The smell hit me first.
Not the smell of something rotten.
Something older.
Damp concrete. Dust. Air that hadn’t moved in years.
I instinctively pulled the girls behind me.
“Stay upstairs,” I said quickly.
But Grace shook her head.
“No, Mommy likes when we visit.”
My stomach twisted.
The basement stairs creaked beneath my feet as I slowly descended into darkness.
A single lamp glowed faintly in the corner.
And then I saw it.
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