Page 51 of Buried in the Woods Below

I hear her footsteps, and I brace myself. I grab the handle and yank backward as hard as I can. She tugs from the other side.

The doorknob rattles violently.

Then…

Silence.

A soft click. She’s locked it.

“Fine. You wanna play in the closet? Go ahead. Play in the closet.”

Her footsteps vanish down the hall.

“Beth?” I whisper.

No answer.

“Beth?” My voice shakes.

I turn the knob. Nothing. It won’t budge.

I pound on the door. “Beth! Please! I’m sorry! You can watch your stupid show!”

The air thickens. My breath shortens. The closet shrinks around me.

The odor of dust and old shoes invades my nostrils. Clothes press against my face. A scarf slips loose and lands across my eyes, trapping me in velvet darkness. I swat it away, but it clings like static. I can’t breathe.

My arms flail, knocking coat hangers and winter jackets. A scream claws its way up my throat, and I let it rip.

“Beth, please! Let me out!”

Still nothing.

I cry hard now, panicked, snot running down my face, throat raw. Dropping the remote, I curl into a ball and shake.

Then I hear footsteps. The click of the lock.

The door swings open.

Beth stands there with an Oreo halfway to her mouth, her lips curled into a smirk. She’s vibrating with triumph. She doesn’t say a word. Just pulls the door wide.

I tumble out and collapse on the floor, sobbing, gasping for breath, the air hitting my lungs like winter.

She stands above me. “The remote.”

I point into the closet, still hiccuping. “I dropped it…”

She sighs and steps inside, bending to look.

That’s when something takes over. A spark in my chest that burns through my body, taking over my movements.

My hand grabs the doorknob and slams it shut behind her.

My fingers turn the lock. I watch from outside myself, in disbelief at what I’ve done.

The pounding starts immediately. “Very funny. Now let me out,” she yells.

“No!” I shout in a deep voice, not my own. “Now it’s your turn.”