Chapter 4

"You're telling me this now?"

Mom let out a sharp, mocking laugh over the line.

"Why didn't you mention this at the hospital? Now that I've punished Nova, you suddenly choose to remember?"

Sophia didn't say a word.

Mom scoffed.

"Did Nova get to you? Did she say something to you before we left? She’s been playing the victim since she was a toddler.

“Remember when she wanted to skip her ballet classes and claimed the instructor was pinching her?

“The security footage proved the teacher was just correcting her posture."

Pressed flat against the heavy wood, I slowly lowered my head.

The instructor had pinched me.

Cruelly, on the inside of my upper arm where the security cameras couldn't see.

When Mom forced me to go back and apologize to her, I pulled my sleeves down as low as they would go.

No one ever asked about it again.

"Ma'am..." Sophia’s voice was barely a whisper. "Should we maybe check on Nova first? Is she still locked in the walk-in closet?"

I slammed my palms against the door with everything I had left.

"Sophia! I'm here! Please!"

Mom’s voice instantly spiked.

"Of course she’s still in there! Where else would she be? She needs to reflect on what she did."

"But the closet was just remodeled. The chemical fumes in there are incredibly strong..."

"We pay you to take care of Leo," Mom snapped and cut her off coldly. "Not to tell me how to raise my daughter."

Through the phone speaker, Leo’s distant wails filled the silence.

Mom’s tone shifted into a frantic panic.

"Take a picture of the medicine cabinet and send it to me right now. And do not unlock that door.

“She’s just waiting for someone to get soft and let her out."

The line went dead.

The living room fell completely silent except for the sound of Sophia's heavy, uneven breathing.

She stood there for a long time.

I pressed my forehead against the hard wood, whispering frantically, "Sophia... please open the door."

Finally, her footsteps shuffled toward the closet.

She stopped right outside.

I could see the dark shadow of her shoes under the crack. She reached out and grasped the metal doorknob.

The lock clicked faintly.

I held my breath, hope surging in my chest.

But the next second, her phone chimed aggressively.

It was a voice message from Mom, loud enough to blare through the speaker.

"If you dare open that door, don't bother coming into work tomorrow.

“If Leo's diagnostic tests are delayed because of you, I swear I will ruin you."

Sophia’s hand vanished from the knob.

The shadow of her shoes retreated.

She hurried back into the kitchen, snapped a photo of the medicine cabinet and swept several plastic bottles into a bag.

Before she rushed out the front door, she paused outside the closet and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Nova. Just hold on a little longer."

I opened my mouth to scream, but as I inhaled, it felt as if a heavy cinder block was crushing my chest.

Hold on a little longer.

I felt like I had been holding on forever.

The heavy front door clicked shut.

The apartment plunged into pitch blackness. Inside the closet, the white toxic primer had finally reached the wooden blocks.

Looking down, I saw that the dirty piece of cardboard with my message was completely soaked through, dissolved by the chemicals.

The last visible letter was gone.

---

Once the front door closed, the darkness in the apartment grew heavier.

I pulled my knees tightly against my chest and slumped down against the door.

The tiny sliver of light beneath the crack was entirely gone now.

The only sound left was the steady, rhythmic ticking of the living room clock.

I wanted to sleep. But I was terrified to close my eyes.

Mom had always told me that good girls never sleep on the floor without taking a bath first, or they’d catch a cold.

My dress was stiff with chemical primer and my hands were coated in white drywall dust.

If she came home and saw me like this, she would be so angry.

The bitter, toxic taste in the back of my throat was becoming unbearable.

I opened my mouth wide to breathe, but my lungs felt completely constricted.

Using the broken stub of the pencil, I tried to write on the wall.

Wrong med—

Before I could finish the word, the graphite core shattered completely. The black dust smeared all over my fingertips.

Desperate, I pressed my blackened thumb against the door.

A dark smudge. I pressed it again. Another smudge.

By the fifth stamp, the loud, jarring ring of the telephone shattered the silence.

It was the landline on the coffee table.

It rang and rang, echoing through the empty apartment.

No one picked up.

I stared up at the door lock.

"Dad... please answer the phone."

Eventually, the ringing stopped.

But only a few seconds later, the front door lock beeped.

The electronic keypad chimed in rapid succession.

Sophia was back. She was running so fast that her shoes skidded across the hardwood floor.