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They’d sat in the dark for so long that Naomi lost track of how long it had been. It was pitch-black down here, so black that she couldn’t even see her own hand inches from her face. She couldn’t see the other girls either, though she knew they were here. The two girls that were living—and the silent girl who was always watching.
Naomi could hear the others. A soft whimper. Shuffling footsteps and the clink of metal. The chanting whisper of “I wanna go home. I wanna go home. I just want to go home.”
“Shut up! Shut up!” one whispered. “No one’s going anywhere. We’re
never leaving. Don’t you get it?”
Naomi could smell the others, too. It was an overwhelming stench that permeated the hot basement . . . or cellar . . . whatever
room this was, which seemed both stiflingly claustrophobic and mind-numbingly vast. The smell was an acrid mix of armpits that had gone way too long without antiperspirant, sweat, a used, overflowed toilet, menstrual blood—and desperation. She hadn’t known before that desperation had a smell, but it radiated off her skin in invisible waves.
Then suddenly there was the bang of a door opening and a shaft of light. It came from above, through floorboards. Naomi winced at its brightness and held up her hand again. This time to shield her eyes. She could finally see a little. One of the girls was a year or so younger than herself. She was partially illuminated by the tiny spotlight now. It showed her matted dark hair, a dirty, swollen pale cheek, and terrified brown eyes.
Naomi instantly recognized her, though she looked different down here. She was relieved to finally spot a familiar face.
Naomi opened her mouth to call out to her, but stopped short when they heard thudding footsteps over their heads and the slight groan of wood under heavy weight.
The girl started to whimper, “No, no, no, no, no,” before letting out a sob.
This time no one told her to shut up.
He’d been gone for so long, but now he was back. The Big Bad Wolf had returned home to feast on his little pigs. He was coming for one of them, and Naomi suspected it was her.
So this was how it would end. Naomi had lived most of her life as a missing girl without even realizing it. As fate would have it, she would die as a missing girl, too.
The shaft of light flickered as the thudding footsteps finally stopped. Naomi held her breath. The muscles in her body tensed as they waited. She could feel bile rising in the back of her throat.
“No, no, no, no! No! No! Nooooo!” the brown-eyed girl screamed over and over again as the trapdoor overhead was thrown open.
Copyright © 2026 by L.S. Stratton. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
