The Closet

He was back. She held her breath and shut her eyes. He moved the clothing from one side of the closet pole to the other, thinking she was hiding behind them. When he was unsuccessful in finding her that way, he started digging out the shoe boxes, stuffed animals and other toys stacked and stuffed into the end of the closet, opposite of where she was. She was at the end that was more open. He was digging in the end that logically provided more cover.

That was her trick. Her one way of getting away from them. Hide in plain sight. To her left was the large stuffed bear, given to her by her brother now in Viet Nam. On her right were the two grocery bags full of clothing that that would be given to her eldest niece next time that brother and his family came by. The edge of one bag hid the edges of her body on one side, the bear hid the other. She couldn’t hide her face. Some how, when she hid in a way that her entire body was covered, they always found her. It was only when she hid partly and in plain sight that they couldn’t seem to see her. It was hard to find a place to hide her entire body anyway. At seven she was tall, and skinny. But they never really saw her anyway. They only looked at elements of her. Long brown hair. Gangly limbs. A certain height. Since she was sitting and not lying down, like she had when she hid under her bed. So, when they looked for her at a height four or five inches off the ground, they did not see her. When they looked for her at her 4 foot something height, they also did not see her. Sitting, and being something less than 3 feet tall was to her advantage today.

She needed to breathe. She carefully and slowly let air out of her lungs, while trying to keep her chest expanded as much as possible so that movement wouldn’t catch his eye. She slowly and silently breathed in again when she could.

He stepped back. He looked at the closet as a whole, trying to see her. He turned around, looked under the bed again, and in the two bigger drawers in the chest. There was nothing else in the room, and they knew she had run into the room, they’d all seen her run in here.

With his back turned to the closet, she was able to breathe again. She still did it slowly, silently, so he wouldn’t hear it. Was she scared? Yes. She almost always was scared. She didn’t know yet that it wasn’t normal to be scared this much of the time. Scared wasn’t supposed to be the normal state of being.

He left the room then. She relaxed a little. They might stop hunting for her. The last time that happened, she napped in her closet, and woke hours later having never been found. But that time Dad hadn’t been home. Dad hadn’t been the one who wanted her.

He was back soon enough, this time with one of the others in tow. She didn’t like this one. He was mean. Every God given talent he had was used only to hurt others. He had the ability to charm animals. He could put a bee to sleep by petting it. He could charm a scared stray cat into his arms. The bees he would then bury, and when they woke, buried in the dirt, they would fight their way out, ready to sting whatever was closest. The cat, the poor cat, became his toy. He swung it by its tail and let it go only when he knew it would slam onto the concrete of the road. His charm would draw the cat back to him, repeatedly, until it finally crawled off to die.

The second one stood in the room and surveyed it. As he turned toward the closet, the doorless closet, her fear swelled. She held her breath, as she had before, remained motionless, but still he saw her. The charmer was also a natural hunter. He smelled her fear and honed in on it. He grabbed her shoulders and let them slide down her arms into painful grips. He pulled hard, and she began to kick and scream, which never did any good at all, but she refused to go quietly. The first one grabbed her legs, and together they carried her off, out of her bedroom and down the stairs. And, so, to endure another session of fatherly love. Their chore done, they were released to go play outside.