No, I can’t do it. I can’t.
I shove all three books off me. My shoulders heave as I suck in air. He can’t expect me to keep all three books balanced on me for hours. Can he?
I get back on my feet and immediately start pacing the room. I don’t know what game Andrew is playing here, but I’m not going to do this. He’s going to let me out of here. Or else I’m going to find a way out myself. There must be a way out of this room. This isn’t prison.
Maybe there’s a way I can unscrew the door hinges. Or the screws on the doorknob. Andrew has a tool kit downstairs stashed in the garage, and I would give anything to get my hands on that right now. But I’ve got lots of stuff in my dresser drawers. Maybe there’s something I can use as a makeshift screwdriver.
“Millie?”
It’s Andrew’s voice again. I abandon my search for tools and rush over to the door. “I put the books on top of me. Please let me out.”
“I told you three hours. You only did it for about a minute.”
I have had enough of this shit. “Let. Me. Out. Now.”
“Or else what?” He laughs. “I told you what you need to do.”
“I’m not doing it.”
“Fine. Then you can stay locked in there.”
I shake my head. “So you’ll let me die in here?”
“You’re not going to die. When the water runs out, you’ll realize what you have to do.”
This time I can barely hear his footsteps retreating over the sound of my own screams.
I have had the three books on my abdomen for two hours and fifty minutes.
Andrew was right. After the third water bottle had been drained, my desperation to leave the room heightened considerably. When fantasies of waterfalls started dancing before my eyes, I knew I had to complete the task he wanted. Of course, there’s no guarantee he’ll let me out if I do it, but I hope he will.
The books are really, really uncomfortable. I’m not going to lie. There are moments when I feel like I can’t stand it another second, that the weight is going to literally crush my pelvis, but then I take a breath—best I can with these stupid books on top of me—and I hang in there. It’s almost over.
And when I get out of here…
At the three-hour mark, I shove the books off of my belly. It’s a massive relief, but when I try to sit up, my abdomen aches badly enough to bring tears to my eyes. There are going to be bruises left behind. Still, I push forward and pound on the door. “I did it!” I yell. “I’m done! Let me out of here!”
But of course, he doesn’t come. He might be able to see me, but I have no idea where he is. Is he in the house? At work? He could be anywhere. He knows where I am, but I don’t have the same privilege.
That bastard.
It’s an hour later when I hear footsteps outside my door. I want to cry with relief. I’ve never been claustrophobic before, but this experience has changed me. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to ride in elevators after this.
“Millie?”
“I did it, you asshole,” I spit at the door. “Now let me out.”
“Hmm.” His lackadaisical tone makes me want to wrap my fingers around his neck and squeeze. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“But you promised! You said if I kept the books on my belly for three hours, you would let me out.”
“Right. But here’s the thing. You pushed them off a minute too early. So I’m afraid you’ll have to start over.”
My eyes fly open. If there were a moment when I would morph into the Incredible Hulk and rip the door right off by the hinges, that would be this moment. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I’m so sorry. But these are the rules.”
“But…” I sputter. “I don’t have any water left.”
“That’s a shame,” he sighs. “Next time, you’ll have to learn to conserve your water.”
“Next time?” I kick the door. “Are you out of your mind? There’s not going to be a next time.”
“Actually, I think there will be,” he says thoughtfully. “You’re on parole, right? If you were to take something from our house—and I’m sure Nina would back me up on that—where do you think you would end up? One offense and you’re right back in jail! Whereas you only have to stay in this room for a day or two every once in a while if you misbehave. I think this is a much better deal, don’t you?”