Chapter 2 - DO NOT GO DOWNSTAIRS“Tell me what you need.”
Maya stared at me as though the question were written in another language.
“What?”
“What do you need right now?”
She looked toward the bedroom door.
“Don’t go downstairs.”
“Okay.”
“You mean it?”
“Yes.”
My anger wanted violence.
Not hitting.
Not exactly.
But confrontation can be violence when the person beside you is begging for time.
I sat in the chair across from the bed.
Far enough away that Maya did not have to brace.
“You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine.”
“No.”
She flinched.
I softened my voice.
“You’re not fine.”
Her eyes filled again.
“No.”
“Do you need a hospital?”
“No.”
“Doctor?”
“No.”
Then:
“Maybe.”
Progress.
“Do you want police?”
Panic.
Immediate.
“No.”
I hated my reaction.
“Why?”
She looked toward the door.
“Because your mother has papers.”
“What papers?”
“Things saying I gave them permission.”
“Permission to hurt you?”
“No.”
“Then—”
“Daniel.”
I stopped.
She whispered:
“They have recordings.”
My stomach tightened.
“Of what?”
“Me screaming. Throwing things.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation.
“Why?”
“Because they wouldn’t leave.”
She looked at her hands.
“Because Julian took my keys. Because Victoria kept telling me you wanted the transfers. Because I called her a lying bitch. Because I threw a lamp after Julian locked me in this room.”
I closed my eyes.
“You were locked in here?”
“For two hours.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
I stood automatically.
Maya’s face changed.
I sat again.
“Sorry.”
She watched me.
Then:
“They told me you’d believe them.”
May you like
I could not answer.
Because until twenty minutes earlier, I had.
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