Chapter 2 - Rough Fibers and Pink Cotton
The midday sun beat down mercilessly on the dark timber of the wooden pergola.
Two-year-old Sophie blinked through a burning haze of saltwater tears and dried earth.
Her fine blonde hair was matted with sweat, sticking in limp strands to her forehead.
Dark, gritty mud was smeared across her round cheeks, drying into tight, itchy crusts that pulled at her soft skin.
She clung desperately to the thick vertical wooden post of the pergola.
The rough, unvarnished bark dug painfully into her tender cheek.
A thick strand of natural fiber rope was wrapped twice around the post.
It bound her tiny arms tightly just below her chubby elbows, securing her body flush against the timber.
Her knuckles were stark white.
Her tiny fingernails were filled with grime as she tried to scratch a grip into the deep grooves of the wood.
Her mouth was stretched wide open in a silent, exhausted sob.
The screaming wails from an hour ago had dissolved into dry, rasping hiccups that made her ribs ache.
Her small legs trembled under her weight.
Her light pink dress, once pristine cotton with tiny lace trim, was torn at the hem and soaked with mud and sweat.
Her miniature white leather sandals were half-buried in the damp brown soil around the base of the post.
Ten feet away, the manicured lawn spread out like a vibrant green carpet, glistening in the bright daylight.
In the shaded corner of the fence sat a heavy wooden doghouse.
Sophie stared continuously at the pitch-black square opening of the doghouse door.
The lingering memory of its smell—old cedar shavings, wet fur, and damp, airless earth—made her stomach knot up in nausea.
"Monsters only come out when the sun goes to sleep, sweetie," her father had whispered when he tucked her into bed last week.
Her father was wrong.
The monster was standing right in front of her in the middle of the bright afternoon.
Standing on the elevated concrete patio was a tall, slender figure framed by the sunlight.
Elise wore a flawless, tailor-made cream dress that hugged her narrow waist.
Her golden-blonde hair fell in soft, sculpted waves over her shoulders, catching the natural light like silk.
Elise’s arms were folded neatly over her chest.
There was not a single wrinkle on her linen dress, nor a single strand of hair out of place.
Sophie squeezed her eyes shut until dark spots danced behind her eyelids.
She believed child-logic magic: if she closed her eyes tight enough, the cream dress would disappear, and the rope would dissolve.
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But when she opened them, the rough hemp rope was still cutting into her skin, and the cream dress hadn't moved an inch.
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