Six months ago, on our video calls, she had been herself, tired perhaps, a little vague, but herself.

And here was my sister, wearing our mother’s jewelry, calling her a burden to the paying tenants, and admitting, casually, to a stranger at the door, that she was keeping our mother sedated in the basement of the house I had bought to keep her safe.

Chapter 4 — The Basement

The basement door was beside the kitchen.

Valerie led the way down, chattering about square footage and rental terms as though this were an ordinary showing, and I followed her, and I did not take off my shoes, and I did not say a word, because I did not trust myself to.

I will not describe in detail what I found at the bottom of those stairs, because some things should not be dwelt upon, and what had been done to my mother is one of them.