Chapter 2 - Beneath the Shadow
The world beneath Sarah’s brown wool blazer was dark, hot, and suffocatingly small.
Eight-year-old Lily pressed her face into the scratchy fabric of Sarah’s sweater, her hands clutching frantically at the woman's waist. Every time the heavy black rod struck Sarah’s back, a violent tremor shuddered through the grown woman’s body, accompanied by a wet, strangled gasp that vibrated directly against Lily’s cheek.
"Hold on, sweetheart," Sarah gritted out, her voice raw and breaking with excruciating pain. "Don't look up. Keep your eyes closed. I’ve got you."
Lily couldn't close her eyes. Terror had locked her muscles and forced her eyelids wide open. The darkness beneath the blazer was broken only by thin slivers of harsh fluorescent light filtering through the weave of the brown cloth.
On Lily’s left cheek, a severe red swelling pulsed with burning pain—a terrible souvenir from the very first blow Victoria had struck before Sarah had hurled herself over the child. Tears streamed down Lily's face, washing pale tracks through the dust and blood on her skin.
Thwack.
Another blow struck Sarah’s left shoulder blade. Sarah gasped, her arms tightening around Lily until the little girl could barely breathe. But Lily didn't complain. She knew that the moment Sarah let go, the dark monster in the red dress would turn the black stick on her again.
Through the gaps in the fabric, Lily looked up at the terrifying shadow looming over them. She knew that dress. She knew the perfume—a suffocating smell of sweet jasmine that now smelled like terror itself. It was the woman who claimed to be her mother, the woman who had disappeared three years ago into private psychiatric clinics, only to return like a ghost demanding her flesh and blood back.
Lily’s breath came in ragged, shallow gasps. Her small lungs burned. The suffocating heat inside the makeshift sanctuary of the blazer felt like an oven. She squeezed her eyes shut for a brief second, imagining her father's face—his calm brown eyes, his deep voice that always assured her that the monsters couldn't reach her inside their grand glass castle.
Dad, she pleaded silently, her heart pounding with a deafening rhythm in her ears. Where are you?
Outside the fabric shield, Victoria screamed something unintelligible—a high-pitched, ragged roar of pure delusion. The black baton whistled through the air again.
Sarah groaned, her elbow collapsing slightly under the weight of the assault. The protective canopy began to give way, exposing Lily's small shoulder to the open air of the lobby.
Lily lifted her head, looking out from beneath the brown blazer toward the massive glass sliding doors.
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Through the glare of the afternoon sun, she saw a figure running toward them. His gray suit jacket was unbuttoned, his red tie flying over his shoulder, his face twisted into a mask of pure desperation.
"Dad!" Lily screamed into the suffocating darkness, her voice breaking into a ragged sob. "Dad, help me!"
