Chapter 8: Dad Stands Between the Children and the Locked Hallway
Dad moved before my stepmother could grab either of us again. He crossed the narrow space beside the wall and planted himself between her and my sister, shoulders squared, one hand raised to keep her back. It was the first time since we had returned to the hallway that he looked less confused than angry.
My stepmother stopped, but only because he gave her nowhere to go without pushing through him.
Behind Dad, the torn wallpaper remained visible. The hallway’s weak light caught the pale flowers and the jagged edge where the paper had separated. I could still see a few blonde strands against the darker opening. My sister saw them too. She slipped away from my side and took one step toward the wall.
I caught her hand.
She resisted without looking at me. Her fingers stretched toward the tear as if she could reach through the distance and pull our mother out. I turned her by the shoulders, putting my body between her and the wallpaper. Her blue eyes stayed fixed past me.
I pointed toward the far end of the hall.
She shook her head.
I tightened my grip and began walking backward, making her come with me. Every few steps, she twisted to look behind us. I kept moving. The wall had already drawn us back once. I would not let it do it again while my stepmother stood close enough to touch her.
Dad followed, still facing my stepmother. He moved sideways so he remained between her and us. She matched him for several feet, her shoes striking the floor in hard, measured taps. Her face had lost its sneer. What replaced it was flatter and more careful.
At the blocked access point, Dad reached behind himself and pulled at the door separating the central hallway from the front section of the mansion. It resisted against the floor. He forced it open far enough for my sister and me to squeeze through.
I guided her across the threshold. Dad came next, then turned and shoved the door closed.
My stepmother reached it before the latch caught. The impact drove the door partly open, and for a second I saw her hand around its edge. Dad leaned his weight into the wood. His shoes slid, then held. Her fingers vanished. The latch clicked.
There was a key already in the lock on our side. Dad turned it.
The handle jerked immediately.
Once. Twice.
Then it stopped.
The closed door gave us distance, but it also left the wallpaper on the other side. Through the tall pane of old glass set beside the doorway, I could see a narrow angle of the hallway. The floral pattern continued along the wall, and the tear was barely visible near the edge of the frame. My stepmother passed through that sliver of view, moving toward it.
Dad saw her too.
He pulled a narrow table across the doorway. Its legs scraped loudly over the floor, and the vase on top rocked until I grabbed it. Together, we lowered the vase to the carpet. Dad wedged the table beneath the handle. It would slow the door if the lock failed, but it would not stop anyone from reaching the wall from the hallway side.
My sister pressed both hands against the glass.
I drew her away before my stepmother could reappear. This time she came with me, though she kept her face turned toward the pane until the wall disappeared from view.
The front doors were only a short distance away. Dad checked them, then glanced back at the barricade. He was breathing hard. For once, he did not look toward my stepmother for permission or explanation. He pointed at the doors and kept himself behind us, guarding the route from the hall.
I reached into my hoodie pocket and felt my phone.
Inside the mansion, my stepmother could deny what we had seen. She could cover the tear, remove the hair, or find another way into that section of the house. Dad could hold one door, but he could not watch every entrance and protect my sister at the same time.
I took out the phone and held it where he could see it. Then I pointed first toward the locked hallway and then toward the front doors.
May you like
Dad looked at my sister, at the barricade, and finally at the screen in my hand. He gave one short nod.
The handle behind the table began to move again as I woke the phone and opened the emergency call screen.
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