Chapter 7 - Voices from the Past
The metallic click of the bedroom door latch turning filled the quiet space under the bed. Lily froze, her finger still resting lightly on the stop button of the yellow boombox as the recorded voice continued to whisper through the static.
"They aren't your parents, Lily. The real ones—"
The bedroom door swung open with a sharp creak. A pair of heavy, polished black boots stepped into the room, casting a long shadow across the carpet. A bright flashlight beam cut through the darkness, sweeping methodically under the bed, missing Lily’s hiding spot by mere inches.
"Clear in here," a gruff male voice called out toward the hallway. "Looks like another room undisturbed."
Lily held her breath, pressing her face hard against her knees to stifle the sound of her own breathing. Her heart hammered so loudly she was certain the officer could hear it.
Out in the hallway, frantic footsteps approached the doorway. Elena’s voice rang out, trembling with practiced, fragile panic.
"Officer, please! You have to be careful. Our daughter is severely traumatized. She sleepwalks, and she isn't entirely stable after the kitchen fire. If you startle her—"
"We just need to check on her welfare, ma'am," the officer replied, his tone softening slightly. "Where is she?"
"She was in the hallway a moment ago," Mark’s voice cut in, deeper and strained. "Lily? Honey, come out. The police are here to help."
Lily bit her lower lip hard enough to taste copper. They were putting on a show for the authorities. The loving, terrified parents act was a rehearsed routine, perfected over months of hiding whatever dark secret lived within these walls. The cassette tape resting on the floor beside her hummed quietly, looping a faint, ghostly hum of static. The words They aren't your parents echoed endlessly in her mind. If Mark and Elena weren't her mom and dad, then who were they? And where were the people who actually raised her?
Inside the room, the heavy boots shifted. The flashlight beam swept the floor one last time, catching the edge of the yellow boombox.
"What's that under the bed?" the officer muttered, his voice dipping sharply as he bent down, his hand reaching out to grab the edge of the dust ruffle.
Panic surged through Lily’s veins. Without thinking, she kicked backward against the drywall, knocking a heavy framed picture off the dresser. It crashed to the floor, shattering loudly on the other side of the room.
"Over there! Did something move?" the second officer shouted from the hallway, rushing into the bedroom.
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Distracted by the crashing frame, the first officer stood up, turning his flashlight toward the broken glass. "False alarm. Just a loose picture frame."
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