The Closet
by Nina Keen
I've been in the shoe closet for three days now. Daddy said I was ungrateful before he locked me in this time. It's true, I suppose. I never said thank you for dinner. And he works hard to make money to buy me dinner. And I never said thank you.
I heard him leaving the garage and coming home three times. And that's how I know it's been three days. Because daddy never goes anywhere except work. And I know he cares about me and misses me and that's why he doesn't leave me alone for long. He doesn't even go grocery shopping. He orders groceries online even though it's more expensive and he says he spends money on me because he cares about me more than anyone else.
The closet seems to have gotten smaller than the last time I was in here. I have to fold my legs criss-cross apple sauce. There are somebody's new shoes here: red pointy heels. I move them to the other corner so they don't poke me. I'm happy I can't smell the dust or the ghost of feet anymore. The first day I could and that was bad and I thought I might throw up. But now it might as well be a rose garden in here my nostrils are so crusted over with snot.
Yesterday, I heard him pour a second glass of milk (for me) and I don't think he ever washed it down the sink. The day before that, he told me he loved me. And even when he told me to go to my closet, he said it was because he knew what was best for me. He says all the other kids lie to me. He says they don't know how Bad I am.
I can feel the glass of milk going sour on the table and I can hear the neighbors getting ready for the day. I hear them screaming at each other. Daddy never yells. His voice raises and his face turns red, but he's never yelled at me. He's never even hit me. I'm sure he'll let me out soon, but first I have to get rid of the Bad inside me. And only he knows how long it takes for the Bad to get out, because he's so good. Daddy saves lives at his job and he rescued our dog from being stray. When he tucks me into bed, he kisses my forehead. So I love him. Even though it's hard to sometimes. Like now. I would love him more if my knees weren't swelling and my stomach wasn't twisting. But he says when my body is Bad it just means I'm getting better. I pray three times a day and ask God to let me get better so I can get out soon.
After I fall into a black sleep in the corner I made for myself by re-arranging the shoes, I hear the garage door open. Or rather feel the vibrations of it. I hear Daddy walk over to where I am. He stands in front of the door. I can't think of anything, except that I'm so joyously happy. Everything feels bright like Christmas morning. I hear him shift his weight and I hear his fingers on the door knob. Though I know I will get in trouble for doing this, I push open the door. Gently, just to see him. I picture a bubble bath and my favorite pajamas and my teddy bear.
I sit still, like they tell you to do in case of an earthquake. Daddy isn't outside the door. No one is. This is my house ever since he went away. And those red shoes, I now know, are mine.
Nina Keen received her Master's degree in English literature from Loyola Marymount University. Her flash fiction pieces and poetry have appeared in various publications, including The Fifth Di and Coffin Bell Journal. Her love of dark fiction was sparked by Edgar Allan Poe's "The Tell-Tale Heart." She enjoys happier things too — coffee, trips to Disneyland, and small animals (like mice). Nina can be reached for inquiries about her work at: keenninatales@gmail.com.