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?”

and stacked cardboard. In the furthest, darkest recess, a rudimentary bathroom nook offered a toilet and a utility sink that spat out freezing, copper-tasting water when forced.

It was only when I stumbled back toward the base of the stairs that my foot struck something deliberately placed.

A heavy-duty plastic storage bin sat on the concrete. I knelt,continue reading …