The dream came again, but this time, it was sharper.
I was back in the wooden box. The darkness was absolute, smelling of pine and old terror. I hugged my knees to my chest, my small, five-year-old body trembling violently.
Above me, the floorboards creaked under heavy boots. Voices, muffled and angry, argued back and forth. Glass shattered. A woman screamed—a sound of pure, unadulterated agony that made my ears ring.
Then, silence.
Footsteps approached my hiding spot. Slow. Deliberate.
"Did you find it?" a voice growled.
"I found her," another voice replied. A voice I knew. A voice that sounded like home, twisted into something monstrous.
The trapdoor above me was wrenched open. Light flooded in, blinding me.
I looked up, squinting against the glare. A man stood over me, his silho
