The First Sacrifice

CHLOE

-

The radio crackled through static, a cheerful local voice breaking in between the storm’s hiss. “Duskhaven welcomes visitors this fall—don’t miss the trails through our historic forest, camping under the stars, and the Halloween festivities at the old manor.”

I barely registered, too busy glancing at the rearview mirror, too busy keeping my daughter alive as my grip on the wheel ached, tendons tight, nails biting my palms. In the rearview mirror, the same set of headlights clung to my bumper like a shadow I couldn't shake.

I pressed harder on the gas. The road bled slick under the tires, water hissing as I veered toward the gas station glowing like a beacon in the night. Neon flickered against the heaven’s punishmentt—red, green, blue.

 The car behind me followed and my chest locked.

Lucy stirred in the back seat, a small whimper slipping from her lips. Even half-asleep, her cheek bore the bruise I couldn't look at without choking on fury. Purple, swollen, shaped by Eric's knuckles. I wanted to scream every time I saw it.

I pulled into the station, parked under the canopy's humming fluorescent lights. My hands shook against the gearshift, but I didn't turn off the engine. Didn't dare. 

I just… waited.

The car that had been tailing me slid into a space a few rows over. A man climbed out, hood up, head bent. My heart pounded so violently my ribs ached.

I scanned the lot, at the people pumping gas. Normal thing to do at a gas station but for me, everyone looked like an informant. Teenagers loitering with their hoodies pulled over their heads looked like a pair of Eric's eyes. He had money, reach, a taste for control that never ended. 

My husband’s voice slithered in my memory: You think you can hide from me? You think you can take my daughter?

I pressed a trembling hand to my sternum.

A knock on my window cracked the air like a gunshot.

I jerked, biting down on a scream and my breath fogged the glass as I turned.

A man stood there, middle-aged, soaked in rain. His mouth moved and I lowered the window two cautious inches.

"Ma'am," The stranger said, gesturing toward my taillights. "Your right rear's out. Dangerous in this weather."

My pulse stuttered, a violent kick against my ribs. Just that. Not Eric's man. Not a message delivered with a smile that never reached the eyes. Just a stranger pointing out a bulb, a burial shroud of water dripping from his hood like tears I couldn't shed.

"Thank you," I forced out, the words scraping my throat raw.

He nodded and walked away, skyfall swallowing him back into the lot. I watched him go, paranoia clawing at my chest until he disappeared.

My phone buzzed in the cupholder. The sound ripped through my nerves like glass, sharp and sudden. I snatched it up, screen lighting my dark mini van.

Stephanie: We’re here.

The breath I had been holding escaped in a shaky rush. My thumbs flew across the screen, desperate.

I replied: Gray minivan. Third row.

Minutes crawled by like hours. Then headlights broke through the storm, cutting through the darkness like salvation. This year’s edition SUV pulled in, wipers straining against the deluge that hammered the roof like angry fists.

I killed the engine and climbed out into the cold rain. Water hit me like punishment, plastering my hair to my cheeks, seeping through my coat until I shivered from more than just fear. The storm tasted of metal and desperation.

The driver's door opened. Stephanie.

"Chloe," my stepsister called out, voice sharp with fatigue and irritation that cut through the downpour. "This better be serious. Darren and I drove twelve hours."

The same voice I remembered from when we were teenagers—hard, defensive, tired of being my punching bag. I was cruel back then, spinning rumors and picking on her for no reason other than we were step siblings and I hated that my dad remarried. 

I almost snapped back now, muscle memory and old habits dying hard. But Stephanie's gaze lingered on the fading yellow-green bruise that bloomed across my left cheek. Her mouth tightened, but she didn't say anything. She didn't have to.

We both knew what Eric was when I married him. The whispered warnings at family dinners, the way he would grip my wrist when other men looked too long at me, the cold fury that lived behind his perfect smile. Stephanie had tried to tell me once, years ago, but he offered me the world on a golden platter and I stupidly thought a slap here or there was part of the arrangement—a sacrifice for the wealth and lavish parties.

Now her eyes held no satisfaction, no I told you so. Just exhaustion and something that might have been pity.

Stephanie’s gaze shifted over my shoulder then, to Lucy drowsing in her car seat. Her expression froze on Lucy’s bruise as the lightning that split the sky. 

The storm roared around us, but for me, it was silence. Shame pressed against my throat, heavy as chains, choking me with the weight of who I had chosen to marry and what I had let happen.

“Eric did that,” Stephanie’s eyes were focused on me now and it wasn’t a question.

"I couldn’t tell you everything over the phone," I said. "He knows I love Lucy. Eric hit her to punish me. He won't stop until—" I cut myself off, shaking so hard my teeth chattered. "He'll kill us both if I don't disappear. I need you to take her."

“Chloe, I ca-”

“He doesn’t know that you live in Newbrunswick. I never talk about you or Darren.”

Stephanie flinched at the confession, but she didn’t argue. Not now.

"Eric will call the cops on us," Stephanie said, fear creeping into her voice. "What if he charges us with kidnapping?"

I shook my head, the storm streaming down my face. "He won't. He wants me." The words came out flat, certain. "Lucy is just leverage—a way to control me, to make me come back. If I'm not there to hurt, the child becomes worthless to him."

Stephanie's eyes widened, horror dawning across her features. "Jesus, Chloe."

"Eric doesn't care for her or loves Lucy," I continued, my voice breaking. "He never did. Lucy was just another possession, another way to keep me trapped. Without me there to punish..." I couldn't finish the sentence, but we both understood.

Sheets of water pounded harder, as if the sky itself was weeping for what I was about to do.

Stephanie stared at me for a long, harrowing moment, her eyes searching my face for lies she wouldn't find. Then she moved, opening the back door and reaching with hesitant fingers for the girl who had already cost me everything.

Lucy stirred, eyes fluttering open. My gut twisted as I watched her blink in confusion and Stephanie unbuckled my daughter with careful movements, her hands shaking as she lifted Lucy from her seat. 

When she settled her against her shoulder, Lucy had a piece of paper clutched between her hands and I carefully slipped it from between her fingers. She relaxed willingly, still drowsy from sleep. Rain droplets caught on her dark lashes, and I said "Cover her."

“I know. Chloe, I have two children around the same age as Lucy.” Stephanie pulled her little hoodie up over her head, shielding her from the liquid night. Her movements were careful, protective, already claiming my child as hers to guard.

My heart ached as Darren appeared around the corner of their SUV, against the downpour and Stephanie said, “Take out her car seat and put it in our vehicle."

In Stephanie’s arms, Lucy was light, breakable, as if she might vanish.

Without question, Darren  took one look at the scene—me soaked and shaking, Stephanie holding a bruised child and moved without questions. He wrestled the car seat from my minivan, rain making everything slippery, his hands fumbling with urgency.

"Are you coming with us?" Stephanie asked once we'd secured the seat in their vehicle. Darren wrestled Lucy into the car seat, each buckle locking her further away from me.

I shook my head, water streaming from my hair. "Eric has money. Eyes everywhere. If he finds me with you, he’ll come for all of us.” My voice cracked. 

Stephanie's face crumpled for just a moment before hardening into resolve. "Then what happens to you?"

Thunder cracked overhead, and I lifted my face to the storm. "I disappear. Become someone he can't find." The words tasted like a lie, but I forced them out anyway. "You need to go. Now."

Lucy stirred, soft whimpers spilling from her lips. Her lashes clumped with the storm’s tears, her mouth trembling in sleep. I leaned in, kissed her damp forehead, and the words tore out of me on a sob I couldn’t contain.

“I love you, baby. I love you so much.”

My tears streaked across Lucy’s skin. Her small fingers twitched, maybe reaching for me in her half-sleep, and it ripped me open to step back. Darren slid into the driver’s seat, murmuring that my daughter would be safe, taken care of—words that felt like knives. 

All I wanted was to tear Lucy from the car seat, clutch her to my chest, and never let her go.

Closing the car door, Stephanie pulled me into a hug before I realized what was happening. For a second I just stood there, stiff with surprise, before my body gave out and I let myself sink into it. Her coat soaked through, her arms awkward, but she gave me more comfort than I’d felt in years.

When she pulled back, I rattled off the things that mattered most: “She likes oatmeal with too much sugar. She’ll only drink milk if it’s in the yellow cup. She watches Paw Patrol until she falls asleep.” My voice cracked, breaking on the stupid, ordinary details.

Stephanie’s eyes softened. “I’ll take care of her, Chloe. I swear it.”

Lucy turned in her seat, drowsy eyes finding mine through the glass. Worry tugged at her little features, and the sound she made—half whimper, half question—nearly buckled my knees.

“I’ll call you when I can,” I whispered, even though I didn’t know if it was a promise I could keep.

Stephanie nodded once, then climbed into the SUV. Darren started the engine, headlights cutting through the drowning from above.

I stood in the storm, my chest fracturing as the taillights disappeared into the night. The mother in me wanted to chase after them, screaming, clawing at the asphalt until my fingers bled. But she was gone now, smothered under years of bad choices and bruises I had called love.

If Lucy grew up hating me, she’d be right. I failed her in every way that mattered.

All that remained in the rain wasn’t a mother, wasn’t a woman worth saving—only something hollow. Something that had already forfeited the right to be loved.

And hollow things don’t fear the dark.

Hollow things go looking for it.

-

Enter the haunted halls of The Phantom Bride.

Read on Inkitt or Ream.