waited until the porch light clicked on, until their footsteps faded inside, and then I crept forward, moving slow and silent, every muscle coiled tight. I circled the house, checking windows, checking doors — all locked, all boarded, except for a narrow basement window half-buried in dirt, its glass cracked.
I grabbed a loose rock from the ground, smashed the glass quietly, and cleared the shards away. I took a deep breath, squeezed through the opening, and dropped down into the dark.
The air down here smelled of damp earth and rot. It was pitch black, save for a thin beam of light leaking through cracks in the floorboards above. I stood still, listening.
And then I heard it — a small, muffled sob, coming from somewhere nearby.
“Keely?” I whispered, barely audible.
“Mommy?” Her voice was weak, trembling. “Mommy, I’m here!”
I followed the sound, stumbling over debris in the dark, until I found her — huddled in the far corner, tied loosely to a water pipe with rope, her hands bound, her face streaked with tears, a bright red mark burning on her cheek where Shawna had hit her.
I dropped to my knees beside her, tearing at the rope with shaking hands until it came loose. I pulled her into my arms, holding her so tight it hurt, burying my face in her hair, shaking from head to toe. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby. I’m here. No one is going to hurt you ever again.”
“They hit me,” Keely sobbed into my shoulder. “Grandma said if I cried, she’d leave me here forever. Mommy, I was so scared.”
“I know. I know you were. But I’m here now. We’re going home. Shh… stay quiet. Do exactly as I say. Okay?”
Keely nodded, clinging to my neck. I lifted her up, turned back toward the broken window — and froze.
The basement door creaked open.
Light flooded down the stairs.
Shawna stood there, framed in the doorway, a cruel, satisfied smile curling her lips. Behind her stood my father and Roger.
May you like
“Found her,” Shawna said softly. “Just like I knew you would. Welcome home, Elena.”
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