Chapter 4 - The House of Glass
The next morning, the winter sun broke through the gray clouds, casting a blinding, deceptive white glare across the city. David insisted on discharging himself against medical advice—a stubborn display of sheer paternal willpower that ended with him wearing a heavy wool coat over his hospital gown and leaning heavily against me as we walked into the pediatric recovery ward.
Maisie was awake, sitting up against a pile of pillows, nibbling listlessly on a piece of toast. When she saw us walk through the door, her big, dark eyes—so like her father's—welled up with tears.
"Mommy," she whispered, her voice still raspy from the cold. "Did we do something wrong?"
My heart shattered into a million jagged pieces. I rushed to the side of the bed, wrapping my arms around her narrow shoulders and burying my face in her hair, which still smelled faintly of melting snow and woodsmoke.
"Oh, my sweet, brave girl," I sobbed quietly, pressing kiss after kiss to her temple. "You didn't do anything wrong. None of this was your fault. Not a single second of it."
"Grandma looked right at me," Maisie whispered into my shoulder, the memory finally breaking through the shock. "I knocked three times. Ruby was crying because her feet hurt. The light was on in the hallway. The curtain moved, Mommy. I saw Grandma’s face behind the glass. But she just... she turned around and walked away."
Hearing those words spoken out loud by an eight-year-old child felt like pouring boiling acid over an open wound. Behind me, I heard a sharp, intake of breath. I turned to look at David. His face had gone completely gray, his jaw working as he tried to swallow the rage threatening to choke him.
"She saw you?" David asked, his voice trembling with a terrifying, suppressed fury.
Maisie nodded slowly, clutching the edge of the hospital blanket. "She looked right through the glass. Like we were ghosts."
Ruby, waking up from her nap in the adjacent crib, began to stir and reach out her arms. "Mama? Cold. Want home."
"You're going home with us, baby," I promised, lifting Ruby out of the crib and pressing her warm, soft body against my chest. "We are never going back there. Never."
Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It wasn't Officer Hayes. It was an incoming call from an unknown, blocked number.
May you like
I stared at the screen for three long seconds before swiping the answer button and pressing it to my ear.
"Clara," my father’s voice came through the speaker, crisp, controlled, and utterly devoid of human warmth. "What is this nonsense about police officers banging on my front door at dawn? Have you lost your mind entirely?"
