Chapter 20 - A Whispered Warning From the Shadows Outside Home
Midnight ticked quietly across the kitchen clock while our infant son slept soundly in his crib upstairs.
Emily had already gone to bed, exhausted from another busy day of unpacking boxes and adjusting to motherhood.
I stayed downstairs in the living room, finishing up some remote work on my laptop at the dining table.
Suddenly, a sharp, metallic tap echoed against the front glass window pane facing the dark porch.
I froze instantly, my breath catching in my throat as my mind raced back to the horrors of the past.
I crept silently toward the front door, switching off the overhead hallway light to remain hidden in the shadows.
Through the peephole, the front porch was completely empty under the harsh yellow glow of the streetlamp.
Just as I reached out to unlock the deadbolt to investigate the noise, a piece of paper slid underneath the door.
I picked it up with shaking fingers, unfolding the heavy cardstock in the dim light of the hallway.
May you like
Scrawled across the paper in sharp, familiar handwriting that made my blood run ice-cold were four words:
“Prisons cannot hold a mother.”
