Chapter 5
Kitchen dark except strip light over stove. Chain shadow fell sharp across steel doors. Brass padlock dull glow.
I held phone steady. Breath shallow so hands didn't shake.
First photo: wide shot, fridge + chain + white cabinets context. Second: close-up, rusted chain through handles. Third: padlock shackle closed, keyhole. I angled to catch reflection so timestamp visible on stove clock 12:17.
Floor creaked. I froze. Diane door stayed shut. No footsteps.
I slipped back to bedroom. Opened kitchen drawer where I kept receipts. Kroger, Target, Aldi. $87.43, $42.19, $112.08 last week. All paid with my card. I smoothed them, photographed each, then tucked originals into manila folder from closet shelf. Wrote date on folder with Sharpie. Photos uploaded to cloud folder named House.
Hands steadier now. Documenting made notice real. Not shout. Paper.
Tyler cracked door. Saw folder.
"What's that?" he asked.
"Record," I said. "Conditions."
"For who?"
"For me," I said. "So I remember what happened when I doubt myself later."
He didn't take folder. Looked at chain photos on screen, then away.
"Mom won't like you building case," he said.
May you like
"Chain already case," I said.
He nodded once. Short. Left.
