Page 75 of Lethal Weakness

“Well?” It doesn’t matter what he says anymore; I’m done arguing. Defending myself will get me nowhere. But I have to know the truth.

“You should know that I’m always watching you, Linden.”

No…

I look at Merrill and Edmund, but neither of them says anything. They let their son walk all over me like they always have. “How can you do this to me and still sleep at night?”

Nothing.

“I am a damn good mother, and you all know it. Come on, Avery. Let’s go.”

“No! My kitty!” She squeezes the white furry baby to her chest, and the cat lets her. Leaving me to be the one to break my daughter’s heart.

“The kitty needs to get used to its new home. It will probably be sad tonight because it was ripped away from its mother,” I say directly and clearly to the other adults in the room.

“She’ll be fine. She won’t even remember her mother exists in a few days,” Merrill challenges, and I scoff deep in my chest.

“You’re sick.”

“Actually, I think her mother died in a freak accident. Isn’t that a shame?” Turner adds, and a wave of ice crashes into me.

“You wouldn’t…” I look at Merrill and Edmund, but they’re looking at Turner. Not denying what he said, but rather annoyed that he said it out loud.

“Avery, we’re leaving,” I demand, reaching for her.

“No, I want my kitty.” She jumps away from me.

“She can stay in her room tonight,” Edmund adds idiotically.

“I wanna take kitty home,” Avery cries, clinging to the cat.

“Yeah, I think it is a good idea to stay here tonight, Avery,” Turner quips just to get under my skin, but it’s the wrong thing to say to a little girl who only sleeps with her mommy every night.

“No!” She cries and sprints out of the room with the cat clutched to her chest.

“Avery, wait!” I run after her, but she’s quick, and she seems to have a destination in mind already.

Her pink dress flows wildly behind her as she runs through the hallway and past the kitchen.

“We can just go home, sweetie. Don’t run!” I beg, nearly within arm’s reach, until she dips into the vacant playroom I discovered a few weeks ago.

I slow down and take a deep breath, because at least now she’s contained and I can handle this without the audience down the hall.

But when I step into the room, it’s empty.

“Avery?” Nothing. I run to the door on the far wall that’s slightly ajar, where the stairs are.

There’s no response, and as I open the door wide, the stairs are still cloaked in darkness. My hand skims the wall until I find an old-fashioned push light switch that fills the stairwell with warm yellow light.

The door at the top of the spiral staircase is still closed, but there is another door on the back wall that I hadn’t noticed until now.

It’s shorter but wider than a normal door, like an existing armoire that was framed into the wall. The thick wooden doors are split, with an open gap right down the middle.

“Baby, I’m sorry that the cat can’t come home with us. But you can see it when you come back. I promise,” I coax softly as I swing the doors open wider.

It’s empty.

Instead, I blink wildly at the open cutout in the back wall. It’s not a crude opening. It’s an entrance nearly the full width of the back of the armoire, covered by a thick metal door like you’d see on a wall safe.