my mom glued to the couch , I had free roam of the neighborhood . She didn ’ t notice when I left our yard to visit Ricky , or when I climbed the chain link fence in our backyard , crossing over into the Exeter Graveyard . The thought of ghosts didn ’ t scare me as much — I had real monsters to contend with .
Dinners were always tense . He got home from the hospital each evening and cooked us dinner while my mom nursed a beer or a funny-smelling iced tea on the couch . Our kitchen was tiny , and the round table was pushed against the wall . The back chair , my chair , was squashed between the table and the wall . I felt cornered enough sitting at a table directly across from him , but the wall at my back only added to the anxiety . I picked onions and peppers out of my eggs , my macaroni , and my rice , while he pounded on the table and thundered eat it . I tried one bite , and the audible crunch as I bit made me gag . I spit the food back on the plate , and only when he grabbed my arm and wrenched me from my seat did I realize exactly how poor of a choice I had made . I wrestled myself out of his grasp and thundered up the stairs , shutting the door behind me and locking it . I leaned against it , terrified that he would break it open .
He tried the doorknob once , then shoulder checked the door . The teardrop amethyst he wore in his left ear fell to the floor . I heard him sigh as blood thundered in my ears and my body quaked .
“ You want to be in your room ? Fine . Stay in your room . Stay all fucking night !” Something rattled the doorknob , and I braced myself against it , terrified . His footsteps retreated . I listened to the crick , creak , crick of his feet on the stairs , heard his chair against the linoleum as he reseated himself at the table . Only when I heard the scraping of forks on plates did I unlock the door and try to pull it open .
It didn ’ t open . I pulled , and the door came toward me a quarter inch before springing shut again . My heart , finally calm , picked up speed again — what had he done ? I twisted the handle and pulled , tensing my muscles to hold the door open a crack and see what kept pulling it shut .
The linen closet door was next to my bedroom door in the hall , so close that if it was open , I would walk right into it . The closet was locked , and , hooked on the door handle was a bungee cord . The bright green-and-purple cord was wrapped once around the doorknob , and the length of the cord , pulled taut , stretched to my door . It reverberated each time I pulled .
I slowly let the door fall shut , then laid on the floor at the foot of my door . I pressed my face against the floor so I could stare out of the crack beneath the
8