I squeeze my hands together and look at them. Everything is going to be okay without him here with me. I can make it through a couple of hours alone in the apartment. Daddy is monitoring the cameras every once in a while, and if I absolutelyneed anything, I’ll make a loud noise, and Daddy will be alerted. He’ll come back if the fire alarm goes off again.
“Nothing is going to happen,” I mutter as I look over at the kennel.
The urge to go in there and lie down is strong, but I have a feeling that once I go in there, it is going to make all my symptoms even worse. That is where I was stuck when the fire alarm went off.
“But I won’t be locked in there,” I whisper.
Right. I can prop something against the kennel door to make sure that it doesn’t close on me. I look around the room and spot one of the chairs Daddy sits in when he is eating. He makes it look so easy to move the chair, so maybe I can do it.
I crawl over to the chair and get behind it, pushing with all my might, and it only budges a hair.
“So hard,” I mumble to myself.
I clench my jaw and keep pushing the chair. No matter how long it takes me, I am going to get that chair over to the kennel so I can lie down in it and not have to worry about anything. Hopefully then, I can relax and patiently wait for Daddy to come back and prove there is nothing wrong.
I don’t know how long it takes me to get the chair over to the kennel, but by the time I do, I am out of breath and completely exhausted. But the chair is propping the kennel door open.
When I crawl into the kennel, I snuggle into the blanket and wrap myself in it as I lie my head on the pillow.
“Everything is going to be okay. The fire alarm isn’t going off. The kennel door can’t be closed,” I whisper as I close my eyes. “Just take a little nap. Everything is going to be okay. Daddy will be here before I know it.”
My grip on the blanket tightens as my brain imagines the fire alarm noise. Everything is okay. If it was really going off, the people would contact me like Daddy said.
I pull the blanket over my head and take several deep breaths in, slowly letting them out.
“Just make it through today,” I mutter.
TWELVE
“Little One?” Daddy calls out, but I don’t pull the blanket down.
Is he really here, or is it my imagination playing tricks on me? The whole time he was gone, the fire alarm was blaring over and over in my head.
“He’s not actually here,” I mutter to myself. “You’re okay.”
I take a shaky breath in. I’m on the brink of losing i. All I can hope is Daddy will be here soon and hold me tightly against him.
“Little Pet?” he asks. “Why is the chair over by the kennel? Where are you?”
But his voice sounds so real. It sounds like he is in the apartment.
“Daddy?” I whisper, hoping he is actually here.
“Nora, where are you?” He raises his voice.
I stay silent, not wanting to play into the tricks my brain is playing. If Daddy were really here, he would know that I am in the kennel and come get me. He would wrap his arms around me and tell me that everything is okay, that I don’t have to worry about being alone ever again.
“Hello?” Daddy’s voice sounds panicked. “Where did Nora go? Can you look back on the feed and figure out where she is?”
Does he really not know where I am? Can he not see the lump in the kennel?
“What?” Daddy sounds so confused. “She is in the kennel? No.”
Silence fills the room.
“Yes, thank you,” he mutters. “Nora? Can you peek your head out from under the blanket?”
I hold onto my cover tighter, not wanting to look out. My brain must be really good at coming up with fake things. It sounds like he is actually in the room, waiting for me to follow his command.
