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?”

down the hall, stopping violently in front of the heavy oak door leading to the basement.

With one fluid, practiced motion, she twisted the brass knob, yanked the heavy door outward, and delivered a forceful, two-handed shove to my chest.

My feet scrambled for purchase on the top step, but found only air. I pitched backward into the abyss, tumbling down continue reading …