Because I understood something terrifying:
Whatever they buried… they meant to keep hidden forever.
By morning, sunlight made everything look innocent again.
Birds chirped. The garden looked normal.
Daniel drank coffee. Carol smiled sweetly across the table.
Lily barely touched her cereal.
“Bad dreams?” Daniel asked casually.
Lily flinched at his voice.
Carol chuckled. “She has quite the imagination.”
I forced a smile.
Inside, I was shaking.
When Daniel left for work and Carol went upstairs, I turned to Lily.
“Put your shoes on,” I whispered.
Her eyes widened. “Are we going to look?”
“Yes.”
We slipped outside through the side gate.
The dirt patch was exactly where I remembered it — disguised, but not perfectly.
I grabbed a small shovel from the shed and started digging.
Every scoop felt louder than it should.
After a few minutes, I hit fabric.
The duffel bag.
My hands trembled as I pulled it up just enough to reach the zipper.
I hesitated.
Then I opened it.
The smell hit first — sharp and chemical.
Inside were clothes. A cracked phone. A wallet.
And a hospital wristband.
With a name I recognized.
A woman from our neighborhood who had “moved away” suddenly last month.
My heart pounded in my ears.