Page 17 of Kept

Maybe I am losing my mind.

Last night plays through my mind on a horrible loop as I lay there, too agitated to start my morning routine.

I’ve never seen Ethan so cold. So angry.

All I want to do is leave for a little while. I’d even wear a disguise if he wanted me to. But he won’t even open up a conversation about it.

My lips press together as I finally swing myself out of bed. I’d stay here longer, wallowing in my little pity party for one, but then I’d miss the sunrise.

I stumble out of my room in a hurry, pulling impatiently at my braid as I wind it around my waist, out of my way.

It takes me a moment to glance up and see the difference in the light.

The overhead lights are on. Frowning, I cross to the wall, hitting the switch with my hand, but nothing happens. Swivelling, I look to the windows, trying to judge the timing. The colors won’t look right if the lights are switched on when the sun comes up.

My whole body locks up, the breath stolen from my lungs.

Thewindows.

My body feels heavy as I tread across the spotless floor, an iron taste in my mouth as my shaking fingers reach up to touch the steel covers. When they brush the cool metal, I recoil, a strangled scream working its way up my throat as I stagger back.

No.

He wouldn’t do that. Ethan would never do this to me. He knows how much I love the light, how I wake up each and every morning to see the color in the sunrise.

But he has.

He’s taken my light away from me.

Every window is covered with wide stainless-steel shutters, enclosing me inside a space that suddenly feels far too small for my body. My breathing gets louder as I back away, jolting when I hit the wall behind me.

It feels like the walls are closing in on me. A space that seemed just enough with wall to ceiling light now threatens to crush me with its shrinking size.

A sound I’ve never made before slips out of my mouth.

Darting to the elevator, I slap the keypad frantically, trying to guess the passcode.

But I don’t know it.

His birthday, maybe? But I don’t know that, either.

In a rush, it strikes me just how little information I truly have about the man who raised me.

And as fear seals off my ability to breathe, as my fingers dig into the shutters, yanking until bright, vibrant red dots spatter my ridiculous white dress, I finally understand what Ethan has been trying to tell me for the last twenty-three years.

“I will never leave,” I whisper.

The words grow from a whisper to a scream. I scream until my throat is on fire with desperation, until my fingers are red with my own blood as I claw at the metal, until I can’t see for the agony in my chest.

The statues watch my realization with pity in their empty gaze as I fight uselessly to get even a single glimpse of the day outside.

As I fail.

As I crawl backwards, my sobs ringing out into the lonely apartment as I curl up into a ball in the corner. A scared, lonely, useless girl.

And all the while, they stare at me, the statues.

As if I stay here long enough, maybe I’ll become a statue too.

---