Beth is huddled on the ground. Her clothes are smeared with blood and she’s groaning. I’ve never seen my brother so scared. “Ange. Help,” he says, stroking Beth’s hair.

“What happened?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “She won’t show me her face. I found her like this. Come on, baby. You have to show us. We can’t help you if you don’t show us.”

Beth sobs, her voice muffled. She tilts her face up. A shard of moonlight catches her skin. I stifle a scream. Gnarly black thread sews her lips shut. Beth moans, her eyes widening. I kneel beside her and place a hand on her shoulder.

“Oh, god,” Jackson says. “Who did this? Who?”

Beth just whimpers. She claws at her lips, trying to pry them open. “Mmm! Mmmm!”

“Careful,” I say. “Let us help you.”

“Mmmm!”

My mind reels as Beth gags and convulses. The thread is thick and course, not easily broken. “Jackson, your pocket knife.”

Jackson pulls out a Swiss Army knife. He extends the tiny scissors. “Hold still. Okay…hold still.” Tears form in his eyes. He props the scissors up, closing in on the thread. She breathes fast through her nose. I hold her head, keeping her steady.

“Please, baby,” Jackson says. “I’m trying to help you…”

She gurgles in response. He slips the blade under the first stitching. Tears flood down Beth’s cheeks. POP.

Then the next stitching…POP. Beth grumbles in pain.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Almost there,” Jackson says.

POP…POP…

“Who did this? Who would do this?” I ask.

POP…

Blood begins to trickle through Beth’s opening lips, dribbling down her chin. She trembles as Jackson maneuvers the scissors around the last stitching. POP.

“There it is. There we go,” he says.

We help her sit upright. Beth opens her mouth, copious amounts of blood drool out. She coughs hard, gagging, and lets out a wretched cry.

“Okay,” Jackson says, going into survival mode. “I’m going to get you out of here. We’re getting out of here.” He bends down and scoops Beth up like a child.

I hold the flashlight up, lighting Jackson’s path as he rushes past the dusty boxes and down the attic steps. Elliot struggles to get out of Jackson’s way. “What happened?” he says. “Beth?”

Jackson lays Beth on the ground. I rub her shaking arms as she stares at the wall. “Do you know who did this?” I ask. “Who did this to you?” Beth doesn’t answer. She barely blinks.

Jackson strips off his t-shirt and tears it down the middle. Using it as gauze, he gently stuffs it into Beth’s mouth. “Shh,” he says. “This’ll stop some of the bleeding.”

“We need to get the car and get the hell out of here,” Elliot says.

“Agreed,” Jackson says.

“Shouldn’t we look for Mrs. Green? Tell her we’re leaving?”