The hallway felt longer than it ever had before.
Every step I took toward that locked door felt like wading through deep, freezing water.
I gently laid Tommy back down on the couch next to his sister.
I grabbed a thick blanket from the armchair and wrapped it tightly around both of them.
Lily watched me with wide, terrified eyes that begged me not to leave her side.
I kissed her forehead and promised I would only be gone for a second.
My wife, Evelyn, had always told me the room at the end of the hall was just for old winter clothes and broken furniture.
She kept the only key on her personal ring, claiming the lock was broken and dangerous for the kids to play near.
I had never questioned it because you do not interrogate the person you love.
But as I stood before the white wooden door, the paint peeling slightly at the edges, I felt sick to my stomach.
I reached out and turned the brass knob.
It was firmly locked, unyielding to my grip.
I stepped back, raised my right foot, and kicked the space right next to the lock with all the strength I had.
The wood splintered with a loud crack, echoing through the silent house.
I kicked it again, and the door flew open, hitting the inner wall with a heavy thud.
