Chapter 4 - The First Transmission
The bright screen of the phone illuminated the dark, silent bedroom.
My heart hammered violently against my ribs, terrified that Garrett would suddenly walk back in.
I opened the messaging app and found a single, unsent draft waiting for me.
"I am here. Mom and Dad are waiting. We love you."
A fresh wave of tears blurred my vision as I read the words over and over again.
Garrett had convinced me that my family had abandoned me, that they were tired of my constant drama.
He had systematically blocked their numbers, intercepted their letters, and moved us to a gated fortress.
I quickly typed my first message in two years, my broken arm screaming in protest as I shifted my weight.
"I am alive," I typed, my thumb hovering over the send button.
"He broke my arm because I refused to go to a dinner."
"I am scared for the baby, Noah."
I hit send and immediately hid the phone beneath the thick mattress of our California king bed.
Less than thirty seconds later, the phone buzzed softly against the wooden bed frame.
I retrieved it with trembling fingers.
"Do exactly what he says for now," Noah replied.
"Do not fight back, do not argue, and do not give him a reason to suspect anything."
"I am meeting with a lawyer tomorrow morning."
May you like
"We are coming for you, El."
For the first time in twenty-four months, a genuine spark of hope ignited in my shattered soul.
