Chapter 4 - Why I went downstairs
The night I was locked below, I was already afraid of Derek.
Not afraid enough.
That difference matters.
At 9:16 p.m., the apartment lights went out.
Lily looked at me from the couch.
Noah said:
“Dark.”
I checked the hallway.
Building lights.
My stomach tightened.
I knew what it could mean.
But Derek had moved out.
He no longer had keys to the apartment.
I believed his exterior building key had been returned.
I was wrong about the basement service key.
The landlord had never changed that lock after our separation because I did not tell him Derek once had access through his old maintenance favor arrangement.
Derek had helped the owner fix flooring in the basement two years earlier.
He still possessed a copied service key.
I did not know.
I told Lily:
“Stay here with Noah.”
She said:
“Are you going downstairs?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want you to.”
I should have listened.
Instead I turned on my phone flashlight.
Then stopped.
The battery was at eight percent and charging.
So I left the phone.
My purse too.
I thought I would be gone sixty seconds.
Then I said something that later haunted me:
“Don’t follow me, even if you hear me downstairs.”
Why did I say it?
Because somewhere inside me, I suspected Derek.
I still went.
Contradiction.
Parents make bad decisions while thinking they are reducing risk.
I locked the apartment door behind me so the children would be secure.
Went down.
Reached the breaker.
Our unit switch was off.
I touched it.
Then heard Derek behind me.
“Now you’ll answer.”
I turned.
He stood beside the storage cages.
Dark jacket.
No weapon.
Hands empty.
I said:
“Get out.”
He answered:
“We’re talking.”
“I’m calling the police.”
“With what phone?”
May you like
He already knew I had left it upstairs.
That terrified me more than the words.
