The Last Text Said “If the Little Girl Keeps Looking, We’ll Take Her Too”

Old photographs hung on the walls.

And in the back, a staircase was blocked with a chain.

James smashed the lock with a heavy ceramic flowerpot.

We ran upstairs.

“Mason!”

The first room was empty.

The second was locked.

Someone was crying inside.

James kicked the door.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The wood gave way.

And there he was.

My son.

Sitting on the floor.

Thinner.continue reading …