You’re locked in a room with your greatest fear. Describe what’s in the room.
The bedroom door is locked. The only room in the house that actually has a locking door and one small window over the bed. I don’t see me and my 7-year-old daughter escaping through either the locked door or the small window. My drunk husband, holding a shotgun, is between me and our daughter and the locked bedroom door.
My daughter and I had been lying in the bed reading that Saturday morning. My husband had left the house at the crack of dawn saying he was going to ‘Trade Day’ with one of his friends. It was around 11:00 am when he came stumbling through the bedroom door and locked it behind him.
So, there he stood, wobbling and weaving, with this shotgun in his hands. I looked up at him and asked, “Did you buy a shotgun at ‘Trade Day’? His eyes roamed over the room before finally focusing on me.
“What about it?” he stammered. I just shrugged my shoulders and pushed my daughter over to the edge of the bed. My intentions were to get her under the bed and face him head on.
“No. Don’t move!” he yelled with slurring speech. I froze and held on tightly to my daughters arm to keep her from moving. She began to cry. “Daddy, you’re scaring me,” she said through her tears. Luckily, he ignored her and his eyes stayed focused on me.
I began to think real fast. “What did I do?” “What has he found out?” “Who did he see?”
He took a step back and leaned against the locked door. Then he slowly slid down to the floor, still holding on to the shotgun. I got up out of bed and motioned my daughter to stay back. I walked over to him, now just a heap on the floor. I nudged the bottom of a boot and he just groaned. I reached over him, unlocked the door, then opened it. I looked down at him. He hadn’t moved. I motioned for my daughter to come to me and lifted her over her father and out the door. I grabbed some clothes and went out after her.
I set the lock so that the door would lock back when I shut it. Then we crept silently up the steps leading to the trailer part of the house. There was a sliding door and I shut and locked it also. We gathered some clothing for my daughter, went out the front door, locking it behind us. We placed our clothing in the back seat of the car, then got into the front seats. I started the engine and we headed out to my mom’s, just like all the times before.