Page 18 of Quiet Rage
“Let me out! I don’t know what this is supposed to be, but I won’t tell anybody,” I shout with my mouth close to the door so they can hear me if they’re standing out there. They probably are, too. For all I know, they are recording my screams to listen to and laugh at later. To hell with my pride. “I swear, I won’t! Nobody will know. Just please, let me out now!”
Nothing. That’s what I get in return.
Pressing my ear to the door, I close my eyes and listen hard for anything. Giggling, snorting, footsteps.
They can’t.
They wouldn’t.
Dropping to my knees, I lower my head until my ear almost touches the floor, so I can peer out through the inch or so of space between the door and the cold, dirty floor. From here, the hallway looks empty. I don’t hear any footsteps out there. No echoes of voices. Just silence.
“Help me!” Who am I talking to? There’s nobody to hear. It seems like everybody rushed out, the way I was trying to.
The cold, hard truth is in front of me. I can’t escape it no matter how my brain tries. Nobody knows I’m here.
Panic even more intense than what was already tearing through me forces me to my feet, so I can try the handle again andagain. So I can throw myself against the door until my shoulder screams almost as loudly as I do.
I have to get out. I have to. I’ll die here if I don’t.
It’s only Friday afternoon—I can’t wait until Monday!
I’ll never make it. I’m already freezing, shaking, choking on my sobs while the strength leaves my body.
“Please,” I whimper, touching my forehead to the door, tears flowing down my cheeks. What did I do to deserve this? What have I ever done?
It’s dark, so dark. My eyes are starting to adjust, though, thanks partly to that gap between floor and door. I can barely make out a wheeled bucket, shelves of supplies. Sliding my hands along the wall helps me find a light switch, which I gratefully flip. Nothing.
A choked sob tears its way from my scratchy, sore throat, but I keep flipping the switch up and down anyway, like that will do anything. For all I know, they took the lightbulb out to make sure I wouldn’t have even an overhead light to help me cling to sanity.
“Why?”
The last of my strength leaves me all at once, and I slide down the door until I’m on the floor, shivering, with nothing to keep me warm but the arms I wrap around my knees.
I can barely breathe. Each breath I manage to pull in is shakier than the one before, panic threatening to sink its claws in deep.
I could die here. Don’t they understand that? I could die, cold and hungry and thirsty. All alone, with nobody to know or even care. And they’ll go on with their lives, and it won’t be long untilI’m forgotten. Just another casualty, chewed up and spat out by a bunch of soulless people.
I would tell myself not to let it break me down, to fight, to find a way… But I don’t think there is a way, and if there was, I don’t think I’m strong enough anymore to hold on.
What is there to hold onto?
There’s no hope left. Not while I’m shaking with cold and wishing harder than I ever have that I had never been born.
When my eyes start to close, I let them. Sleep has to be better than the torture of being awake. Maybe I’ll get lucky and die in my sleep.
But who am I kidding? I’ve never been lucky a day in my life. Why would I start now?
Chapter 9
Kellen
Fuck.
My eyes are burning by the time I give up trying to sleep Saturday morning, after spending probably the longest and most useless night ever. Usually, I would sleep in today, leaving my alarm off and only getting out of bed when my bladder gives me no other choice. Kind of hard to do that when you barely slept in the first place.
It’s all her fucking fault.
Mission accomplished. Janitor closet next to the science lab.
