Chapter 1: The Backpack
My eight-year-old daughter was doubled over on the kitchen floor, crying so hard she could barely breathe, while my wife stared at her phone and said, “She’s just being dramatic.””
I had heard Maya cry before.
This was different.
Her little fists were pressed against her stomach. Her face had gone gray beneath the freckles across her nose, and sweat darkened the hair stuck to her forehead.
“Maya?”” I dropped to my knees beside her.
“Look at Dad.””
She tried.
Her eyes were wide with terror.
“It hurts,” she whispered.
“Where?””
She grabbed her stomach.
“Here.””
Claire finally looked up from her phone.
She sighed.
“Oh, come on, Daniel.””
I stared at her.
Claire tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and looked at Maya like she was an inconvenience interrupting her afternoon.
“She ate half a box of cookies yesterday,” Claire said.
“She probably has a stomachache.””
Maya shook her head.
“No.””
“What do you mean, no?”” Claire asked.
Maya's eyes immediately dropped to the floor.
That frightened me more than the crying.
Claire had always been strict with Maya. Strict about manners. Strict about homework. Strict about cleaning her room.
But recently, something had changed.
Maya had become afraid of her.
Not rebellious.
Not annoyed.
Afraid.
I reached for my daughter.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.””
Claire stood.
“Daniel, seriously?””
“Yes.””
“She’s going to be fine.””
“You don't know that.””
Claire's expression tightened.
“I’m her mother.””
“And I’m her father.””
For a second, neither of us moved.
Then Maya whimpered.
I scooped her into my arms.
Her body felt frighteningly light.
She wrapped both arms around my neck.
“Dad?””
“I’m here.””
“Don’t let Mommy take my bag.””
I glanced toward the hallway.
Her backpack was sitting beside the front door.
Bright red.
Covered in little embroidered stars.
I had bought it for her at the beginning of second grade because she had spent twenty minutes in the store deciding between red and purple.
“Why?”” I asked.
She buried her face against my shoulder.
“Just don't.””
Claire's voice came from behind me.
“Maya, give me the backpack.””
Maya's arms tightened.
“No.””
Claire's voice became sharper.
“Maya.””
“No!””
The sound of it stopped me.
Maya never talked to Claire like that.
I carried her toward the door.
Claire followed.
“I’ll get the bag.””
“I'll get it.””
She stopped.
For just a fraction of a second, I saw something in her face.
Panic.
Then it disappeared.
“I said I’ll get it,” she repeated.
“I heard you.””
I picked up the backpack myself.
It felt heavier than usual.
Not dramatically.
Just enough for me to notice.
Claire reached for it.
Maya suddenly screamed.
“NO!””
I froze.
Claire froze too.
Maya started shaking in my arms.
“Please, Dad.””
Her voice was barely audible.
“Don't let Mommy touch it.””
I looked at Claire.
She was staring at the backpack.
Not Maya.
The backpack.
“Claire,” I said slowly.
“What’s in here?””
“School stuff.””
“Then why are you so desperate to take it?””
“I’m not desperate.””
“You just tried to grab it.””
“I was trying to help.””
Maya began crying again.
I didn't argue.
I took the backpack, carried Maya to the car, and drove straight to the emergency room.
Claire followed in her SUV.
The entire drive, I kept looking at Maya in the rearview mirror.
She was curled against the passenger-side door, holding her stomach.
Her red backpack sat on the floor between her feet.
She kept one hand on it.
Protecting it.
At the hospital, nurses rushed her into an examination room.
The fluorescent lights made everything look painfully white.
A nurse named Rebecca checked Maya's temperature and blood pressure.
“When did the pain start?”” Rebecca asked.
“This morning,” I said.
Maya shook her head.
Rebecca looked at her gently.
“Was it before school?””
Maya nodded.
“Did you eat anything unusual?””
Another nod.
“What did you eat?””
Maya looked toward Claire.
Claire was standing near the wall.
Her arms were crossed.
“Just cereal,” she answered.
Rebecca looked at Maya.
“Is that right?””
Maya didn't answer.
I noticed Rebecca notice it too.
The nurse pulled up a chair.
“Sweetheart, you can tell me.””
Maya's fingers curled around Rebecca's hand.
Then she whispered,
“Please don't let my mommy take my bag.””
Claire moved immediately.
“That's enough.””
She crossed the room.
Maya recoiled.
I stepped between them.
“Claire.””
“Give me the backpack.””
“No.””
Her eyes flashed.
“Daniel, this is ridiculous.””
Maya began sobbing.
“Please!””
Rebecca stood.
“Ma'am, please step back.””
Claire ignored her.
“She has no business bringing that filthy thing into a hospital room.””
“Then why do you care so much about it?”” I asked.
Claire's face went pale.
“I don't.””
“You've asked for it three times.””
“I said I don't care.””
She lunged.
Her hand grabbed the strap.
I pulled it away.
“Stop!””
Claire stumbled backward.
The room went silent.
Maya was crying into Rebecca's arm.
I stared at my wife.
“What are you hiding?””
“Nothing.””
“Then you won't mind if I open it.””
She didn't answer.
That was the answer.
I set the backpack on the examination table.
Maya watched me through tear-filled eyes.
I slowly unzipped the front pocket.
Nothing.
Pencils.
A broken crayon.
A small notebook.
I opened the main compartment.
A stuffed rabbit.
A school folder.
A lunch container.
Then my fingers touched something beneath the lining.
Something hard.
Wrapped in a plastic grocery bag.
I pulled it out.
Claire whispered,
“Daniel, don't.””
I looked at her.
Then I unwrapped it.
A small black phone fell into my palm.
It wasn't Maya's.
She didn't own a phone.
I stared at the screen.
There was no password.
There was one notification.
*VOICE RECORDING SAVED — 11:42 PM*
My stomach tightened.
I looked at Maya.
Then at Claire.
“Whose phone is this?””
Claire said nothing.
I pressed the screen.
A recording appeared.
The date was three nights earlier.
I tapped play.
At first, there was only static.
Then I heard Claire's voice.
May you like
And my blood turned cold.
“You're going to do exactly what I tell you, Maya.””
