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?”

brain scrambled to process the sheer malice radiating from her. “Samantha, what is—”

“Walk with me.” Her hand darted out, her fingers clamping around my bicep with a vise-like grip. She wrenched me out of the kitchen and into the dark corridor.

“Let go of me!” I thrashed, but the adrenaline surging through her made her impossibly strong. She hauled me continue reading …