He turns the doorknob and nudges the door open. The light is out, and the room is pitch black. Which is strange, because there’s a window and I know there’s a full moon tonight—I had admired it from the bedroom window. I step inside, squinting into the shadows of the room.
“Andy.” I swallow a lump in my throat. “Can you turn the light on?”
“Of course, sweetheart.”
He pulls on the cord for the lights, and the room lights up. But it’s not normal light. The light coming from overhead is almost blinding. It’s super bright, like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. I let go of Andy’s hand and clasp my own hands over my eyes to block it out.
And then I hear the sound of the door slamming shut.
“Andy!” I call out. “Andy!”
My eyes have adjusted to the super bright light just barely enough to be able to make out the contents of the room if I squint. And… it’s just as I remember it. The dingy cot in the corner of the room. The closet with the bucket. The mini fridge that had contained three tiny bottles of water.
“Andy?” I croak.
“I’m out here, Nina.” His voice is muffled.
“Where?” I grasp around blindly, still squinting. “Where did you go?”
My fingers make contact with the cold metal of the doorknob. I twist it to the right and…
No. No. It can’t be.
Am I having another breakdown? Is this all in my head? It can’t be. It feels so real.
“Nina.” Andy’s voice again. “Can you hear me?”
I shield my eyes with my hand. “It’s so bright in here. Why is it so bright?”
“Turn out the light.”
I grasp around until I find the cord for the lights, then I give it a good tug. I feel a surge of relief as I’m plunged back into blackness. It lasts for about two seconds, until I realize I’m completely blind in here.
“Your eyes will adjust a bit,” he says. “But it won’t help much. I boarded up the window last week and put in new lights. If you turn off the light, the world will be pitch black. Turn it on and… well, those ultra-bright lightbulbs are pretty intense, huh?”
I close my eyes and see nothing but blackness. I open them, and it’s exactly the same. No difference. My breathing quickens.
“Light is a privilege, Nina,” he says. “My mother has noticed before that you failed to turn off the lights. Did you know in other countries, there are people who don’t even have electricity? And what do you do? You waste it.”
I press my palm against the door. “This is really happening, isn’t it?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re a crazy, sick asshole.”
Andy laughs on the other side of the door. “Maybe. But you were the one who was in a loony bin for trying to kill yourself and your daughter. The police saw you doing it. You admitted to having done it. And by the time they came here to check things out, this room looked exactly like a storage closet.”
“It was real,” I gasp. “It was real the whole time. You…”
“I wanted you to know what you’re dealing with.” His tone is amused. He finds this entertaining. “I wanted you to know what would happen if you tried to get away.”
“I understand.” I clear my throat. “I swear to you, I won’t leave. Just let me out of here.”
“Not yet. First you have to be disciplined for wasting electricity.”
The sound of those words brings back an overwhelming feeling of déjà vu. I feel like I’m going to throw up. I sink to my knees.
“So here’s how it’s going to work, Nina,” he says. “Because I am such a nice guy, I’m giving you two choices. You can have the lightbulb or you can have blackness. It’s entirely up to you.”
“Andy, please…”
“Good night, Nina. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
“Please! Andy, don’t do this!”
Tears spring to my eyes as his footsteps fade away. Shouting won’t make a difference. I know it because this exact same thing happened to me one year ago. He locked me in here the same way he has today.
And somehow I’ve let him do it again.
I imagine things unfolding the same way as last time. Emerging from this room, weak and groggy. Him making it seem like I was trying to hurt myself, or worse, hurt Cecelia. Everyone will be so quick to believe his story after the last time. I imagine being wrenched away from my daughter again. I just got her back. I can’t let that happen. I can’t.