Chapter 4

On the fourth day, the sound of rain seeped in through the walls. At first, it was only a steady dripping. Later, it became the continuous sound of running water.

The bottom of the box started to feel cold. I reached down and felt muddy water.

The basement was flooding!

I immediately pressed the button on the walkie-talkie. "Mom, water's getting in. There's water coming into the box!"

The walkie-talkie crackled with static. It was noisy on Mom's end. Ezra was screaming.

Mom was busy soothing him. "Be good, Ezra. Don't be scared of the rain. Mommy's here. I'll hold you."

I raised my voice. "Mom, please check the basement! The water's already coming in!"

She finally answered me, "Evelyn, can you stop making trouble at a time like this? Ezra is scared of the thunder."

I looked down at the water rising over the soles of my shoes. "I'm not making trouble. Mom, it's really flooding."

She laughed coldly. "Yesterday, you said you had a fever. The day before that, you said you were bleeding. Today, you're saying it's flooding. Are you going to tell me you're dead tomorrow?"

I stared blankly at the walkie-talkie in my hand.

Ezra's crying drew closer. He seemed to have grabbed the walkie-talkie and cried out indistinctly, "Ev… Evie… Wa… ter..."

Mom immediately took the walkie-talkie back. "Ezra, don't copy her. Evelyn did something wrong. She has to be punished."

Ezra cried even harder. "O-Open…"

It was one of the rare times he had pronounced a word clearly.

I pressed my face against the walkie-talkie. "Ezra, don't cry. I'm fine."

Mom suddenly raised her voice. "How dare you still talk to him? You've already done this to him, and now you want him to feel sorry for you?"

The walkie-talkie was slammed against something. Then, the speaker was turned off. All I could hear was the faint hiss of static.

The water quickly rose above my ankles. I tried to stand, but the box was too low, so I could only crouch. My clothes had stuck to the wounds on my back, and every movement tore them open again.

I rammed my shoulder into the lid.

Once. Twice. Thrice.

The iron box didn't budge.

When the water reached my calves, I heard footsteps outside the lid.

I cried out in delight, "Dad!"

The footsteps stopped outside.

Alas, it was Grandma. She rarely involved herself in family matters. The only person she doted on was Ezra.

She asked through the lid, "Evelyn, have you admitted you were wrong yet?"

I hurriedly said, "Grandma, water's getting into the box. Please get Dad for me. Please."

Grandma sighed. "You headstrong child… Why are you as stubborn as your mother? Ezra's been refusing to eat anything ever since he was found. Your mother nearly cried her eyes out. Just give in a little, and the whole family can put this behind us."

I clutched at the crack in the lid. "Grandma, I'm going to die."

She was silent for a moment. "Don't say such preposterous things. Your mother knows what she's doing."

I listened to her footsteps fade away, my hand slowly sliding down the lid.

The water rose to my knees. It was freezing.

I lifted the family photo and tucked it deep inside my clothes. I couldn't let it get wet. It was the last thing I could take with me.

Late that night, the water rose to my waist. I held down the talk button on the walkie-talkie, but there was barely any strength left in my fingers.

I said, "Mom, I confess. Please let me out."

There was no response from the other end.

I spoke again, "I did it on purpose. I was jealous of Ezra. I'm bad."

Finally, the walkie-talkie crackled to life.

Mom's voice was very soft. "It's too late to admit it now."

I froze.

She said, "I'll let you out tomorrow morning. Remember how scared you feel tonight. That way, you'll truly learn your lesson."

I looked at the water that had already risen to my chest and opened my mouth. "Mom, I won't make it until tomorrow."

The walkie-talkie went silent again.

Suddenly, I heard her singing. "Sleep, sleep, my darling baby."

It was the song she sang to lull Ezra to sleep. It was also my favorite song when I was little.

When the water rose past my neck, I stopped calling out. I simply used my broken, upturned fingernail to slowly carve words into the metal.

"Ezra, don't be afraid."

When the water rose over my head, I instinctively struggled. My feet kicked against the metal, and my knees slammed into it until they went numb.

I opened my mouth, and muddy water rushed in. A foul, metallic smell filled my nose.

I pressed the button on the walkie-talkie one last time, yet no one answered on the other end.

I heard my heartbeat getting slower and slower.

Then, all the pain stopped.

I stood inside the steel box and saw myself curled up beneath the water. My hair floated around me, and I was still clutching the family photo in my hand.

I reached out to pull myself up, but my hand passed straight through my own arm.

I didn't cry. I just felt very tired.

Outside the steel box, the rain was still falling. I passed through the lid and saw the basement clearly for the first time.

The water was waist-deep, and several cardboard boxes floated on the surface. Dad's old toolbox had tipped over, and the keys were hanging on the wall.

It turned out that the keys had been close to me all along. It was just that no one had been willing to pick them up.

Upstairs, Mom sat by the bed with Ezra in her arms.

Ezra wasn't asleep. He stared fixedly in the direction of the basement, repeating the same phrase over and over.

"Evie… Water.

"Evie… Water."

Driven to the breaking point by his repetition, Mom covered his mouth. "Stop saying that!"

Ezra screamed and scratched the back of her hand until it bled. Mom gasped from the pain. She raised her hand, then stopped in midair. In the end, she pulled him tightly into her arms again.

"Ezra, you're all Mommy has left. Evelyn is bad. She wants to take Mommy away from you."

Ezra shook his head hard. "Evie red. Evie block."

Mom froze. "What did you say?"

Growing frantic, Ezra hit his own head. "Evie block. Knife."

Mom's face fell.

Just as she was about to question him further, Dad rushed in, shouting, "The basement drainage pump is broken! The water's backing up!"

Mom shot to her feet. "The box!"