Chapter 2: The Voice Behind the Door
For the first hour, I cried.
For the second, I sat on my bed staring at my phone, waiting for my father to come upstairs.
He didn't.
At six thirty, I heard dishes clattering downstairs. At seven, the television came on. At seven fifteen, Vanessa laughed at something on a show as if nothing had happened.
I pressed my ear against the bedroom door.
Every ordinary sound made the situation feel more unreal.
Someone had slapped me. Someone had lied about it. My father had dragged me upstairs without asking a single question.
And now the house was carrying on as usual.
My phone vibrated.
It was a message from my best friend, Olivia Bennett.
*OLIVIA:* Are we still studying at your place tomorrow? I can bring the history notes.
I stared at the screen.
How could I explain that I wasn't sure I was allowed downstairs?
*ME:* I don't know. Something happened.
Her reply came almost immediately.
*OLIVIA:* What happened? Are you okay?
I began typing.
Then I stopped.
Vanessa had a habit of checking my phone whenever she claimed I was being secretive. If I told Olivia the truth, Vanessa might find out and accuse me of spreading lies.
I hated that I had to think that way.
*ME:* I'll explain tomorrow.
Olivia sent a heart.
I put the phone aside.
At eight, someone knocked on my door.
I jumped up so quickly that my knee struck the bed frame.
“Dad?””
No answer.
The handle rattled.
Then Vanessa spoke through the wood.
“Dinner's ready.””
I moved closer.
“Can I come downstairs?””
A pause.
“Your father says you need to think about what you've done.””
I gripped the door handle.
“I didn't do anything.””
“Still arguing, Maya?””
“Please tell Dad I want to talk to him.””
Vanessa sighed dramatically.
“He's very disappointed in you.””
“Can I at least eat?””
“You can have something when you've calmed down.””
Her heels clicked away.
I stood behind the door, listening until the sound disappeared.
Then I heard her voice drifting up the stairs.
“Marcus, sweetheart, you really should eat something. You've barely touched your food.””
Dad answered too quietly for me to make out the words.
Vanessa spoke again.
“I know she's your daughter, but you can't let her disrespect me like that.””
I pressed my forehead against the door.
“I never asked you to choose between us,” I whispered, though neither of them could hear me.
Downstairs, Dad said something I couldn't understand.
Vanessa's response came clearly.
“You promised me we'd have a fresh start when we got married.””
There it was again.
The phrase she used whenever Dad hesitated to take her side.
A fresh start.
As though my mother's death had been an inconvenience she had generously agreed to overlook.
I backed away from the door and sat on the edge of my bed.
A few minutes later, I heard Dad's footsteps on the stairs.
He stopped outside my room.
My heart jumped.
“Dad?””
Silence.
“Please. Can we talk?””
The footsteps remained still for several seconds.
Then he spoke.
“Your stepmother is very upset, Maya.””
I stared at the door.
“So am I.””
“You need to apologize.””
“For what?””
“For putting your hands on her.””
“I didn't!””
His voice hardened.
“Do you understand how serious this is?””
“Yes,” I whispered.
“That's why I'm telling you the truth.””
He didn't answer.
“Dad, look at my cheek. She hit me. You can see it.””
A long silence followed.
Then he said something I would remember for years.
“Vanessa says you have always resented her because you want your mother back.””
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“Of course I want Mom back.””
The words came out smaller than I intended.
“I miss her every day.””
For a moment, I thought I heard Dad inhale sharply.
Then Vanessa called from downstairs.
“Marcus? Can you help me with something, please?””
His shoes shifted.
“I'll talk to you tomorrow,” he said.
“Dad—”
He walked away.
I waited until I heard the bedroom door downstairs close.
Then I sat beside my bed and cried until my throat hurt.
At nine, my phone battery dropped to twelve percent.
At nine fifteen, I tried calling Dad's office line from memory, but the call went straight to voicemail. I hung up before the beep.
What would I say?
Hello, this is your daughter. The woman you married is lying to you, and you don't believe me.
I almost laughed.
Instead, I plugged in my phone and opened the small wooden box on my nightstand.
Inside were a few things Mom had left me: a silver bracelet, two handwritten birthday cards, and a folded piece of paper with a recipe for cinnamon pancakes.
The paper was worn along the edges.
I unfolded it carefully.
At the bottom, in Mom's handwriting, were the words:
When the world feels unfair, tell the truth anyway. You don't have to shout for it to matter.
I traced the letters with my thumb.
“I tried, Mom,” I whispered.
“I really tried.””
A sound came from the hallway.
I quickly folded the paper and slipped it into the box.
Someone was walking upstairs.
But the footsteps didn't approach my door.
They stopped near the landing.
I heard Vanessa speaking on the phone.
Her voice had changed.
The sobbing, trembling tone she used with Dad was gone. In its place was a low, impatient voice I barely recognized.
“Yes, she's locked in her room,” Vanessa said.
I froze.
A pause.
“No, Marcus believes me. Of course he does.””
My skin prickled.
She laughed softly.
“Please. He'd rather believe his precious wife than admit his daughter has been telling him the truth about me.””
I moved closer to the door.
The hallway floor creaked beneath my bare foot.
Vanessa stopped laughing.
“Hold on,” she said into the phone.
I backed away.
Her heels clicked toward my bedroom.
I scrambled onto the bed and pretended to be looking at my phone.
A shadow appeared beneath the door.
“Maya?””
I didn't answer.
“Are you awake?””
I kept still.
The handle turned.
The locked door held.
Vanessa knocked twice.
“Don't make this harder than it needs to be.””
I stared at the handle.
“Go away,” I whispered.
Her voice sharpened.
“What was that?””
“Please leave me alone.””
She laughed.
“Oh, sweetheart. You have no idea how much trouble you've caused yourself.””
I stood up.
“You hit yourself. I saw you.””
For a moment, there was silence.
Then she spoke so quietly that I almost missed it.
“And who do you think anyone will believe?””
I couldn't answer.
She leaned closer to the door.
“Your father has spent the last two years watching you treat me like an outsider. He was waiting for a reason to put his foot down.””
“That isn't true.””
“Isn't it?””
I heard the smile in her voice.
“You should have learned to keep your mouth shut.””
Then she walked away.
I remained beside the door, shaking.
Her words hurt because they contained a piece of the truth. Dad had been tired of our arguments. Vanessa had spent years turning ordinary disagreements into evidence that I hated her.
She had built a story around me.
And whenever I tried to escape it, she added another chapter.
At ten, I heard the front door open.
Dad was leaving.
I ran to my bedroom door and struck it with my palm.
“Dad?””
Footsteps paused downstairs.
“Dad, where are you going?””
He didn't answer.
I heard the door close.
A car engine started.
Then he was gone.
I sank onto the carpet.
He had left me locked in my bedroom while Vanessa remained downstairs with the keys.
I didn't know how long I sat there.
Eventually, the house grew quiet.
The television went off. Water ran through the pipes. A door closed downstairs.
I began to hope that Vanessa had gone to bed.
Then her phone rang.
I heard her cross the living room, followed by the soft click of the kitchen door.
She answered in a whisper.
“Finally.””
A man's voice murmured on the other end, too faint for me to understand.
Vanessa laughed.
“Don't worry about Maya. She's exactly where I want her.””
I stopped breathing.
The man's voice grew louder for a moment.
Then Vanessa said the words that changed everything.
“Marcus will never find out what happened to the money. He's too busy defending his precious little daughter to notice what I've been doing.””
I slowly rose from the floor.
Money?
What money?
She continued speaking.
“And once the papers are signed, we can finally stop pretending this marriage is worth saving.””
A chill moved through me.
I pressed my ear against the door, trying to hear more.
Then the floorboard beneath me creaked.
The conversation stopped.
“Who's there?”” Vanessa demanded.
I stepped back.
A door opened downstairs.
Footsteps moved toward the staircase.
My heart hammered.
May you like
She was coming up.
And this time, I had no idea whether she intended to threaten me, punish me, or discover how much I had heard.
