He waited. The silence thickened.
“Your dad . . .”
“My dad what?”
“He . . . he’s not in the ocean. His body, I mean.”
“What?”
“I mean . . . his body. It’s in there.”
His face twitched in confusion. It was like his brain was rejecting the information.
“She kept it, Daniel. The body. She never got rid of it.”
His eyes widened. “What do you mean she never got rid of it? She threw it into the ocean. It was gone.”
I shook my head, reaching for his hand. “It might be better if I go in first and—”
And what? Put the skull mask back where it belonged?
But Daniel had already turned and stepped through the opening. I followed him into the room. The air inside was thick and cold, metallic. His flashlight swept over the walls and landed on the remains.
His father’s skeleton.
His breath caught. His eyes were locked wide open.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he whispered. “This is fucking hell.” He shook his head in disgust. “Cynthia!” he shouted.
No answer.
I walked into the room behind the wooden door. Daniel followed closely, his flashlight sweeping across the strange wooden table and the weird machines.
The light hit Cynthia who was sitting on the floor, and she flinched. One hand flew up to block the light. Chains rattled at her wrists and ankles. The skull mask lay beside her on the floor. She looked more like herself now, calmer. However, blood still streaked her forehead and the side of her head, probably from where I hit her.
“Emily? Is that you?” she asked, her voice tight with pain.
“Yes,” I said.
“Help me. The monster chained me up in here during the storm. I think he wants to hurt Hudson. He says Hudson’s trying to take me from him.”
Daniel lowered the flashlight so it wouldn’t blind her. The light shifted and hit Daniel. Cynthia’s eyes widened, and her pupils dilated as if she’d seen a ghost.
“Michael?”
“No,” he answered. “It’s me.”
“D-Daniel?” she wondered, uncertain. “I—” Her mouth hung open. It was the first time I’d seen her speechless. “You look so much like your father, for a second I thought...”
Daniel walked past me and picked up the mask from the floor. His fingers ran along the curved bone.
“Is this what’s left of him?” he asked coldly. He stared at the skull with a mix of sadness and something hotter. Maybe hate.
“Yes,” Cynthia said quietly, standing up. “That’s all I have left of my Michael.”
He nodded once. “Well, say your goodbyes then, because Michael is going into the ocean today. Like he should have, all those years ago, when he destroyed all of our lives like the monster he was.”
“No!” she shouted, but Daniel didn’t care.
