Laurel Dunaway
Journal Entry
The little girl feels a sharp pain in her chest, like a knife stabbing her. This is a different pain than the one she felt in the water. It’s suffocating, but it takes longer. She’s afraid as she lies in the dark, too scared to pull the cover up over her head, too scared not to. Her eyes stay fixed on the light underneath her bedroom door. She watches for the shifting of light. She listens for footsteps. She hadn’t realized she could be any more afraid than when her mommy put her in the water, but now she knows she can. She hears the doorknob turning, feels the weight of him stepping into the room.
“Sammy?” the daddy calls. Back then, the girl answered to a different name. “Sammy, I can’t sleep…”
That made two of them.
The girl dared not answer the daddy.
