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Frantically twisting my body, I maneuver myself so I’ll be able to see any movement from under the door. When I see his shadow walking toward the door, I quickly continue.
“If you come in, I can play ball with you. Would you like that?”
Silence.
His shadow is still outside the door, however.
“My name is Camilla.”
“My mummy says I can’t talk to strangers,” he softly says.
“I’m not a stranger,” I assure him calmly. “I know your name is Shay. Would a stranger know that?”
My eyes strain in the darkness, but the hallway light is all the light I need because it allows me to see Shay’s shadow remains outside my door.
“Naw, I don’t think they would,” he replies, a little louder this time.
“Good boy,” I say, the first smile I’ve smiled in days spreading across my cheeks. “Can you open the door for me?”
The handle rattles, but I know that it’s locked.
“Your mommy has the key. Can you see it anywhere?” My desperation almost chokes me because I know I’m running out of time.
Shay’s mom, wherever she is, will be back any moment.
“Shay?”
When I hear his little footsteps pound down the hallway, growing softer and softer, I tug at my restraints, crying out in anger. “Fuck!”
Arching my neck, I confirm these cuffs aren’t budging by my raw red wrists. I’ve tried for days. Unless someone frees me, I’ll be left here to rot. It’s useless.
However, when I hear the lock click over and a sliver of light peek in from the open door, hope returns, and it returns thanks to a little boy whose curiosity will help me survive this. He cautiously enters, ensuring he keeps his distance. I can’t see him because my room is almost pitch-black. The hallway is all the light I have.
“Hi, Shay,” I say calmly, trying my best to conceal the cuffs, but he’s seen them. “Please don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.”
“Why are ye tied up?”
“I don’t know,” I reply honestly. “Do you think you can help untie me? I need a key to fit into this lock. It’ll be a little silver one. Your mommy has the key.”
She has uncuffed me to shower and use the bathroom, but that stopped a couple of days ago when I smashed a lamp over her head and made a run for the front door. It was locked, and she had the key. My punishment is the darkness I now reside in and soiling myself where I lay.
“I didn’t see a little key, but A’ll go look again,” he says, wringing his hands out in front of him.
“Thank you, Shay. You’re such a good boy.”
“Did ya upset Mummy?”
“No, I didn’t. I think someone is making your mommy do this. Maybe your daddy?”
“I don’t have a daddy,” he says, stepping closer.
The hallway light allows me to see his face a little clearer, and suddenly, I can’t breathe.
“What’s your mommy’s name?”
Shay continues walking closer, and when he’s a few feet away, I gasp. His eyes—I’ve looked into them before.
“My mummy is—”
