Page 57 of The Puppeteer and the Poisoned Pawn

“You should have fought harder,” I grit out. “Niles’s father did. Why couldn’t you have been stronger for me?”

I don’t wait for an answer. My hand grips the basement doorknob, and I fling it open, racing to the bottom where little Skylenna holds her hand over her mouth to cry in silence.

Nausea churns up my esophagus, and my heart braids in a tight knot.

Living through it was one thing. Watching my hell unfold in a dark basement is another. I’ve worked hard to avoid these memories. I’ve—

Little Skylenna wipes her nose and rises, shuffling over to the back of the basement, deeper into the darkness.

I don’t remember this. The only memory that surfaces is sitting in my own tears for hours or even a couple of days. Or maybe I blacked out that time?

My feet move behind her as she stares at the wall, sniffling, sobbing into her small hand. And she’s waiting. Watching. Displaying as much patience as she can muster. I look at the dark wall as if something is going to happen. But the only sound is a dripping pipe.

Her cries increase in volume as she begins to unravel into a fit. Her small fists bang against that wall repeatedly. I hiss at the loud noise.

“You have to be quiet,” I whisper-yell. “He’ll come back, and it’ll be so much worse.”

But she can’t hear me. She’s hiccuping, howling, hyperventilating. I can feel her hysteria in my bones, in every nerve ending. It dredges up my own buried demons. The panic attacks I’ve had in dark spaces.

I wait for Jack to charge through that door at the top of the stairs. Wait for him to blindside this screaming little girl.

The wall she bangs on makes a groaning sound, a clink, and suddenly a door opens. Sunlight bursts through the dark basement, streaming over every dim and terrifying corner. The wall is an old cellar door.

I nearly fall back at the blinding light.

But little Skylenna isn’t afraid at all. She reaches her arms up in anticipation. A pair of tan, skinny arms lower down, hooking around Skylenna to pull her up.

I inhale sharply.What the hell?I don’t remember this at all. It’s as if someone has glued a new chapter into my story. New words. New characters. A new ending.

I bolt toward the cellar door before it closes, climbing out after her.

My eyes water as I try to adjust to the sunny day and the gentle spring breeze. Little Skylenna kneels on the ground in front of someone. I step closer, squinting my eyes to—

Oh my god.

A little boy sits in front of her. White shirt, dark-gray breeches, and tousled chocolate-brown hair. But it’s the eyes that tell me exactly who he is.

“Squeeze my hands until it goes away,” he says, and my heart cracks down the middle. “You’re safe with me. Say it.”

“I’m—safe—with—you,” she stutters through her sobs.

“Harder. Say it again, Skylittle.”

Skylittle?

“I’m safe—with y-you.”

“Good. You’re always safe with me,” Kane says, smiling softly. The warm sunrays trickle past the sycamore tree leaves, spilling into his sweet chestnut-brown eyes, only a little lighter than how I remember.

Little Skylenna takes a deep, calming breath, letting go of his hands only to throw her arms around his neck in a surprise embrace. Kane wobbles for a moment, readjusting his seated position, then lets out an endearing chuckle.

“I missed you too,” he says with a voice I can only guess to be about the age of ten. And if that’s correct, then I must be seven here.

Skylenna nuzzles into his neck. “I hate him,” she whines.

Kane doesn’t say anything for a few long moments, weighing her statement in his mind.

“You hate him now. But when you’re older, you might understand what he’s going through.” He runs a hand through her long, tangled hair. “He knows I’m taking you away every time he locks you in that basement. He knows you get to visit the Red Oaks, play, laugh, and have fun with me. That’s our loophole against Demechnef.”

---