Chapter 2

I had to get help. I couldn' t do this anymore.

His parents, John and Mary, they had to know. They had to stop him.

John was a retired police captain, Mary a former social worker. They understood right and wrong.

I called them, my voice shaking.

"Michael... he... the baby... he did it again."

Mary gasped over the phone. John' s voice was a low growl.

"We're coming over, Sarah. Don't you worry."

They arrived within the hour, faces grim.

Mary hugged me tight. "Oh, Sarah, you poor thing."

John confronted Michael directly. "What in God's name have you done, son? Another one?"

Michael didn't flinch. He just looked tired.

"Dad, Mom, you need to see something."

He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and showed it to them.

Just a photograph.

I couldn't see it from where I sat, huddled on the sofa.

But I saw their faces.

John' s outrage melted away, replaced by a look I couldn' t decipher. Resignation? Understanding?

Mary' s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide, then she nodded slowly.

"Oh," she whispered. "Oh, I see."

John cleared his throat. "Michael is right, Sarah. The children... they can't be allowed to live."

My blood ran cold.

"What? What are you saying?"

Mary came to me, her eyes now filled with a strange pity. "It's for the best, dear. You have to trust Michael."

They had switched. Just like that.

The photograph. What was in that photograph?

It was like a key, locking them into his madness, and locking me out.

This happened every time.

Anyone I turned to, anyone I begged for help.

My old college roommate, a kind neighbor, even a priest I' d once confided in.

Michael would show them the photo, and they would turn.

They would look at me with that same pity, that same horrifying agreement.

"He knows what he's doing, Sarah."

"It's a terrible burden he carries."

I was alone. Utterly alone.

Michael controlled everything, everyone, with that silent image on his phone.