I heard his footsteps fade as he ran toward the side of the house.

The silence returned, heavier than before.

I held Rowan closer, feeling the heat radiating from his tiny body.

My eyelids grew incredibly heavy.

I closed my eyes.

Down in the darkness of the basement, a sharp, metallic screech rang out.

It sounded like a crowbar jamming into a rusted iron frame.

Then came the muffled sound of wood splintering.

A heavy thud vibrated through the floorboards.

It came from the direction of the kitchen, where the basement door sat locked from the inside.

I heard the sound of wood splintering again, louder this time.

A latch gave way with a sharp, echoing crack.

Heavy, rapid footsteps echoed on the stairs beneath the kitchen.

The basement door creaked open on its dry hinges.

Arthur’s heavy work boots clicked against the kitchen linoleum, moving fast.

He breathed heavily, his chest heaving as he turned the corner into the living room.

He still wore his faded green flannel shirt and a pair of dirty leather gardening gloves.

“Marissa,” he said, dropping to his knees beside me on the carpet.