Chapter 6 - THE WHITE WOODEN DUNGEON
Lily released her grip on her father’s trousers.
She stepped out from the shadow of his legs.
Her pastel dress was wrinkled, damp with tears on the left side.
She walked slowly toward the back of the dining room.
Her bare feet stepped carefully over the spilled red wine.
She stopped in front of a tall, white wooden door built into the wall.
It was the pantry.
A heavy, brass padlock hung securely through the metal latch, glinting in the light.
Lily raised a small, trembling finger.
She pointed directly at the brass lock.
"Daddy, sometimes she locks the food in there."
To a child, the door wasn't just a cabinet.
It was a prison where survival was kept hostage in the dark.
The man slowly turned his head.
His dark eyes followed the line of his daughter’s finger, landing heavily on the padlock.
Mason pushed his chair back.
The wooden legs screeched against the floorboards.
He stood up, his blue polo looking suddenly too big for his narrow shoulders.
He looked at the red handprint swelling on his mother’s cheek.
Then he looked at his stepfather.
"Dad, that's not the worst thing she does when you're at work."
The man’s spine stiffened.
He did not look at Mason.
He slowly rotated his body back toward the woman.
The red mark on her cheek throbbed, contrasting violently against her pale, paralyzed expression.
Her maroon nails dug into the edge of the mahogany table, her knuckles shaking.
The man stepped closer, trapping her between his broad shoulders and the spilled wine.
He pointed a single, thick finger toward the white door.
"Open it."
The woman’s throat worked frantically as she swallowed.
May you like
She looked at the white door, then back at the man’s unblinking eyes.
The chandelier flickered slightly, casting a long, jagged shadow across the locked brass.
