William carried Lily to the couch.

Her body weighed almost nothing.

He could feel her ribs through her shirt.

Eva followed close behind, clutching the back of his jacket with both fists.

"Get a blanket," William said without turning around.

Eva ran to the hallway closet.

The sound of her small feet on the floor was the only noise in the house.

His wife — Sandra — had not moved from the doorway.

She was still watching.

Arms still crossed.

William knelt beside the couch and looked at Lily's face.

She was twenty-three.

His younger sister.

The last time he had seen her, she had been standing outside his mother's house with a suitcase, waving goodbye.

That was four months ago.

"Lily." He kept his voice steady.

"Look at me."

Her eyes opened slowly.

They were red and dry.

"William." She reached for his hand.

Her fingers were cold.

"I'm here.

You're safe now.

Can you tell me what happened?"

She tried to sit up.

He helped her.

Eva came back with the blanket and pressed it gently over Lily's legs without being asked.

Lily looked down at the little girl and something moved across her face — something between pain and gratitude.

"She fed me," Lily whispered.

"Every day.

She would sneak in when Sandra wasn't watching."

William looked at his daughter.

Eva stared at the floor.

"I heard crying," she said quietly.

"Under the kitchen.

I didn't know what it was at first.

Then I found the grate and I looked through and I saw her hand."

"How long ago was that?"

"A long time ago, Daddy.

Before my birthday."

William's birthday had been six weeks ago.

Eva's was two weeks before that.

He stood up slowly and turned around.

Sandra was still in the doorway.

She had not moved an inch.

But her expression had shifted — barely, just enough.

The watching had become something more calculated.

She was not panicking.

She was thinking.

"Sandra." His voice came out flat.

"Sit down."

"William, I can explain—"

"Sit.

Down."

She sat at the kitchen table.

She placed her hands flat on the surface, fingers spread.

Composed.

As if she were about to negotiate a contract.

"How did she get under the floor?" William said.

"There's a crawl space.

You know that.

The access panel in the utility room."

"I know where it is.

I'm asking how she got there."

Sandra looked at him.

"She came to the house.

Weeks ago.

She showed up without calling, without warning, and she was in a state.

She was talking about things that made no sense.

I was worried about Eva.

I was worried about what she might do."

"So you locked her under the floor."

"I didn't lock her.

The panel closes from the inside too.

I told her it was temporary.

Just until she calmed down."

Lily made a sound from the couch.

Not a word.

Just a sound.

"She's lying," Lily said.

Her voice was stronger now.

Just slightly.

"She locked it from the outside.

There's a bolt.

I couldn't get out.

I screamed for the first two days and nobody came."

William looked at the utility room door.

He walked to it.

Opened it.

Crouched down and found the access panel in the baseboard.

There was a bolt on the outside.

A new one.

The screws were still bright.

Recently installed.

He stood up and came back to the kitchen.

"That bolt," he said.

"When did you put that on?"

Sandra said nothing.

"WHEN DID YOU PUT IT ON?"

"You don't understand what she told me," Sandra said.

Her voice stayed level.

"You don't know what she came here saying about you.

About us.

About this family."

William went still.

"What did she say?"

Sandra looked at him for a long moment.

Then she looked at Lily.

And she smiled.

Just slightly.

Just enough.

"Ask her," Sandra said.

"Ask her why she really came."