“You keep up with these shenanigans, and placement in any home will be out of the question. One day, you’ll wind up on the street, destitute and hungry with no option but to—” She broke off, filtering herself.

The mass of spectators seemed to hold a collective breath.

Regrouping, Mrs. Atwood continued. “As for imminent consequences…I confess, I do hesitate to punish anyone on this special day, one that specifically celebrates hope and new life.” Her phrasing suggested leniency. At minimum, an openness at last to hear my side.

Then she turned and projected for everyone to hear. “And yet such a glorious reward is possible only, as Jesus has taught us, after atonement.” She sent a nod to the male attendant. A cue.

He took my arm. As he walked me out, a new wave of whispers gained an ominous timber, though they largely slipped past me. With a sense of detachment, I barely processed my guided path, a zigzagging through halls and doorways and down a set of steps. Lit by a single hanging bulb, a long, narrow room held shelves of food in jars, boxes, and cans. Lining the wall were barrels marked FLOUR. The air was stale, smelling of a cellar.

Why were we here? Where were we going?

When the man released me, I was standing in a smaller room. From the ceiling, a cord dangled with a socket that lacked a light bulb.

A closet, I thought. But a thin mattress and pillow lay on the floor.

“You behave now, missy.”

I swiveled back to him, trying to comprehend, but stepping out, he was swinging the door shut.

He was leaving me. In here alone.

Snapped back to the scene, I lurched forward to stop him. “No—don’t! You can’t!”

But he clicked the lock, abandoning me to the darkness. A prisoner’s solitary. My living nightmare.

I pounded on the door, the space an unseen tomb. “Please, no! Please, please, no! Please, no!” I begged this over and over, my throat turning raw. Panic buzzed, swarming my body, threatening as a hornets’ nest. Nightmares flickered back. Of being smothered by bodies, buried alive in a casket, consumed by a shrinking stairwell. I went to scream but couldn’t. I was gulping down air, nearly choking on it.

Calm. Be calm!

Desperate for Arie’s hand, I clutched my fists to my chest and stumbled back against a wall. A slit of light shone through a gap below the door. I slid downward, woozy and reeling, and sank onto the cold concrete floor. A chill zipped up my spine and my whole body shuddered.

Hearing the raggedness of my breaths, I worked to control them, but they refused to slow. My heart slammed my ribs—thud-thud, thud-thud—and my brain spun, round and round, an endless spiral.

My last coherent thought before the world disappeared was: Out, I need…to get out…