My Family Blocked Me on Moving Day

"Hailey, the relatives are all waiting for us at the new house for dinner, so we're leaving the cleanup here to you."

My stepmother, Paula, stood in the doorway, her expensive crocodile-skin purse in hand, wearing a smile that was all warmth and concern.

"Don't take this the wrong way, sweetie. I only asked because you're always so efficient with chores."

"Scrape all the old grease off the kitchen, mop the floors twice, and haul out the junk we don't want."

"We'll get out of your way. Wouldn't want to keep you from getting enough rest before work tomorrow."

She sounded concerned, yet she'd dumped every last chore on me.

Connor gave the front door an impatient kick.

"Mom, why are you wasting your breath on her? Let's go already. I haven't even tried my new computer."

Before he left, Connor kicked the lock hard, forcing the external manual override bolt down until it jammed in place.

My father, Raymond Lane, stood in the stairwell, pointing at me.

"Make it quick. If this place isn't spotless, don't bother coming to dinner at the new house tonight."

"You're the older one. Act like it for once. Stop moping around and ruining the mood for the whole family."

The door slammed shut.

Then I was alone in the old apartment, surrounded by trash and dust.

Resigned, I picked up a rag and headed toward the old kitchen with its strange smell.

The moment I got near the gas stove, a thick, acrid stench of rotten eggs hit me square in the face.

The gas alarm suddenly began to shriek.

My face went white, and I immediately reached for the main gas valve.

But the valve's threading had already been wrecked by force. The valve had come off entirely, and high-pressure gas was gushing out through the opening.

The toxic gas spread quickly through the cramped apartment.

I covered my mouth and nose and stumbled toward the front door.

I pressed down hard on the handle. The door didn't budge.

I twisted the manual override knob inside with everything I had, but the smart panel only flashed a harsh red warning: "Mechanical failure. Security lockout engaged."

Breathing grew harder and harder. My throat burned, and tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

I staggered to the window, only to find its latch jammed just as tight. It wouldn't open no matter what I did.

My vision was going dark in waves. I pulled out my phone and, with shaking fingers, dialed Dad.

It rang a long time before anyone picked up.

The line was filled with the deafening blasts of confetti cannons and relatives laughing as they flattered him.

"Dad, help me..."

My voice was raw. Every word felt like it was tearing my chest apart.

"The gas is leaking everywhere in the old apartment. The lock's broken, and I can't get out. Please, send help..."

For a beat, the other end went quiet.

Then Paula's snide voice came through, loud and clear.

"Raymond, just listen to her."

"The moment Connor moves into the new house, she has to pull something like this. Does she hate us that much, or is she just trying to make your day miserable?"

"Funny how the lock works every other day, but breaks the moment we're celebrating Connor's move, isn't it?"

Raymond scoffed, impatience thick in his voice.

"Hailey Lane, you're twenty-four. Stop pulling these stunts for attention!"

"If the lock's broken, call a locksmith yourself. Quit pretending you're dying just to scare everyone."

I collapsed to my knees at the door, pounding on the metal with all my strength.

"No, Dad. The alarm won't stop. I really can't breathe. Please, I'm begging you, call 911..."

"Shut up!"

Raymond roared.

"If you're going to act grown-up, then see it through instead of bothering me! Deal with it yourself, then come over. Don't spoil this for your brother!"

The line went dead.

He had hung up on me without another word.

I called again, but it went straight to voicemail.

He'd blocked my number.

The alarm's red light flashed wildly.

I clawed at the door with the last of my strength. My nails split, and blood smeared across the cold metal.

The darkness closed in. The last of the air was squeezed from my lungs.

At last, I lay limp beside the door, eyes wide, staring at the steel barrier that would never open.

My body slowly went stiff and cold.

But soon, a strange weightlessness washed over me.

I rose out of that bruised, twisted corpse.

I saw my nails, every one of them bent back and shredded, and two ghastly dark-brown streaks of blood on the carpet.

Before I could take in the horror of my own body, an invisible force seized me and dragged my soul toward the bright, festive new house.