Chapter 1: What I Saw Through the Fence
“That bald woman shouldn’t even let herself be seen, while we have actual company over!”
I heard my brother Vincent shouting before I’d even managed to reach the front door.
Out in the backyard, Celeste knelt on the ground, gathering pieces of a shattered plate with her own bare hands. Her head sat completely shaved. Her cheekbones looked hollow, sunken deep. A bucket of dirty water sat beside her bare feet.
“Pick those pieces up properly, Celeste,” my mother, Yvonne, called out from the living room. “If somebody cuts themselves on that glass, I’m taking it straight out of your food ration.”
I stopped dead behind the fence, suitcase still gripped tight in my hand. Nobody knew I was actually home yet.
A sudden shutdown at the metalworking shop out in Ashcroft had given us several unexpected weeks off work. My coworkers had all gone to visit their own families. I’d bought a plane ticket that very same night instead, purely because I wanted to surprise my wife.
For four straight years, I’d worked brutal twelve-hour shifts, eaten reheated meals inside a shop that permanently smelled of burnt metal, and endured winters harsh enough to crack my own lips raw. Every single month, I’d sent somewhere between two and three thousand dollars directly into Yvonne’s own bank account.
That money was supposed to finish building the house, secure our shared future, and take proper care of Celeste while I was away. Altogether, I’d sent nearly a hundred thousand dollars total, plus an additional bonus every single December.
I’d never once questioned any of it. I trusted my own mother completely. I trusted Vincent too. Most of all, I genuinely believed my wife was safe the entire time.
