I feel the mattress move when he sits on the opposite end of it. He’s leaning forward like I am, still concentrating on that spot. “She’s still there. You just have to find her.”
I bite my lip and slowly nod.
“So you’ve been locked inside for a week. Barely went out the weeks before that. Were missing from the world for ten years.” The mattress whines when he shifts. “Is there anything you’ve really missed? I’m talking ‘you have one day to live—where do you spend it?’”
He doesn’t ask me who I’m going to spend it with, and I’m grateful because I don’t need to complicate things between us. They’re already too complicated.
“The beach,” I say. “I miss the beach.”
Torrin’s head turns my way. “Our beach?”
I nod. “That one.”
He’s quiet for a minute—his thoughts are loud though. “Well, you miss the beach. I’ll have to figure out a way to get you to the beach.”
I TRIED LEAVING my room last night after Torrin left. I tried until my forehead was sweating and my hands were shaking. I tried for a solid hour, working up the courage and mentally preparing myself.
I never made it out the door. I got as far as my hand on the doorknob, but I couldn’t manage the next part. My hand couldn’t twist the handle. My fingers couldn’t pull the door open.
No one had locked me in the room. I’d locked myself in . . . and I couldn’t free myself. I felt as powerless as I had on the end of that chain. The one I could have just picked up and walked out the front door with.
The same thing is happening, but this time, I know I’m free to go. This time, the only thing holding me back is myself.
I’ve heard footsteps moving up and down the hall all morning, but no one has banged on my door or tried to beg or order me out. I kind of wish someone would though because, like that day when I dropped to my knees on the lawn in front of hundreds of cameras, I can’t do the next part alone. I need help to get out from behind this door, and I’ve forgotten how to ask for it.
After years of asking, hoping, and waiting for it, help is just as much a fairy tale as happily ever after.
I’ve just stepped out of the bathroom adjoining my room, towel-drying my hair, when I hear that knock. It doesn’t sound like any of the others I’ve heard so far.
“Jade?”
I stop dabbing the towel through my hair.
“So I know you’re in there since, you know, you refuse to leave your room.” He pauses. “Are you going to talk to me, or should I climb the roof again?”
“What is it, Torrin?” I sail the towel back into the bathroom and tug on the sweater I pulled out of the closet.
“I want to talk to you.”
“You are talking to me.”
He sighs. “I want to talk to you, not your door.”
I move toward the door. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Actually, I want to show you something. Talking isn’t required if you’re sick of talking to me.”
I don’t smile, but I want to. I can feel it beneath the surface, trying to push through toward the light. “Fine. What do you want to show me?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Is this your way of trying to get me to leave my room?”
“No, you don’t have to go far. Just down the hall and two doors to the left. That’s it.”
My feet pad across the carpet, moving closer to the door. “What’s the surprise?”
“You know the definition of surprise, right?”
I lean into the wall the door’s on, staring at it. “I can’t do it, Torrin. I tried . . . I can’t get the door open.”
The handle jars a little when I guess he puts his hand on it. “I’ll help you.”
I bite my lip and try to keep the panic from rolling to a boil. It’s crazy what three days of isolation will do to a person. It’s crazy how the world outside of these four walls can seem so scary and unreachable.
It’s crazy that after finally earning my freedom, I seem to have checked it back in.
“You can do this, Jade. You’re strong. Stronger than your biggest, ugliest fear. Ten times stronger than that.”
I don’t believe it, but the confidence in his voice gets my hand to the handle. This is as far as I made it earlier, and already my hand is trembling. I wonder if Torrin can feel from the other side how scared I am.
“Ready?” His voice rolls through the crack in the door.
“I think so.”
I manage to twist the handle a little, and I feel Torrin twisting it at the same time. The knob turns all the way over, but when he starts to push it open, the door stays in place.
“It’s locked. You can’t open it like that. I can’t help you open it if it’s locked.”
The handle’s slippery from my hand, and I don’t dare let go because I’m not sure my hand could find its way back. So I lift my other hand and guide it toward the lock. This hand’s quivering too, but before it grows into shakes, I manage to turn the lock over in a quick motion.
“There.” My voice is high with strain. “It’s unlocked.”
“Then open the door, Jade.”
My heart is firing, and I’m not sure I can, but then I feel my hand twisting and my fingers pulling and then . . . the door opens. Something inside me is ready to be free.
Torrin’s hand is still wrapped around the handle when the door swings into my room. He doesn’t let go until the door’s open all the way.