The combination of being trapped, the stars dancing in front of my eyes, the panic, it all sent me spiraling back. I fought to stay in the here and now, but I couldn’t quite hold on.

Hot tears tracked down my cheeks. “Michael, let me out. Please!”

His laughter sifted through the cracks of the trunk where it rested in the old attic. “I thought you wanted to play.”

“It’s not fun anymore. Let me out or I’ll scream.”

Michael had been in trouble so many times over these past few months, I knew our parents would ground him for sure if they found out that he’d locked me in here.

“Scream away. You know they won’t hear.”

My breaths came faster as my heart rattled against my ribs. I knew they wouldn’t. Because Dad had spent an entire week last spring soundproofing the attic space so Michael and I had a place to practice our music without driving the rest of the house insane.

“Please,” I whispered. “I don’t want to be in here anymore.”

“I know you don’t.” He gave the side of the trunk a swift kick. “Why? What does it feel like, sissy?”

“Like I can’t breathe.” Maybe if Michael got his answers, he’d let me out.

“Like you’re going to die?”

“Maybe.” My voice trembled as I tried to focus on slowing my inhales and exhales. I played my upcoming recital piece over and over in my mind. Maybe if I just focused on that, I’d be okay.

“You won’t. You’ll hurt, though. When you die, I want to watch.”

His voice was so angelic when he said the words. One of the reasons he got away with so much, so often. It had taken our parents too long to see through that mask. To begin to worry what their son might be capable of. But they’d slowly caught on. Then, some of the kids at school. The teachers. I’d overheard his third-grade teacher admitting to the librarian that she was scared of Michael. She should be.

My tears came quicker, but I didn’t let the sobs out. It would only make Michael happier. Make him keep me in here longer. I did my best to keep my voice steady. “If you let me out, I’ll give you my allowance next week.”

Michael was quiet. Likely thinking. I should’ve started with this offer instead of a threat. I should’ve known by now that no punishment or loss seemed to change the way he acted. But sometimes a bribe did. He crouched in front of the trunk, his eyes level with one of the cracks between the slats so I could see him. “The whole month.”

“O-o-okay.” The tremble slipped through my voice again, and Michael grinned.