The Locked Door

I didn’t know what I was getting into when I moved in with Mary.  Never before had I ever considered or encountered a locked door in any place I had ever lived.  Even growing up in my family, that was saying something.  With my parents, I never knew what their moods would be from day to day and the only doors with locks were the front and back doors. 

All I was certain of was there wouldn’t be any violence, maybe just uncertainty.  Living with Mary could be a completely different story.  Different yet interesting.  Different yet scary.  Different yet mesmerizing.  There were so many stories and instances I came across while living with Mary that I couldn’t help but write everything down. 

The night my nerves became fear was the night I woke up for a pee break and I found her standing directly outside my bedroom door in a trance.  I said hello and slid by on the way to the bathroom and when she didn’t respond or move, I thought about retreating to my room, but my bladder was too full.  After I came back from the bathroom, she had moved and was standing next to my bed, but she no longer seemed to be in a trance.  Her eyes followed me as I slowly walked into the room, but didn’t respond to any questions I had. 

Was she okay?  Did she need me?  Could I call anyone for her?  Nothing. Nothing until she started screaming. 


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