Chapter 39

Latisha beat on the door until her arms gave out. She slid to the floor, defeated. The storage closet was small, cramped, and pitch black. The silence was so profound it felt like the air itself was holding its breath.

The suffocating darkness pressed in on her, wrapping around her like a thousand threads, squeezing the air from her lungs. She curled into a ball on the cold floor, hugging her knees to her chest. The only sounds were her own ragged breathing and the frantic drumming of her heart.

Clifford had told her to reflect, but she didn't know what she was supposed to be reflecting on. Was it her fault for waiting five hours alone at the restaurant? Or for taking Mrs. Dashiell home? She didn't know what she had done wrong.

She felt for her phone in her pocket, but the battery was dead.

She huddled by the door, closing her eyes and covering her ears, trying to pretend she was just in her bedroom after nightfall.

Years ago, Renata had locked her in a closet just like this for a day and a night. Rats and insects had crawled over her in the dark. For a six-year-old child, it was the ultimate terror. And the worst part was, she couldn't even scream. All she could do was scratch and pound on the door until her fingers bled, but no one had come.

Finally, it was Clifford who had opened that door and carried her out. It was the first time he had ever held her. She could still remember the warmth of that embrace, the faint scent of sunshine and mint that clung to the young boy.