Karen's grip on my arm tightened, and for a moment, I thought I wouldn't be able to pull away. But adrenaline surged through me, and I yanked myself free, stumbling back.
"Mom, this has to stop," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the terror coursing through me. "I need answers, and you can't keep me here forever."
Her face twisted with a mix of pain and fury. "Alex, you don't understand. Everything I've done—everything—has been for us. You can't throw that away."
I turned and bolted up the stairs, Karen's frantic shouts echoing behind me. My mind was in overdrive, formulating a plan. I had to leave, to get away from her and the dark secrets she was hiding. But how?
I grabbed my phone and wallet from my room, stuffing them into my pocket. I needed to act quickly. I could hear her footsteps on the stairs, her voice pleading and furious.
"Alex, stop running! We can talk about this!"
I slipped out the front door and into the night, the cool air hitting my face like a slap. My car was parked in the driveway, but as I fumbled with my keys, I realized Karen had thought ahead. The tires were slashed.
Panic set in, but I forced myself to think. I took off down the street, running as fast as my legs would carry me. My only hope was to get to the nearest neighbor's house and call for help.
I reached the neighbor's house, pounding on the door with desperation. A light flickered on inside, and an older man in a bathrobe appeared, his expression wary.
"Please," I gasped. "I need to use your phone. It's an emergency."
He hesitated, eyeing me warily, but my panic must have convinced him. He stepped aside, and I rushed inside, dialing 911 with shaking hands.
As I explained the situation to the operator, I saw movement outside the window. Karen stood in the street, her face illuminated by the pale glow of the streetlamp. She wasn't shouting anymore. She just stood there, watching.
The operator assured me that the police were on their way, but as the minutes dragged on, I felt a growing sense of dread. Karen didn't move, didn't make any attempt to follow me. It was as if she was waiting for something.
When the police finally arrived, I felt a surge of relief. I explained everything—the hidden passage, the photographs, the notebooks. But as I spoke, I could see the officers exchanging skeptical glances.
"Sir," one of them said gently, "we'll check it out, but do you have any proof of these claims?"
I realized, too late, that I had left the photographs and notebooks behind.
The officers escorted me back to the house. Karen greeted them at the door, her demeanor calm and composed.
"Officers," she said, her voice sweet and measured. "I'm so glad you're here. My son has been under so much stress lately. I've been worried about him."
I stared at her, stunned by her performance. She turned to me, her expression full of feigned concern. "Alex, honey, why don't you come inside? We can all talk this out."
One of the officers turned to me. "Let's go inside and take a look around, just to be sure."
I followed reluctantly, my heart sinking as we stepped into the house. The basement door was locked, the key nowhere in sight. Karen had cleaned everything—the photographs, the notebooks, the evidence.
"I told you," she said softly, her eyes locking with mine. "There's nothing to worry about here."
The officers left shortly after, satisfied that there was no immediate danger. But as they drove away, Karen turned to me, her mask of sweetness slipping away.
"You can't win, Alex," she said, her voice cold. "This is your home. You'll always come back to me."