Page 3 — The Heartbreaking Truth In The Back Bedroom
The bedroom was dim.
The curtains were drawn. The fan was off. The air was heavy.
And on the bed was a woman—still, unmoving—positioned like she’d tried to protect something.
Not a struggle scene.
Not chaos.
Just the kind of stillness that tells you the fight ended a long time ago.
On the nightstand was a glass of water, untouched.
Beside it: a prescription bottle, empty.
On the floor next to the bed: a small pile of kids’ drawings. Crayon hearts. Stick figures. A crooked “I love you” written in shaky letters.
Officer Hayes swallowed. “Where’s the suspect?”
They searched again. Closet. Bathroom. Backyard. No adult male present.
Then they found the detail that made the story snap into place like a trap closing.
A chair shoved up against the back door.
Not for privacy.
For barricading.
Captain Laura Medina arrived minutes later. Twenty years on the job, and her face didn’t change easily.
She walked into that bedroom, saw the woman on the bed, and looked down at the nightstand.
There was an envelope.
Addressed in careful handwriting:
“To whoever finds us.”
She opened it with gloved hands. She read silently at first.
Then her eyes reddened.
She sat down hard on the edge of the hallway floor like her legs stopped working.
One officer asked quietly, “Captain?”
Medina’s voice came out raw.
“This mother… she wasn’t protecting them from a man inside the house.”
She looked up, devastated.
“She was protecting them from the man outside.”
Keep reading—because the letter explained what Evan meant by “he’s coming”… and why the bruises weren’t just abuse. They were survival 👇
