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“It’s a joke. Look how strong you are, Daphne. Look how brave. Look how smart you are to have ended up in this prison.”
“Little painter—”
“Just leave me alone.” Her hands ball up into fists. “Or am I not allowed to be alone?”
“You can be alone anywhere you want. Anywhere in the house.”
“Great. Well, thank you.” Daphne turns around and marches over to the closet. “Oh my god. There’s clothes,” she mutters as I go back across the studio. “Oh my god.”
In my bedroom, I sit at the foot of the bed and listen to her pace.
Daphne doesn’t throw any books. She doesn’t attempt to break a window. She just paces, like a hummingbird caught in a net.
Her footsteps move back and forth.
Back and forth.
It would be soothing, if my mind could dismiss the sound. It’s impossible. When there are other people in the house, I’m constantly on alert. It’s like having the outside world barge in. It takes time for my nerves to settle. My house is the only place on earth it’s possible for that to happen, so visitors are rare by necessity.
Except Daphne doesn’t seem like a visitor.
I’m listening to her for another reason entirely. I can’t help myself. I need to know more about her, and if all I can have is the sound of her footsteps, then that’s where I’ll start.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
From this perspective, I can only see small flashes of her when she passes in front of both doorways. Faint tendrils of her shadow reach into my bedroom, though I would hardly describe it that way. A shifting of the light, perhaps. It begins to feel like a shift in the air. Tactile movement. I suppress the urge to push it away, to ignore the sensation. Many times in my life, surviving meant a departure from the situation at hand. If I couldn’t leave physically, then I left in my mind.
I’m staying here for this.
Back and forth.
Back and forth.
I wish she would come back to me. A futile wish. She won’t be crossing the studio, my white shirt moving with her hips.
A vision of that moment springs to mind, vivid as any daydream, as any real day. Daphne returning to me. Understanding.
The footsteps stop.
A moment of silence.
And then—
A crash.
