Chapter 4 - The Confession in the Dust
The cold concrete bit into Lily’s back as she shrank away from the approaching figure of her father. Mark stopped three feet away, the heavy iron wrench dangling loosely at his side. The harsh light of the work lamp cast deep, bruised shadows beneath his eyes, making him look like a stranger wearing her father’s skin.
"Are you going to hurt me, Dad?" Lily whispered, her voice barely audible over the low hum of the furnace.
Mark flinched, the harshness in his features fracturing for a brief second. He dropped the wrench; it hit the concrete floor with a dull, echoing clang that made Lily jump. He dragged both hands down his face, wiping away an invisible layer of exhaustion.
"Hurt you?" Mark let out a dry, humorless laugh that held no joy. "Lily, everything I have done—everything your mother and I have endured—was to keep you safe from what happened right here in this room."
"What happened?" Lily demanded, summoning a sudden surge of courage that surprised even herself. She pointed at the charred corner and the piles of white plates. "Why are there all these plates? Why did you burn the kitchen?"
Mark sighed, the sound heavy with a lifetime of buried secrets. He knelt down on the dusty floor, keeping a safe distance from her.
"We didn't burn the kitchen, Lily. You did."
The words hung in the damp air like physical blows. Lily’s breath caught in her throat. "That’s a lie. I was asleep in my bed."
"That’s what we told the insurance adjusters. That’s what we told the police to keep them from taking you away," Mark said, his voice dropping to a harsh, pleading whisper. "You were sleepwalking, Lily. You’ve done it since you were six. But this time, you brought a red gasoline can up from the garage. You poured it across the floor while you were sleepwalking, muttering things about monsters in the walls. When I woke up and tried to stop you, you struck a match."
Lily stared at him, her chest heaving as wave after wave of denial crashed over her. "No. No, I don't remember that. You're making it up!"
"I wish I were," Mark said bitterly. "Look at the photographs, Lily. Look at what you did to the living room curtains after the fire. We found you standing over your sleeping mother with a pair of kitchen shears."
Before Lily could process the horrifying weight of his words, a loud, frantic crash echoed from the top of the basement stairs.
May you like
"Mark! Lily!" Elena’s voice screamed from the darkness above, thick with genuine terror. "Get out of the basement right now! Someone just broke through the front window!"
---
