EMMALINE
The scene fades, but the weight of it doesn’t.
Even as the rain and the courtyard dissolve into nothing, my chest remains heavy, as though I’ve swallowed that small boy’s cries and can’t release them.
My skin prickles with the phantom cold of water I never felt, with ropes that never bound me. I can’t shake the image. Can’t breathe past it.
How could a father look at his own child and show such cruelty? How could a boy so small, so innocent, mean so little to the man who gave him life? I don’t understand it. I don’t want to.
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to erase what I’ve seen, trying to ease the ache gnawing at my chest. But when I open them again, I’m back where I started.
The five doors stand before me, silent and waiting.
My pulse races. My breath comes shallow and u
