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?”

a tomb. There was no shuffling of feet, no whispered debates. There was only the sound of my own ragged, desperate breathing bouncing off the cold foundation of the estate.

When my vision finally acclimated to the gloom, the geography of my prison slowly unveiled itself. A singular, grimy window sat high on the eastern wall, level with the driveway continue reading …