He blocked the sun with his hand, looking straight at our living room window.

I tried to lift my hand to wave.

My arm felt too heavy to move, like it was pinned under a sandbag.

I managed to raise my fingers and tap them weakly against the bottom pane.

Arthur took a step forward.

He dropped the yellow hose onto the grass.

The water kept running, pooling into the dirt.

He walked quickly across the asphalt of the street, his eyes locked on our house.

He reached our front yard, his face showing clear concern.

I saw him jog up the front porch steps.

He disappeared from my view.

A second later, the heavy brass door knocker rattled.

The sound echoed through the empty hallway.

“Marissa?” Arthur’s voice was muffled through the heavy wood. “Are you in there?”

I opened my mouth to reply, but nothing came out.

My throat was completely dry.

The door handle jiggled violently from the outside.

“Marissa, the lock is bolted from the outside,” he called out. “And there’s a padlock on the latch. Where is Landon?”