Chapter 2

Beads of blood welled up from the scratch, and I quickly wiped them away on my dress.

As the hem had already soaked up some of the chemical primer, the fabric glued to my leg in a cold, sticky mess.

I forced myself up and reached for the doorknob.

It turned just a fraction of an inch before grinding to a halt.

It was caught by the heavy deadbolt on the other side.

I stood on my tiptoes, wrapping both hands around the metal lever and pulling with all my weight.

It didn't budge.

Against the wall sat an old box of wooden building blocks.

They used to be mine when I was little.

They were all thrown in here by Mom when she was clearing out the playroom.

I began stacking them one by one, creating a fragile little tower.

Balancing precariously on top, I stretched my arms up to reach the small, rectangular window embedded in the door.

But the glass was sealed off.

A thick, white protective film from the factory was still taped tightly over it.

I clawed at the edge of the tape with my fingernails. I had barely peeled back a sliver when the blocks shifted beneath me.

The tower collapsed.

My knees slammed hard into the bare floor.

The agony made me gasp, but I didn't let a sound escape.

Whenever Leo cried, Mom would instantly rush over and gather him into her arms.

But when I cried, her forehead would crease in frustration.

"You're the big sister, Nova," she would say. "Stop competing with a baby."

I wasn't trying to compete. I just wanted to get out.

The air inside the walk-in closet was growing stiflingly hot and heavy.

The ventilation fan hung loosely on the wall, its bare wires exposed and unattached.

The blades were completely still. I pressed my face flat against the narrow gap at the bottom of the door.

There was a tiny, faint draft there.

It carried the familiar scents of the outer hallway, mixed with the floral laundry detergent Mom always used on our clothes.

Suddenly, the elevator down the hall chimed.

Ding.

Furious, echoing footsteps rushed toward our unit. A key scraped into the front door lock.

I scrambled to my feet, completely forgetting the burning pain in my knees. "Mom! I'm in here!"

The front door burst open, and Dad’s frantic voice cut through the apartment first.

"Hurry! Leo’s inhaler and his spare jacket are in the hall closet!"

I slammed both palms against the heavy wood of the door, pounding as hard as my small arms could manage.

"Dad! Mom! I'm in here!"

The rushing footsteps outside paused for a split second.

Mom's strained voice drifted through the thick door panel. "What was that sound?"

I hammered even faster, my palms stinging. "Mom, please! I'm locked in here!"

But the closet door was solid core and heavily insulated.

By the time my voice squeezed through the cracks, it was nothing more than a faint, raspy whisper.

Dad hesitated in the living room.

"Was that Nova?"

I nodded violently, my forehead cracking against the hard wood.

"It's me, Dad! Open the door!"

Mom’s footsteps advanced two paces toward the closet.

I lay flat on the floor, sliding my fingertips through the bottom gap, trying desperately to touch the sliver of light coming from the hallway.

But the next second, she stopped dead.

Through the open front door, Leo let out a weak, agonizing wail from the building corridor.

Mom whirled around instantly. "Forget about her! Find the inhaler first! Leo’s starting to wheeze again!"

Dad didn't take another step toward me.

Closet doors were violently yanked open, drawers slammed and rattled in a chaotic frenzy.

I threw my shoulder against the door but the heavy frame didn't even vibrate.

"I didn't try to hurt him!" I cried out, coughing so hard my small body bent in half.

A bitter, chemical taste coated the back of my throat.

The white primer had completely seeped under the cardboard boxes.

The cardboard was bloated, saturated with the fluid and the corners were beginning to cave in.

Outside, Mom was still tearing through the living room, her voice dripping with resentment.

"I never should have spoiled her like this, letting her think she rules the house.

“When it was just her, we let her have everything. Now that she has a brother, she just can't handle it."

Dad’s voice was lower, hesitant.

"She’s still just a kid. Maybe... maybe she really didn't mean to do it."

"She poured out his emergency medicine!" Mom snapped back fiercely. "Leo's face was turning blue! And you're still defending her?"

The living room went dead silent for a few agonizing seconds.

A plastic bag crinkled sharply. Dad didn't say another word in my defense.

Desperate, I grabbed one of the fallen wooden blocks from the floor and began beating it against the door.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The noise was much louder this time.

Mom finally walked over, her footsteps stopping right outside. But she didn't unlock the door.

"Stop throwing a tantrum," she said, her voice cutting through the wood like shards of ice.

"If you're truly sorry for what you did, you'll sit there quietly and think about it."

I pressed my cheek flat against the door, begging, "Mom, listen to me... that medicine smelled wrong. It had a horrible chemical smell."

"Medicine always smells bad," she cut me off coldly.

"You used to complain it was bitter and stunk every time you had to take it. Don't use your cheap lies to trick me."