Chapter 2 - The Child Behind the Wall
I pulled the little girl against my chest before I even realized I was doing it.
"Lily, get behind me."
My daughter ran to my side.
Claire remained on the floor.
The figure inside the wall didn't move.
"Come out," I said.
No response.
"Who are you?"
The photograph remained extended toward me.
My instincts told me to grab the children and run.
But another part of me needed answers.
I took the photograph.
It was old.
The edges were yellowed.
At first, I thought it was simply a photograph of me.
Then I looked closer.
It wasn't.
The man in the picture resembled me so strongly that for several seconds my brain refused to process the differences.
Same jaw.
Same eyes.
Same dark hair.
Beside him stood a woman I recognized.
My mother.
She looked about twenty-five.
I turned the photograph over.
Three words were written on the back.
Daniel, Evelyn — 1991.
Daniel.
My father's name had been Michael.
At least, that's what I'd always been told.
"Who is Daniel?"
The figure finally stepped forward.
He was an older man, perhaps in his late sixties.
Gray beard.
Hollow cheeks.
Worn coat.
He looked exhausted rather than threatening.
The little girl buried her face against me.
"Stay away from her," I said.
He stopped.
"My name is Thomas Vale."
"Why are you inside my house?"
His eyes moved toward Claire.
"Ask your wife."
I turned.
Claire looked destroyed.
"Claire."
"I can explain."
"Then explain."
Thomas gave a bitter laugh.
"She had six months."
I lunged toward him.
"Don't talk about my wife. Tell me why there's a child living inside my wall."
Thomas didn't retreat.
"Because I didn't know where else to take her."
I stared at him.
"Take her from where?"
He looked down.
"From the people who were looking for her."
Claire stood.
"Thomas, stop."
I spun toward her.
"You know him?"
Silence.
"Claire?"
"Yes."
One word.
And somehow it hurt more than anything else.
"How?"
She wiped her face.
"I knew him before we bought this house."
The room seemed to tilt.
"You knew there was somebody inside these walls?"
"No."
Thomas interrupted.
"Not at first."
Claire glared at him.
"Stop."
I looked down at the girl in my arms.
She was frighteningly light.
"When did she get here?"
Thomas answered.
"Six weeks ago."
The noises.
The missing food.
Lily's secret friend.
Six weeks.
I felt sick.
"You kept a child inside my wall for six weeks?"
"I kept her alive."
"You could've called the police."
Thomas's expression hardened.
"The police were exactly who I was afraid to call."
That made no sense.
Nothing made sense.
I looked at Claire.
"Whose child is she?"
Claire's lips trembled.
"I don't know."
Thomas stared at her.
"Yes, you do."
Claire closed her eyes.
I felt something collapse inside me.
"Whose child?"
She couldn't say it.
Thomas did.
"Yours."
For several seconds, I heard nothing.
Not the children breathing.
Not the hum of the heating system.
Nothing.
Then I laughed once.
It was an ugly sound.
"That's impossible."
Thomas said nothing.
"I have never seen this child."
"I know."
"Then she isn't mine."
Thomas pointed toward my neck.
"You saw the mark."
"A birthmark isn't DNA."
"No."
He reached into his coat.
I tensed.
But he removed an envelope.
Inside were medical documents.
I didn't take them.
"Ryan," Claire whispered.
I turned on her.
"You knew?"
She started crying again.
"I knew she might exist."
Those words cut through me.
"Might exist?"
She took one step toward me.
"Please let me explain."
I backed away.
"Don't."
The hidden girl clung tighter to my shirt.
Lily peeked around my leg.
"Is Emma my sister?"
No one answered.
That silence was answer enough for her.
Thomas looked toward the hallway.
"We shouldn't stay here."
"Why?"
"Because they may have followed me."
"Who?"
He hesitated.
"People connected to the clinic."
"What clinic?"
Claire whispered, "Ryan..."
Thomas answered.
"Westbridge Fertility Center."
I knew the name.
Years earlier, before Lily was born, Claire and I had gone there.
We had tried to have a baby for almost two years.
Tests.
Appointments.
Hope.
Disappointment.
Finally, Westbridge.
I remembered signing endless forms.
Blood samples.
Genetic screening.
Storage consent.
Then Claire became pregnant naturally before treatment progressed.
We canceled everything.
Or I thought we had.
I stared at Claire.
"What did you do?"
She shook her head desperately.
"It wasn't what you're thinking."
"What am I thinking?"
"I don't know."
"Neither do I!"
The hidden girl started crying.
I stopped immediately.
Whatever Claire had done, the child wasn't responsible.
I carried her into the bedroom and sat on the bed.
"What's your name?"
She looked toward Thomas.
Then whispered, "Emma."
Lily smiled faintly.
"I told you."
I nearly broke.
Emma.
The imaginary friend had never been imaginary.
"Emma," I said gently, "do you know who your mommy is?"
Her eyes moved to Claire.
Claire froze.
Emma shook her head.
"Do you know me?"
Emma stared at my face.
"Grandpa showed me pictures."
"Grandpa?"
She pointed toward Thomas.
I looked at him.
"You're her grandfather?"
Thomas's expression changed.
"Not exactly."
"Then why does she call you that?"
"Because explaining the truth to a child was harder."
I stood.
"I'm finished with riddles."
Thomas looked directly at me.
"Then you're going to need to hear about Daniel."
The man in the photograph.
The man standing beside my mother.
The man who looked almost exactly like me.
Thomas continued.
"Daniel Mercer was your mother's first husband."
I shook my head.
"My mother was never married before my father."
"That's what she told you."
"How would you know?"
"Because Daniel was my brother."
The air left my lungs.
Thomas pointed toward the photograph.
"And because Daniel wasn't just your mother's husband."
His eyes fixed on mine.
"He was your biological father."
I couldn't speak.
Thomas's next words were quieter.
May you like
"Which is why the people who created Emma chose you."
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