Chapter 6: The Girl in the Cellar

The cellar was pitch dark. Even moonlight didn’t reach. As Justin was about to turn on his flashlight, I pulled out my phone and used the screen’s faint glow. Justin followed suit.

The stairs creaked under our feet, dust swirling in the air. The smell of earth and mildew was thick and choking.

"Flashlights are too bright. We’re in someone’s house, after all."

I whispered. Justin nodded, the blue glow from his phone casting strange shadows.

Just then, we heard rustling inside.

A soft, shuffling sound, like someone turning over in their sleep. My heart leapt into my throat, every nerve on edge.

We moved closer, and suddenly the noise grew louder—someone startled awake, sitting up.

The sound was abrupt, a gasp followed by frantic movement. I held my breath, afraid to move any closer.

The phone’s light swept across a woman with tangled hair, filthy all over. She saw us, mouth opening to scream, but Justin rushed over and covered her mouth with tissues, muffling her cries.

Her eyes were wild, darting around the room. She struggled, but Justin held firm, whispering reassurances as gently as he could.

I crouched down, putting a finger to my lips, and finally saw her face clearly.

Her features were delicate, almost ethereal beneath the grime. There was a haunted look in her eyes, a desperation that made my heart ache.

Big eyes, a high nose—though dirty, she was clearly once beautiful.

A jolt of recognition hit me. I’d seen her face before, in another world, another life.

In a flash, I remembered the missing persons flyer from Ohio State. The flyer was gone by the time I enrolled, but everyone talked about it because it featured the campus beauty, Lily Quinn. Every new student heard the story:

"See her? That’s Lily Quinn. She was gorgeous. Too bad she vanished. Her family went crazy looking for her, but she was never found."

The legend of Lily Quinn haunted the halls, her story whispered in dorm rooms late at night. I remembered staring at her photo, wondering how someone so bright could just disappear.

The photo showed Lily with her hair down, smiling radiantly. The caption read:

Lily Quinn, biology education major. GPA 3.9. Applying for a full scholarship. Excellent grades…

Her smile was luminous, full of hope and promise. It was hard to reconcile that image with the broken woman crouched before me now.

Even after years, I couldn’t forget her face. Before we came to teach, our advisor had shown us:

"This is Lily Quinn. She went to teach in the same place you’re going. She never came back. People searched, but when everyone else returned, no one wanted to keep looking."

The warning had felt distant then—a ghost story meant to scare us. Now it was painfully real, the weight of it settling on my shoulders.

I stared at her.

"Ms. Quinn?"

Her eyes widened, fear and hope warring in her expression. She nodded, tears streaming down her face.

She flinched, then blinked at me, trying to please.

Her lips trembled, as if she wanted to speak but had forgotten how. I reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair from her face.

Justin realized too, circling to look at her, voice shaking:

"So she didn’t just disappear on her own?"

His words were thick with disbelief, the horror of it dawning on him. I saw his hands shaking, anger simmering under the surface.

I nodded, crouched again:

"Ms. Quinn, we’ll get you out. But not yet. We have to go now, but I promise, we’ll save you."

I tried to sound reassuring, but my voice broke. She nodded, clutching my hand, hope flickering in her eyes for the first time.

She seemed to understand, tears streaming down as she nodded.

The weight of her gratitude was overwhelming. I squeezed her hand, promising myself I wouldn’t let her down.

Justin and I left the cellar, glancing back with every step.

The darkness felt heavier now, every shadow a threat. We climbed the stairs in silence, the gravity of what we’d found pressing down on us.

We were still at Katie’s house—not the place to talk.

I could hear voices from the kitchen, the clatter of dishes. We slipped out the back, hearts pounding, desperate to get away before anyone noticed.