While my husband was not at home, my father-in-law told me to take a hammer and break the tile behind the toilet: behind the tile, I saw a hole, and in that hole, something horrifying was hidden 
I was standing in the kitchen, washing dishes. My son was playing at the neighbors’ house, and my husband had gone out on errands. It seemed like an ordinary evening. But at that moment, I felt someone standing behind me. I turned around — it was my father-in-law. His face was tense, his gaze sharp and watchful.
“We need to talk,” he whispered so quietly I could barely hear him over the sound of the water.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, worried, drying my hands on a towel.
