“Please… let me out. I’m afraid of the dark.”

A trembling whisper pierced the morning silence of a house on the outskirts of San Diego. Daniel Harrington had just returned home unexpectedly after abruptly canceling a business trip to Berlin. For three nights, he had been having the same nightmare: his young daughter crying, calling to him from some enclosed space. This time, he decided not to ignore the embrace that tightened around his chest.

It was exactly two in the morning when he went up to his eight-year-old daughter Lily’s room. The door was ajar. As he gently pushed it open, Daniel felt a strange shiver. The room was spotless. The bed was perfectly made, as if no one had slept in it. Lily’s favorite blanket was carefully placed on the pillow.

Then he heard it.

A light tapping, almost imperceptible, came from the built-in cupboard. Daniel caught his breath and opened the door.

Inside, curled up on the floor, was Lily. Her knees were drawn up to her chest, her arms tightly wrapped around her. She was wearing only thin pajamas. There was no blanket, no pillow. Her face was pale, her eyes swollen and red from crying.

“Lily… what are you doing here?” he murmured, his heart broken.

“Daddy,” she sobbed, throwing herself into his arms. “I thought you were a dream. Mommy said you died in Germany. That you would never come back.”

Daniel felt dizzy. As he lifted her, he noticed something even more alarming: his daughter was too light. Her arms seemed fragile, almost like bones beneath the skin.

“How long have you been sleeping here?” he asked, his voice breaking.

“Since you left three days ago… but before that too, many times,” Lily whispered. “Mom says to keep me locked up so I learn to behave.”

Daniel quickly carried her to her bed and turned on all the lights. He noticed purple marks on the little girl’s arms and a deep fear, unusual for her age. At that moment, he understood that his absence had allowed something terrible to happen.

Downstairs in the kitchen, he heard footsteps. Someone was awake. It was his wife, Vanessa.

Daniel gritted his teeth. What had really happened in that house while he was gone? And what could Lily have possibly endured in silence?

Daniel gently closed Lily’s bedroom door and sat beside her until her trembling subsided. The little girl fell asleep clutching his hand, as if afraid he would disappear again. Daniel watched her labored breathing and felt a mixture of guilt and rage consume him.

He had trusted Vanessa. For years, he had believed that, despite the silences and tensions in their marriage, she would never hurt his own daughter. Now, every memory took on a completely different meaning: the impersonal phone calls, the terse text messages, the excuses he made when Lily refused to participate in a video call.

He went down to the kitchen and found Vanessa sitting with a cup of coffee, as if nothing had happened.

“Since when have you been locking our daughter in a closet?” Daniel asked bluntly.

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