Chapter 1 - THE HAND
Emily Carter had been crying at the same floorboard for three days.
At first Michael thought she liked the sound.
The old living-room planks shifted slightly under pressure, and one board near the fireplace had a narrow raised edge.
Emily would crawl across the rug, reach the board, and pry at it with both hands.
Then cry.
Every time.
That afternoon she did it again.
Michael rushed over.
“Why does she keep pulling at that board?”
Emily made a frustrated sound and dug her tiny fingers beneath the edge.
Michael stood.
He grabbed a hammer from the repair basket beside the wall.
Vanessa ran in from the hallway.
She wrapped both arms around him.
“There’s NOTHING under there!”
Michael froze.
He turned.
Vanessa’s face was white.
Not annoyed.
Afraid.
“Move.”
“Michael, don’t.”
“MOVE.”
He shoved her away.
Then swung.
The hammer struck the floorboard.
Crack.
Vanessa screamed:
“STOP!”
Michael hit it again.
Harder.
The plank split near the nail line.
He dropped the hammer, caught the broken edge, and ripped upward.
Dust lifted.
The plank came free.
Emily stopped crying.
She stared into the dark gap.
Michael leaned closer.
A human hand pushed upward.
He jerked backward so violently he struck the couch.
Emily screamed.
Vanessa went completely still.
The hand trembled.
Dirty.
Thin.
Alive.
Michael stared.
“What the hell…?”
Then a voice came from beneath the floor.
Weak.
Female.
“Vanessa?”
Michael turned slowly.
His wife’s knees buckled.
The voice came again.
“Please.”
Vanessa whispered:
“No.”
Michael looked into the opening.
“Who is that?”
Vanessa backed toward the doorway.
May you like
Then the woman below said one sentence.
“Michael, she told you I ran away.”
