Silent.
Locked in.
Hands around her knees.
Shivers wracked her slight frame.
Locks of hair hanging limp over her shoulders.
She took a deep breath in, resisting the urge to look around herself.
She’d been shoved in the little closet for hours, each hour becoming more and more unbearable.
The dark, which had been oppressing her little mind, gradually became familiar. The blackness that had been a stranger, now a new friend, enfolding her in its arms.
Her own arms relaxed as her legs folded, crisscrossing on the cold ground, and her fingers started playing.
Playing with the locks of her hair, over and over, again and again.
To see, she stopped trying to blink.
She just breathed easy now.
Three was her age.
Locked in.
Silent.
Alone.
