Chapter 2 - The Storage Room Cage
The impact sent me spiraling across the room,
my shoulder hitting the doorframe before I collapsed onto the carpet.
I tasted the warm,
metallic tang of blood in my mouth,
my lip splitting against my teeth.
I looked up through the haze of pain,
hoping to see a shred of regret in his eyes.
Instead,
I saw only cold,
calculated fury.
"I told you to be quiet,"
he hissed,
looming over me like a shadow.
From the hallway,
the sound of soft silk rustling announced the arrival of Harriet.
My mother-in-law stood there in her expensive robe,
watching the scene with the detached interest of a theater critic.
"She’s making a scene, Gavin,"
Harriet noted,
her voice smooth and poisonous.
"We can’t have the neighbors hearing this nonsense."
"Lock her in the storage room,"
she ordered,
not even glancing at my bleeding face.
"Let her calm down in the dark,"
"away from the investors and the priest."
"She can mourn her mother once the contracts are signed."
Gavin grabbed my arm,
dragging me across the floor as if I were a piece of discarded luggage.
I fought him,
scratching at his hands,
kicking at the walls,
but he was twice my size and fueled by a cruel adrenaline.
He threw me into the small,
cramped storage room beneath the stairs.
It smelled of dust,
old cardboard,
and the dampness of the building's foundation.
"Stay there and think about your attitude,"
Gavin growled.
He slammed the heavy wooden door shut.
I heard the ancient iron latch slide into place,
locking me inside the darkness.
"Gavin, please!"
I screamed,
pounding my fists against the wood.
"Let me go to her!"
"Shut up, Samantha,"
his voice came from the other side,
muffled but clear.
"Wash your hands, son,"
Harriet’s voice added,
drifting away toward the kitchen.
"Don't bring that family’s bad luck onto yourself."
"The poor always have such dramatic deaths,"
"it’s quite exhausting for people like us."
I sat on the cold concrete floor,
surrounded by the ghosts of our stored belongings.
I thought of my mother,
Loretta,
who had worked three jobs to put me through school.
She had always told me to be a good wife,
to be patient,
to endure.
As I sat in the pitch-black silence,
I realized that my patience had been a slow-acting poison.
It had allowed these vultures to pick at my soul until there was nothing left.
My grief transformed in that darkness,
shifting from a sorrowful puddle into a hard,
burning diamond of rage.
They weren't just stopping me from grieving;
May you like
they were trying to erase my humanity.
I wouldn't let them.
