- 14.
The room was small, windowless, lightless.
When the door closed, it was absolute
darkness.
It was designed for me. I was terrified of this
room. For as long as I could remember,
misbehavior resulted in two punishments: the
cane, or the room. The room was reserved for
occasions when I had social engagements.
But it was far more terrifying than the cane. It
was a deep–seated, primal fear.
The moment the door clicked shut, the all-
encompassing darkness swallowed me whole.
I trembled, cold sweat slicking my skin. I collapsed, gasping for breath, the suffocating
blackness pressing down on me. I didn’t
scream. No one in this house would open the
door.
Only once, when I was seventeen, had
someone opened that door. Seth, staying with
us while he underwent treatment, had heard
my cries and found the outside lock. I’d
opened my tear–filled eyes and seen him
silhouetted against the light.
Chelsea, he’d whispered, want to run away
with me?
I’d said yes.
He hated the treatments; I hated the rules. It
was a perfect match. But halfway through our
escape, he’d collapsed.
<
He never walked again. My father said Seth’s
death was the price of my rebellion.
He said my only friend died because of my
selfishness.
After that, I never resisted. It was a form of
penance. I became the perfect daughter,
following their prescribed path. Everyone
thought I was gentle, accomplished. No one
knew I was trapped in the spring of my
seventeenth year, Seth lying in a hospital bed,
blood bubbling from his lips, his breath
rattling, the mole on his neck rising and
falling with each agonizing gasp.
I’d never forgiven myself.
Until Julian. He was a disruption.
<
Now, barely able to breathe, I caught the
scent of camellias on my wrist. A moment of
clarity. I fumbled for my phone, dialing with trembling fingers.
The line connected instantly.
My senses were fading, only a faint, rapid
breathing remained.
Chelsea, Julian’s voice was urgent, where are
you?
I couldn’t answer.
I heard the sound of wind through the phone.
I lost track of time and space.
Then, the door I couldn’t open was kicked in.
<
Julian stood silhouetted against the light.
He must have come quickly. By the time he
carried me out of the Thornton house, my
senses were returning. A doctor trailed behind
us, the grounds swarming with security.
20
I tugged at his sleeve, my voice quiet. “Julian,
go back.”
He stopped abruptly, his dark eyes filled with
a terrifying mix of rage and concern. But he
didn’t hesitate. He turned back, carrying me
into the living room. I stumbled, dizzy and
nauseous.
My family was there. My father, the architect
of my discipline. My mother, who always
looked away. The staff, powerless to
intervene. I grabbed the cane and swung it at
the antique wall, sending shards of glass
flying.
Once wasn’t enough. I swung again, and again.
I don’t know how many times I hit it. When I finally stopped, the floor was littered with debris. The cane clattered to the ground, broken in pieces.
They all recoiled, staring at me as if I’d gone mad. Even my father was speechless. He’d been wrong. I shouldn’t have run away with Seth. I should have smashed this place to pieces back then.
My voice was hoarse. “Screw being your perfect little princess,” I said.
<
- 15.
