The new maid heard weeping beneath the mansion. Opening the heavy basement door, she found the missing wife, starved and chained. As gasps filled the dark room, the wife grabbed her hand, whispering, “Run before he hears you, or he’ll make you my replacement.” Suddenly, footsteps echoed on the stairs…
a single, bruised apple and a glass of murky water. In her other hand, she held the golden key.
My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I waited until she turned the corner toward the back stairs, and then I followed. I moved like a shadow, placing my bare feet on the edges of the steps where the wood was less likely to creak.
