Locked Door

There is a tree outside my window that was planted before I was born. It stretches up-towards the sky, branches spread wide, mid-yawn. A breeze pushing through the leaves is the only reminder that there is an outside. Even in summer only an autumn’s evening glaze reaches my room. My mum doesn’t like me to have the light on, unless it’s actually dark outside. My door remains closed. I want to open it, but I can’t. It’s jammed in the frame somehow. Warped. I tried pulling it and nothing happened. I’ve nearly bent the door handle off.

It doesn’t matter that I can’t get out. Someone will find me sooner or later. Mum or Dad will return from work and let me out. They always do. I could open the window, and scream for help. But no one  would listen. The tree muffles the scream of summer joy coming from children playing outside.

I should be at work today, but I’m not. They won’t mind. I called in sick, expecting some kind of questioning and got nothing. A one word answer and that was the end of it. A forgotten thought that doesn’t continue after the click. I can do everything I need to in this room. I can walk and exercise. Scraps of food will keep me going for a couple of days at least. Always a bottle of water left next to the computer.

The internet is down. Dad probably turned the plug off last night. He often does that. I can turn the computer on, but there is nothing to do. I could carry on writing a story, but no one reads it. I could play a game but I only have a couple and don’t feel like it.

I wish the sun would come into the room and perform its day long dance, slowly winding along the floor like a snake watching its prey. I would be able to tell something is moving then. That time isn’t just standing still. Frozen like a man watching a car crash.

I press the button on the remote but the red light doesn’t blink on the TV. Batteries may be dead. I don’t know. What’s the point though. Aerial TV disappeared a long time ago and I don’t have anything else to watch. I could watch static for a while, at least something would be moving. I can’t move from the bed to click the big button though.

I fetch my phone from the bed side table. The screen lights up the whole room, sucking away the darkness. My eyes transfixed. Slowly everything outside of the phone fades into complete blackness. I can’t see anything other than the screen. No new texts, no missed calls. I ran out of data so no internet for me. At least I can tell time is moving. I open the clock app and watch as the fake second hand moves around. 1 – 60. Then the fake minute hand moves once. I watch this a few times. The rest of the world has gone. The joy from outside is gone. The pale sunlight faded and it’s only eleven in the morning.

The door clicks open, I hear it but I don’t look up. I don’t move from the bed. My eyes glued to the empty screen of rotating illusion.

About ashleymanningwriter

Young Adult Fiction writer. Horror and fantasy blended together.
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