Chapter 3 - Opening the Door to Horror
The police cruiser pulled up to the driveway fifteen minutes later. By that time, my mother’s angry screams had completely turned into loud tears. In front of the officers, she insisted that Kristin had a secret phone, a hidden lover, and a bad habit of making up stories to separate me from my family.
The officers searched our primary bedroom thoroughly. They quickly verified the presence of her wallet, her medical documents, and all of her personal belongings left behind. After that, they walked out to the backyard to inspect the storage shed.
Underneath the patio sink, a single pink sandal appeared, caked in thick mud and featuring a broken strap. I had bought that exact pair for Kristin because it had a strong non-slip sole, and it looked as though it had been ripped off while someone was being dragged across the dirt.
The senior police officer turned to my mother and asked for the key to the cellar.
“I do not have the key with me,” Georgia replied hastily. “The woman who conducted the spiritual cleansing took it, and breaking that lock will unleash very dangerous energies into this home.”
When the younger officer raised the heavy bolt cutters, my mother sat down directly in front of the door, kicking violently and accusing me of wanting to kill the woman who gave me life. The officers had to physically pull her away so the work could continue.
The heavy brass padlock snapped and fell to the muddy ground with a loud thud.
When the heavy wooden door swung open, a terrible smell of dampness, urine, and dried blood instantly wafted out into the cool air. Kristin was huddled tightly among dusty cardboard boxes, her light blue dress completely covered in filth. Her hands were raw and bloody, her lips were split open, and a dark stain was spreading beneath her body on the cold floor.
I immediately dropped to my knees beside her.
“My love, please open your eyes, I am right here with you.”
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Her skin felt ice-cold to the touch, and she was barely breathing.
On the dusty floor lay a single hard tortilla, an empty glass, and a small plastic bucket. That was all my mother and brother had left for her during those three agonizing days.
