My family locked me in the basement to give birth. Days later, they returned to find a dark red liquid seeping from the door. As my mother screamed, a voice whispered behind her, “Looking for me?”

into the cavernous kitchen. The room was submerged in shadows, illuminated only by the sterile green digits of the oven clock. As I filled a glass from the tap, a sudden shift in the ambient air made the hairs on my arms stand up. I spun around.

Samantha stood blocking the threshold. In the dim light, her features were hardened, stripped of any sisterly continue reading …