My husband, Mark, had been working late a lot recently. I didn’t think much of it; he’s a dedicated guy and always puts in the extra hours when needed. To cheer myself up one evening, I decided to bake a batch of my famous chocolate chip cookies. Mark’s mom, Sharon, absolutely loves them, so I thought I’d surprise her with a little visit. I packed up the cookies, grabbed my keys, and headed over to their place, a cozy little house a few towns over. Usually, Frank, Mark’s dad, is always there to greet me with a booming hello and a bear hug. Sharon is always eager to chat and catch up on all the latest family news. But this time, things felt different from the moment I pulled into the driveway. The house was unusually quiet, and the curtains were drawn. I rang the doorbell, but no one answered. I tried again, still nothing. I figured they might be in the backyard, but as I walked around the side of the house, I saw that the back door was locked, and the yard was empty. I sent Frank a quick text: “Hey, just dropped by with some cookies! Are you guys around?” He replied almost immediately: “I’m out with the guys. Sharon’s resting. You can head home.” Something felt off. Sharon *never* just rests when she knows we’re supposed to visit. She always makes a fuss and insists on tea and catching up.
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As I was about to leave, I heard a faint, rhythmic tapping sound coming from somewhere inside the house. It was subtle, almost like someone gently knocking on a wall. Curiosity piqued, I tried to pinpoint the location of the sound. It seemed to be coming from upstairs. Specifically, from the direction of the attic. The attic was always a bit of a mystery in their house. Frank always kept it locked, claiming it was his “private space” where he kept old family heirlooms and other things he didn’t want disturbed. I’d never questioned it, but now, with Sharon supposedly resting and that strange tapping sound, my instincts told me something was very wrong. I went back to the front door and tried the handle. To my surprise, it was unlocked.
I quietly let myself in, my heart pounding in my chest. The house was eerily silent, the only sound being the faint tapping from above. I crept towards the staircase and slowly made my way up, each creak of the stairs amplifying the tension. As I reached the top, I saw the attic door. It was slightly ajar. And in the lock was the key, which Frank *never* leaves in the door. My heart was racing. I hesitated for a moment, my mind flooded with possibilities, none of them good. I knew I shouldn’t pry, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible was happening. Taking a deep breath, I reached out and slowly pushed the door open.
I just… froze. The attic was dusty and dimly lit, filled with old furniture covered in white sheets and boxes stacked haphazardly. And in the middle of the room, sitting in an old, worn-out chair, was Sharon. She looked pale and disoriented, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and embarrassment. The tapping sound, I realized, was coming from her foot, which she was nervously tapping against the floor. “Sharon??” I gasped, rushing towards her. “What’s going on?? Why are you up here?” She looked at me with a pleading expression, as if begging me to understand.
I rushed over to help her stand up, noticing how frail and unsteady she seemed. Her hand trembled as I helped her out of the chair. That’s when she whispered, her voice barely audible, [“He locked me in here”]. My blood ran cold. [“Locked you in here?”], I repeated, my voice trembling with disbelief. “Frank locked you in the attic? Why?” Sharon’s eyes filled with tears. “He… he doesn’t want me to bother him when his friends are over,” she whispered. [“He says I’m too loud and embarrassing”].
I was absolutely horrified. How could Frank do this to his own wife? I helped Sharon out of the attic and led her downstairs, my mind reeling. I knew I had to get her out of this situation, away from Frank. We gathered a few of her things, and I took her back to my place. Now, Mark is furious at his father, and Sharon is living with us indefinitely. I’m just glad I brought the cookies and followed that tapping sound. Who knows how long she would have been up there?
