Chapter 2 - The Tea on the Nightstand
The click of the lock sounded like a gunshot.
Mark stood between me and the exit.
The shadow from the hallway framed his broad shoulders.
I slid the drawing behind my back.
I pushed the small wooden box under the bed skirt.
My heart hammered violently against my ribs.
“I was just checking on her,” I said.
My voice sounded fragile.
Unsteady.
Mark took a slow step into the moonlight.
His face was completely calm.
“In the dark?” he asked.
He looked down at my hands tucked behind my frame.
“What’s behind your back, Sarah?”
“Nothing,” I said.
I tried to keep my eyes fixed on his.
“Just adjusting her blanket.”
Mark lowered the glass of water onto her nightstand.
It made a sharp thud.
“You’re a terrible liar,” Mark whispered.
He moved with sudden, terrifying speed.
He grabbed my left wrist.
He yanked my arm forward.
The folded crayon drawing fell to the carpet.
Mark looked down at it.
He didn't panic.
He didn't yell.
He simply extended his foot and stepped on the paper.
He ground his shoe into the crayon drawing.
“She’s very creative, isn’t she?” Mark said gently.
“A damaged mind creates terrible stories.”
“Let go of me,” I snapped.
I tried to pull my wrist away.
His grip tightened until my skin turned white.
“I know what you’re doing, Mark.”
“I heard you on the phone.”
“You’re trying to take her trust fund.”
Mark chuckled softly under his breath.
He leaned down close to my ear.
“And who will believe you?” he whispered.
“The exhausted nurse who can barely keep her eyes open?”
“The mother who leaves her child for fourteen hours a day?”
“I’ve documented everything, Sarah.”
“Every outburst.”
“Every missed school assignment.”
“I’m the stable one here.”
“You’re the one breaking down.”
A whimpering noise came from the bed.
Maya was awake.
She was pulling her sheets up to her chin.
Her eyes were wide with terror as she watched us.
“Mark, please,” Maya squeaked.
“Don’t hurt Mom.”
Mark turned his head toward her.
His expression softened instantly into a fake, fatherly smile.
“Nobody is hurting anyone, sweetheart.”
“Your mother is just confused.”
“She forgot to take her rest.”
He let go of my wrist.
I stumbled back against the bed.
I immediately wrapped my arms around Maya.
She buried her head in my waist.
Her whole body was shivering.
“Get out of her room,” I said through clenched teeth.
Mark adjusted his watch.
“Of course.”
“We’ll finish this in the morning.”
“Oh, and Sarah?”
He stopped at the door.
“Don’t bother looking for your car keys.”
“You’re far too tired to drive anywhere tonight.”
He stepped out and pulled the door shut behind him.
I heard the lock click from the outside.
He had locked us in.
I ran to the door and yanked the handle.
It didn’t budge.
“Mark!” I yelled, slamming my fist on the wood.
“Open this door!”
No response.
Only the quiet hum of the air conditioner downstairs.
I backed away from the door.
Panic was clawing at my throat.
I was trapped in my own home.
I turned back to Maya.
She was pulling the small wooden box out from under her bed.
She held a small silver key on a thread around her neck.
“Mom,” she whispered.
“Use this.”
She unlocked the tiny padlock.
She lifted the wooden lid.
Inside the box were dozens of small white pills.
They were carefully hidden beneath a stack of folded notebook pages.
My breath hitched.
They were my sleeping pills.
The ones the doctor had prescribed me six months ago.
The ones I thought I had lost.
Mark hadn’t been drugging my tea with unknown chemicals.
He was using my own prescription.
“He put them in your cup every night,” Maya said quietly.
“I saw him crushing them with a spoon.”
“I tried to tell you…”
“But he said if I told you, he would put them in my food too.”
“And he said you would go to sleep and never wake up.”
Tears burned my eyes.
My ten-year-old child had been living in absolute terror.
She had been carrying this horrific burden all by herself.
To protect me.
I fell to my knees and pulled her into a tight hug.
“I am so sorry, Maya.”
“I am so, so sorry.”
“I didn’t see it.”
“I was so stupid.”
“It’s not your fault, Mom,” she cried into my shoulder.
“He told me you were sick.”
“He said the pills made you better.”
I pulled back and held her face in my hands.
“We are getting out of here tonight.”
I looked around the room.
The bedroom was on the second floor.
The window led out to the roof above the garage.
It was steep.
It was dangerous.
But it was our only way out.
I walked to the window and unlatched the frame.
I pushed the glass upward.
The cool night air rushed into the room.
“Okay, Maya,” I whispered.
“We’re going to slide down the garage roof.”
“You have to be very quiet.”
She nodded bravely.
“I can do it.”
I helped her climb out onto the dark shingles first.
She gripped my hands tightly until her feet were stable.
Then I climbed out beside her.
We crept down the slope of the roof.
The shingles were rough beneath my bare feet.
At the edge of the roof, a thick oak tree stretched its branches near the gutter.
“Hold onto me,” I murmured.
I grabbed the thickest branch and swung myself down onto the grass.
I caught Maya as she slid into my arms.
We landed with a soft thud on the lawn.
We didn't look back.
We ran down the driveway toward the dark street.
My car was parked at the curb.
The tires were completely flat.
Mark had slashed them.
He had planned for everything.
My heart sank.
We were stranded in our own neighborhood.
With no shoes.
No phone.
And no car.
Suddenly, headlights flashed at the end of the street.
A black sedan was driving slowly toward us.
I grabbed Maya and pulled her behind a tall hedge.
Was it Mark?
Did he notice we were gone?
The car pulled up right in front of our house.
The driver’s side door opened.
A woman stepped out.
She was wearing a dark jacket and holding a thick leather folder.
She looked toward our darkened front porch.
I recognized her instantly.
It was Mrs. Gable.
Maya’s elementary school principal.
Why was she at our house at one o'clock in the morning?
I stepped out from behind the hedge.
“Mrs. Gable?” I called out in a harsh whisper.
The woman turned around sharply.
She pointed a flashlight directly at my face.
“Mrs. Miller?” Mrs. Gable gasped.
She saw our bare feet.
She saw Maya shaking in my arms.
“What is going on here?” Mrs. Gable asked.
“He locked us in,” I said, my voice cracking.
“He’s been drugging me.”
“He’s hurt Maya.”
Mrs. Gable’s eyes widened.
She didn't ask questions.
She opened the back door of her car immediately.
“Get in,” she said firmly.
“Now.”
We scrambled into the back seat.
Mrs. Gable hit the gas and sped down the street.
I leaned back against the headrest, gasping for air.
“How did you know to come?” I asked her.
Mrs. Gable reached into her passenger seat.
She handed me a thick paper document.
“Maya submitted her mid-term creative essay yesterday,” Mrs. Gable said quiet.
“The prompt was to describe your home life.”
“I read it at midnight.”
“I couldn’t sleep after I saw what she wrote.”
I turned on the interior light.
I unfolded the essay.
At the bottom of the page, Maya had written a final sentence in neat cursive.
“My stepdad tells the doctor my mom is crazy, but he is the one who keeps the key in his desk.”
Below her writing was a detailed list of dates.
Dates when Mark had visited a private medical clinic downtown.
Dates that didn't match any of his claimed work trips.
I looked at Mrs. Gable in shock.
“He’s been buying falsified medical reports,” Mrs. Gable said.
“He was building a case to have you committed.”
My hands began to shake.
He wasn't just trying to take her trust fund.
He was going to lock me in an institution.
Suddenly, Mrs. Gable’s cell phone rang on the dashboard.
The caller ID flashed on the screen.
It was Mark.
Mrs. Gable looked at me in the rearview mirror.
“Answer it,” I whispered.
“Put it on speaker.”
Mrs. Gable pressed the button.
“Hello?” Mrs. Gable said smoothly.
Mark’s voice filled the car.
He sounded panicked.
Losing his cool, controlled demeanor for the first time.
“Mrs. Gable,” Mark breathed heavily.
“Did Maya happen to contact you tonight?”
“She’s had a severe psychotic break.”
“She took my wife hostage and ran into the woods.”
“If you see them, do not approach them.”
“Sarah has completely lost her mind.”
I gripped the paper essay tightly.
He was setting his final trap.
May you like
He was telling the world I was dangerous.
If the police found us now, they would believe him.
