I take it.
It’s light. Cold in my hand.
They test everything. Show me how to lock and unlock the system manually, how to review footage. The door clicks shut with a mechanical hum that feels solid. Permanent.
By the time they leave, it’s well past dark.
I stand in the middle of my room and breathe in the silence.
Safe. This room is mine again.
I walk over to the nightstand and place the pendant next to the photo of Maeve and me — upright this time. Just the way I like it.
Then I curl up on my bed and open the app. I scroll through the live feedof my own room, watching the quiet. The stillness. I watch until my eyes drift close and I fall asleep.
.
12 ASSHOLES
It’s pitch black. My ears ring from the silence. Anxiety threatens to take over. I remind myself to breathe.
Light floods the space, my eyes burn.
“Get out.” Daniel’s voice is gruff.
I scramble to get out. He grabs a fistful of my hair and throws me against the wall.
“Hurry the fuck up. You’re so slow.”
I grit my teeth against the pain as I stand. I keep my eyes trained to the floor.
“Did you hear anything?”
“No.”
He slaps me, my whole body crumpling against the wall.
“No, what?” he spits..
“No, sir.” Silent tears run down my tears.
“You pathetic, weak, excuse of life. Such a waste of space. Crying over a little slap.” He grunts, yanking my arm so hard it nearly pops out of the socket.
I’m suddenly in the living room, cheek rubbing against the carpet.
The deranged laugh track blares in my ears.
“You’ll never be anything.” His fingers dig into my hips.
I try to move but I’m tied down.
“Such a good girl for your daddy.”
I scream.
The sun barely cuts through the drawn curtains when the alarm buzzes on my phone. I groan, rolling over, the sheets twisting around my legs. My body aches like I ran a marathon in my sleep.
Even here—behind locked doors and motion sensors—I couldn’t stop it.
