Locked In

I hear a noise downstairs. It can’t be an intruder. Can it? All the doors and windows should be locked. Every night they are locked. I don’t move a muscle. I barely breathe. A cloud must be drifting across the sun because the light pattern changes on the ceiling.

“Only me!” comes the call. Of course. Julia.

Maybe this time she will have the needle, the syringe, the release.

I stare up at the ceiling. Only the ceiling.

I don’t move a muscle.

I barely breathe.

Julia enters the room.

Please kill me. Please, I silently scream.

Please. Please.

Please.