Nobody spoke while the footage played and the only sound inside the underground room came from the old equipment humming around us.
The screen flickered occasionally but the image remained clear enough.
Clear enough to hurt.
Six year old me stood in the hallway. Small and quiet, watching something off camera. Watching someone and then I disappeared from view.
The recording continued and another camera angle appeared and then another and another.
My stomach twisted because this wasn’t a single recording. It was surveillance. Hours of it. Days of it. Maybe even years.
Casey slowly sat down in front of the equipment.
“Oh my god.” Casey said.
The next clip appeared as I sat at a kitchen table and another showed me playing in the backyard and another showed me sleeping. Sleeping.
