Chapter 9 - The Locksmith and the New Deadbolts
At 3:00 PM, Dr. Evans walked into the waiting room, still wearing his blue scrubs. He looked tired, but his face carried a warm, relieved smile.
“She’s out of surgery, Sarah,” he said, sitting in the chair beside me. “We were able to remove the mass entirely. The ovary was compromised, but we saved it. She is going to make a full recovery.”
I collapsed into his arms, weeping tears of pure, overwhelming relief. My baby was safe. The monster hadn't won.
After spending two hours in the recovery room watching Lily sleep peacefully, her color finally returning to her cheeks, I drove back to our house.
I didn't go inside. I stood on the porch, waiting for the locksmith I had hired to arrive.
Within twenty minutes, a heavy-duty van pulled into the driveway. The locksmith, a quiet man named Thomas, got to work immediately, replacing every lock and deadbolt on the front, back, and garage doors.
“I want the strongest high-security deadbolts you have, Thomas,” I said, my voice firm.
May you like
“You got it, ma'am,” he said, not asking any questions.
While he worked, I walked out to the driveway and took David’s key ring, which I had taken from his desk the night before, and threw it into the deep, muddy storm drain at the corner of the street. He was never stepping foot in this house again.
