Chapter 1 - The Scream
My daughter was three weeks old when I heard a scream from behind the downstairs bathroom door.
Not her hungry cry. Not the offended squeak Lily made during diaper changes.
A scream.
Sharp. Terrified.
I dropped the tiny white onesie in my hand and ran.
Five minutes earlier, Linda Carter had smiled at me in the kitchen and said, “You look exhausted, Emma. Go switch the laundry. I can hold my granddaughter for five minutes.”
Linda was my husband Ryan’s stepmother. She had been married to his father for twelve years before he died. She could be controlling. She could make a compliment sound like a correction. But dangerous?
I had never let myself think that word.
I slammed my shoulder into the bathroom door.
Linda stood over the toilet with both hands pressing down on the lid.
Something underneath it screamed again.
“What are you doing?”
Linda spun around. Her face didn’t look shocked.
It looked annoyed.
I shoved past her, lifted the lid, and saw pink fabric in the water.
For one second my mind refused to understand what I was seeing.
Then I reached in and pulled Lily against my chest.
She was soaked, furious, and screaming hard enough to shake her whole tiny body.
I sank to the tile with her tucked under my chin.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Lily. Mommy’s here.”
Linda backed toward the sink.
“You’re overreacting.”
I looked at her.
My hands stopped shaking.
“What did you just say?”
“She had a diaper accident. I was cleaning her. She slipped.”
“You were pressing the lid down.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“I saw you.”
Linda’s eyes changed. The softness disappeared.
Then the front door opened.
“Emma?” Ryan called. “Why is there an ambulance outside?”
I hadn’t called one.
Linda looked at me and smiled.
May you like
Very slightly.
And that was when I realized she had called them before I even opened the bathroom door.
