Chapter 3

She cried on the phone.

"Do you know how hard it is for me out here alone? I'm so grateful your grandmother helps me take care of you."

"Just endure it. Once Dylan gets into college, things will get better."

But he wasn't my brother.

He was my uncle's son.

My uncle was my grandmother's youngest son, her precious baby.

And my father was the eldest son.

An unwanted eldest son who was now dead.

When I was sixteen, I found a waterproof camera in the bathroom drain.

This time, I didn't smash it.

I started secretly saving money, skimming from my lunch money — one dollar, two dollars — hiding it in the lining of my backpack.

I saved for two months.

One hundred forty dollars.

But my grandmother found the hidden compartment.

That night, she locked me in the basement.

All four walls of the basement were covered with screens.

More than a dozen screens of various sizes — some old phones, some tablets.

Every screen was playing surveillance footage.

My room, my desk, me changing clothes, me using the toilet, me hiding under my blanket crying at night...

Four years of footage, all there.

My grandmother locked the basement door.

From outside the iron door, her voice leaked through the gap.

"You were born a Carter, you'll die a Carter. Don't even think about escaping my grasp."

I stayed in that basement for three days.

Surrounded by images of myself.

Countless versions of "me" staring at me from the screens.

When I was released on the third day, I'd vomited six times.

For the next month, I dry-heaved at the sight of anything reflective.

Luke's notebook was filled with writing.

He never looked up.

"Did your mother know about all this?"

"She knew everything."

"What was her attitude?"

"When she wiped the blood off me, she'd cover my mouth so I couldn't cry out loud."

"She'd say, 'Just endure it. Once Dylan gets into college, things will get better.'"

When I was sixteen, my grandmother sent me to the store to buy eggs.

When I reached the intersection, a guy with bleached hair shoved a flyer into my hand.

"Health and wellness seminar. Free attendance, plus free eggs."

The back of the flyer had an address.

Very remote.

I held it and looked for a moment.

The guy walked toward a white van parked by the roadside.

The windows weren't tinted.

I could see the seats inside from outside.

I scanned the interior.

No cameras, no red lights.

"Where's this seminar held?"

The guy turned back with a grin.

"Get in the car and you'll see. Real close."

I knew this was probably a scam.

Those days, fraud operations were all over the TV news.

But I turned and looked back the way I'd come.

The doorless room, the basement plastered with screens, the waterproof pinhole in the bathroom... and my grandmother's voice that rang out every morning at six sharp.

"Evelyn, get up. I'm watching you."

Without hesitation, I got in the van.

From that day on, I became one of them.

Ironically, I finally had a room with a lock.

I still remember that afternoon, holding the key to the storage room, standing at the door for a long time.

Then I inserted the key and turned it.

The bolt clicked out.

I crouched on the floor, hugging my knees, and cried for a full hour.

For the first time in four years, I had a door I could lock from the inside.

Luke suddenly interrupted me.

"Is that why you stayed at the scam operation?"

I didn't answer.

I just lowered my head and looked at my fingers.

"Mr. Reynolds, do you think the people at that operation were bad?"

"Yes."

"They're bad people. But those bad people gave me a lock."

"My own grandmother wouldn't even give me a door."

Luke didn't ask anything more.

He picked up the peeled apple from the table and handed it to me.

"Evelyn, no one will ever take your door away again."

I took the apple and bit into it.

Suddenly, the door was pushed open.

Officer Foster stuck his head in halfway, his expression grim.

"The family's here."

"Causing quite a scene outside."