A thump on the wardrobe door startles her. She stills, her breathing heavy.
‘Shut the f**k up.’ He says every word in a slow whisper, just on the other side of the door. ‘She’s gone. She can’t hear you. No one can hear you.’
She groans and thrashes anyway. He bangs on the door again. ‘You want me to kill you now?’ he shouts. ‘Right now?’
She stops. Squeezes her eyes closed. Tears burn down her face, wet like she has been in the bath. Snot streams out of her nose. She sniffs. She can’t breathe. Snot and sock.
He smacks the door again and it bends in on her and splits, a closed crack. He’s kicking it again and again. Bree-Anna hides her face in her elbows; the door snaps and spits splinters at her. She begs in strangled moans for him to stop until the door falls lopsided, hanging from on
