I was ten years old when my grandmother took me to an orthopedic clinic with a small padlock attached to my back brace. She told the doctor it was necessary so I wouldn’t take it off. At first, he said nothing. Then he asked for a cable cutter, unlocked the brace, and examined the marks it had left on my skin. When he finally turned to my father, he asked one question that changed everything.

The old hunting cabin sat entirely isolated at the end of a muddy, unpaved road.

Thick pine trees surrounded the wooden structure, blocking out almost all the sunlight.

Grandma parked the car and forced me out by gripping the back of my coat.

"Get inside and do not touch anything," she ordered as she unlocked the rusty front door.

The inside of the cabin smelled like damp wood and old ashes from the fireplace.

There was one main living area, a tiny kitchen, and a single bedroom with a heavy wooden door.

Grandma immediately dragged me into the bedroom and pointed to a cot in the corner.

"You will stay in here until you learn how to behave and respect your elders," she said.

She pulled the heavy combination padlock from her pocket and tossed it onto the mattress.

"Put your back brace on, Lily," she commanded, pulling the plastic medical device from her bag.

I shook my head, tears forming in the corners of my eyes.

"The doctor said I don't need it all the time, it hurts me," I pleaded.

Grandma slapped my face, the sharp sting echoing loudly in the small room.

"You will do exactly as I say, or I will call the police and tell them your father tried to contact us," she threatened.

Knowing it would ruin his case, I slowly strapped the painful plastic shell around my torso.

She threaded the steel cable through the loops and secured the new combination lock tightly against my spine.

The familiar, suffocating pressure returned instantly, making it hard to draw a full breath.

She walked out of the room and slammed the heavy wooden door shut.

I heard the distinct click of a deadbolt locking from the outside.

I was entirely trapped in the woods, locked in a room, and locked inside my own clothes.

Hours passed, and the sun completely set, plunging the bedroom into total darkness.

I desperately searched the room for anything I could use to break the window.

Under the cot, my fingers brushed against a dusty, rectangular object.

I pulled it out and realized it was an old, battery-operated radio transceiver.

Dad used to use these to listen to weather broadcasts when he hunted up here years ago.

I flipped the switch, and miraculously, a faint static hiss filled the room.

I pressed the broadcast button and whispered into the microphone, praying someone was on the frequency.

"Help, my name is Lily Miller, I am locked in the cabin at Pine Lake," I repeated over and over.

Suddenly, the static cleared, and a deep, static-filled voice responded.

When my newborn 'passed away,' my mother-in-law leaned in and said

My Husband Left Me Alone in My Car While I Was in Labor

“You’re Dead When We Get Home,” He Snapped

"Lily, this is Dr. Mercer, I have been scanning the emergency frequencies looking for you."

Before I could reply, the bedroom door swung wide open, revealing my grandmother holding a kitchen knife.

Chapter 5 - The Cabin in the Woods