“You’re dead.”
“Apparently not.”
I stepped into the room.
I wanted to hug him.
I wanted to punch him.
I wanted to scream.
Instead I stood there like somebody had unplugged every normal emotion in my body and left only static.
“You let us bury you.”
His expression changed.
“I didn’t.”
“We had a funeral.”
“I know.”
“You knew?”
“Later.”
“How long have you been here?”
He looked toward Vanessa again.
“Eleven weeks.”
I turned so quickly my shoulder struck the wall.
“Eleven weeks?”
Vanessa wiped her face.
“Darius—”
“You had my brother locked inside this house for eleven weeks?”
“It didn’t start like this.”
“He’s behind a locked wall.”
“I know.”
“Our daughter is feeding him.”
“She wasn’t supposed to know.”
“That makes it better?”
“No.”
Michael stood.
He was weak.
His knees shook.
Lily grabbed his hand.
“Sit down.”
He smiled at her.
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
She sounded exactly like her mother.
Even in that moment I noticed.
Michael sat again.
I looked at Vanessa.
“Why?”
She opened her mouth.
Nothing.
“Why is my brother inside a locked room?”
Michael answered for her.
“Because Mom told her to keep me here.”
I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the sentence was impossible.
“What?”
Michael’s eyes did not leave mine.
“Vanessa didn’t order this.”
He pointed toward the hidden door.
“Mom did.”
“My mother?”
“Our mother.”
“No.”
“Darius.”
“No.”
Michael looked tired.
“I reacted the same way.”
I shook my head.
“My mother thinks you’re dead.”
“No.”
“She does.”
“No.”
“She stood beside me at your funeral.”
“I know.”
“She cried.”
“I know.”
“She paid search crews for three weeks.”
“She knew I was alive before the funeral.”
The hallway tilted.
I grabbed the doorframe.
Vanessa moved toward me.
I raised a hand.
“Don’t.”
She stopped.
Michael spoke softly.
“You need to sit down.”
“I’m not sitting down.”
“Okay.”
“Start talking.”
Vanessa looked at Lily.
“Not here.”
I almost exploded.
Michael said:
“She’s right.”
I stared at him.
He nodded toward my daughter.
“Lily shouldn’t hear this.”
I looked down.
Her face had become frightened.
I crouched in front of her.
“Baby.”
“Are you mad?”
“Yes.”
Her face collapsed.
“Not at you.”
I touched her arms.
“Never at you.”