They click their tongues in the next room over.
A hushed voice.
Where is she?
I long for the scent of lilac, my favorite, to cover the stench of hatred.
The shadows are my friend.
Just wall, I think, between us.
The chair creaks as one of them sits.
A insistent whisper.
She’s got to be here.
A taste of fresh spring water, sunshine on my face, the embrace of my mother, anything.
Anything to give me strength.
I’m just hiding; waiting.