Page 43 of Hearts Etched in Glass
Peering through the window, I find the same flower pattern that had been there since my childhood. Furrowing my brow, I look back at Meryll, who has left my room and shut the door. I rush over to the door, my heart pounding within my chest.
As I reach for the door handle, I am met with resistance.
She’s fucking locked me in.
This has to be a mistake.
I pull on the handle, but I feel something barring the other side.
Panic swells inside my soul.
No. No, no, no!
Meryll’s voice creeps through the door. “It’s for your own good miss.” Then I hear the click of her heels recede down the hallway, as I’m locked within the prison of my childhood room.
My eyes go wide as I clutch my arms across my chest, letting out a scream.
The defiance I had begun to nurture and grow throughout the years of leaving this establishment crumbles, as I am turned back into the pathetic child I had been.
Locked in her room.
Locked in her thoughts.
A glass cage.
I fall to the ground and dig my nails into my face.
Letting out the wail of a banshee.
I hope my mother can hear me.
Though I know she will feel no remorse.
I hope my scream will wake the fucking dead.
I’ve wrecked my childhood room without a care in the world.
Curtains ripped from their posts.
The canopy bed ripped to shreds.
I find she has stockpiled my dresser drawers with pink clothing, all a size smaller than what I currently am.
They’ve removed any and all items that I could utilize to harm myself or another.
No scissors, no make-up brushes.
Nothing to write with.
I’ve even tried dismantling the bed posts, but they must have a large iron rod on the inside for nothing I do loosens the damn thing.
I thought of taking it off and throwing it through the window so I could just jump to my death, foreven if I break the window there is nothing long enough to safely get me to the ground level since this fucking room is nearly three stories high. Though it is only a two-story house these damned high ceilings create an obstacle I cannot defeat.
My stomach begins to grumble under my abdomen.
I stand from the floor, glancing around at the mess I’ve created.
Marcus and Bobby would be proud.
