Chapter 7: The Child Buried in the Backyard
“I buried him myself.””
Denise's words seemed to drain the air from the kitchen.
Marcus stared at her.
“What child?””
She didn't answer immediately.
Jordan stood frozen beside the counter, his eyes moving between his parents.
“Mom,” he whispered.
“What are you talking about?””
Denise closed her fingers around the brass key.
“The night of the fire, there were three children in this house.””
Jordan shook his head.
“No. There were two.””
Denise looked at him.
“There were two children you knew about.””
Marcus stepped forward.
“Denise, explain yourself.””
She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.
“Before we had Maya, I was pregnant once. I lost the baby at seven months.””
Marcus frowned.
“I know that.””
“No. You know what I told you.””
“What are you saying?””
Denise looked toward the staircase.
“The baby was born alive.””
Marcus stopped breathing.
Jordan stared at his mother.
“Mom?””
Denise continued.
“He lived for three days. His name was Samuel.””
Marcus slowly lowered himself into a chair.
He remembered the pregnancy.
He remembered the hospital.
He remembered Denise coming home without a baby.
But he also remembered the doctors telling them there had been complications.
He had never questioned it.
Not after seeing how devastated his wife had been.
“Why didn't you tell me?”” Marcus whispered.
Denise shook her head.
“I thought you knew.””
“Knew what?””
“That he survived.””
Marcus looked at her.
“Denise, I never held that child.””
Her face crumpled.
“You did.””
The wall clock began ticking again.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Denise looked at the clock.
Then she spoke.
“Three days after Samuel was born, I woke up in the hospital and found you sitting beside his crib. You were holding him.””
Marcus shook his head.
“I wasn't there.””
“You were.””
“I was working that night.””
“I know what I saw!””
Her voice echoed through the kitchen.
Jordan stepped between them.
“Mom, please.””
Denise took a breath.
“The nurses told me Samuel had died. But I could still hear him crying. Every night, I heard him. Then one morning, I woke up and he was gone.””
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
“What does this have to do with the fire?””
Denise looked toward the upstairs hallway.
“Everything.””
She explained that after the hospital, strange things began happening around their apartment.
Baby monitors turned on by themselves.
The bedroom door opened during the night.
Sometimes, Denise heard a child laughing in the hallway.
At first, she believed grief was making her imagine things.
Then, six years ago, on the night of the fire, she heard Samuel's voice again.
It came from the master bedroom.
He was crying.
Calling her Mommy.
She went upstairs to find him.
But the room was empty.
Except for a small wooden crib she had never seen before.
Inside it lay a baby wrapped in a white blanket.
Denise's eyes filled.
“I picked him up.””
Marcus stared.
“You picked up what?””
“My son.””
The lights flickered.
A soft infant cry drifted down from upstairs.
Denise looked toward the ceiling.
“He was cold. I held him against my chest. I told him I was sorry.””
Jordan whispered, “Mom, stop.””
But she continued.
“Then I heard the fire alarm. I ran downstairs with him. Marcus, you were standing by the front door. You were holding Jordan.””
Marcus shook his head.
“I remember carrying Jordan outside.””
Denise nodded.
“You did.””
“Then what?””
“I asked where Maya was.””
Marcus looked at her.
“And?””
“You told me she was upstairs.””
Marcus slowly stood.
“I went back for her.””
Denise shook her head.
“No. You went back for Samuel.””
The kitchen fell silent.
Marcus looked down at his hands.
Suddenly, he remembered something.
A small blanket.
A tiny hand.
A voice whispering from the smoke.
Daddy, don't leave me.
He stumbled backward.
“Where is he?””
Denise looked at the brass key.
“Under the tree.””
Jordan frowned.
“What tree?””
“The old oak in the backyard.””
Marcus looked at her.
“You buried a child in our backyard?””
Denise shook her head.
“I buried what came back.””
A loud bang sounded upstairs.
Then a little boy laughed.
The sound was cheerful.
Almost playful.
Jordan began crying.
“Mom, I want to leave.””
Denise pulled him close.
“I know, sweetheart.””
Marcus reached for the brass key.
“Show me the room.””
Denise hesitated.
“Marcus, once we open it, there's no going back.””
“We've already gone too far.””
She finally placed the key in his palm.
They moved toward the staircase together.
Every step felt heavier than the last.
The upstairs hallway was darker than before.
Maya's bedroom door stood open.
The master bedroom door was closed.
And at the far end of the hallway was another door.
A narrow wooden door painted white.
Marcus had lived in the house for six years.
He had never seen it.
“Where does that go?”” Jordan whispered.
Denise raised the key.
“The room where Samuel was supposed to sleep.””
Marcus stared.
“You told me this house didn't have another bedroom.””
“I know.””
The key turned with a dry metallic click.
The door opened.
A smell of old dust and baby powder drifted out.
Inside was a small nursery.
A white crib stood against the wall.
A rocking chair sat beside the window.
A yellow blanket lay folded neatly on a wooden dresser.
And above the crib hung a framed photograph.
Marcus stepped closer.
The photograph showed him and Denise standing in a hospital room.
Between them was a newborn baby.
Marcus touched the glass.
His throat tightened.
“I remember this.””
Denise nodded.
“You were happy.””
Then Jordan noticed something on the dresser.
A small wooden box.
He opened it.
Inside were three hospital bracelets.
One read:
*SAMUEL REED.*
The second read:
*JORDAN REED.*
The third read:
*MAYA REED.*
Jordan frowned.
“Why are our names here?””
Denise moved closer.
“Because the night of the fire, all three children were supposed to be together.””
Marcus turned.
“What does that mean?””
Denise looked at the crib.
“I thought I was bringing Samuel back.””
A soft creak sounded behind them.
The nursery door slowly closed.
Marcus rushed toward it.
But it slammed before he reached it.
Jordan grabbed the handle.
“It's locked!””
Denise turned toward the crib.
Something was moving beneath the yellow blanket.
A tiny hand emerged.
Then another.
The blanket rose slowly.
A baby's face appeared.
But the face didn't belong to an infant.
It was the face of a little boy.
Around six years old.
His eyes were dark.
His smile was wide.
And when he spoke, his voice sounded like Jordan's.
“Mommy?””
Denise covered her mouth.
“Samuel?””
The boy sat up.
“You took so long.””
Marcus stepped forward.
“Stay away from him.””
The child looked at Marcus.
“Daddy?””
Marcus froze.
The boy smiled.
“Why did you bury me?””
Denise began sobbing.
“I didn't know what you were.””
The child tilted his head.
“You promised.””
The nursery light flickered.
A second voice came from behind the crib.
A little girl's voice.
“Mommy, don't let him touch you.””
Denise turned.
At the nursery window stood Maya.
The real Maya.
She was crying, pressing both hands against the glass.
“Mommy!””
Jordan rushed toward her.
“Maya!””
But before he could reach the window, the little boy grabbed Denise's wrist.
His fingers looked impossibly long.
“She's not yours anymore,” he whispered.
Marcus pulled Denise backward.
The boy's smile disappeared.
For the first time, his expression looked angry.
“You always choose them.””
Then he looked directly at Marcus.
“You chose them last time, too.””
The floor shook.
A crack appeared in the nursery wall.
Behind the plaster was something dark and wet.
Marcus recognized the smell.
Smoke.
The nursery was beginning to burn.
Jordan screamed.
“Dad!””
Marcus grabbed the children and rushed toward the door.
Denise stumbled behind him.
But the little boy remained inside the crib.
Watching.
Smiling.
Just before the room disappeared behind the closing door, he whispered:
“Ask your wife which child she buried.””
May you like
The door slammed.
And from inside the locked nursery came the sound of a baby crying.
