I locked my wife in the pantry under the stairs

word mother.”

Emily looks at the window.

“She told me something through the door,” she whispers.

My blood turns cold.

“What?”

“After you went upstairs, she came back. She said if I kept the baby, she would make sure it loved her more than me. She said she had already done it once.”

The room tilts.

Already done it once.

My father.

Me.

The pattern is no longer continue reading …