This apartment. Such good news. We don’t have to live with Grandma anymore and I can stay at the same school.
“Get in here. Don’t come out. I will come and get you.”
I climbed on top of the boxes and she closed the cheap, bi-fold closet doors.
I could imagine the apartment.
Dark as my closet.
My bed was made. My room was neat.
I knew they were sitting in the darkness.
Smoking.
I could imagine the glow of the cigarette in the dark…
Glass shattered.
“I know that bitch is in there.”
“I’m gonna kill her.”
Pounding on the apartment door.
Screaming.
Banging.
Probably some kicking.
Silence.
The police arrive.
I think.
The guy who moved in, turns out, he’s still married, but both of them can walk to the office from here.
They’re pretty sure she doesn’t know mom has an 11 year-old.
That’s why I’m in the closet. So I’m safe.
Today I’m linking with Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop. Prompt #5.
