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“ L et me out!” My fists pummel my bedroom door, the timber rattling under each blow as I scream. “You can’t do this!”

I’m about to bash my fist again when a loud hum stays my hand mid swing, and it takes me a moment to recognise the sound. A loud sob escapes me as I spin to face my window, blinking to clear the wet blur of my tears.

“No!”

I stumble towards the window, testing the lock, already knowing it’s secure.

It’s always fastened, just to ensure I can never escape.

Spinning on my heel, I spot my chair at my desk and run for it.

“You can’t do this!” I scream again, my voice barely sounding like my own, having taken on an animalistic rasp .

Gripping my chair, I hoist it up to my chest before darting back towards the window, desperate to escape this prison my parents have forced on me.

I need to get out.

I need to get out, now.

As the hum continues and the setting summer sun gradually disappears from the lowering security shutter, I force another animalistic scream, and launch the chair towards the window.

The shattering of glass and the crash of the chair are loud as it breaks through and skims the lowering shutter, landing on the path outside my window. A glimmer of relief rushes through me at feeling the gentle evening breeze flow in and hit my sweat-soaked skin, teasing me with hope.

Hope that I can escape before it’s too late.

Hope that I can disappear and never be found again by these people.

My family.

The shutter is closing faster than I’d like, which kicks me into action, and despite the shards of glass protruding around the framed edges and the fact I know I’m going to get cut, I leap for the opening.

I have to get free. I can’t stay here anymore.

Rough hands grab me from behind, tugging me away from my only escape.

“No!”

“You can’t stop this from happening, Abigail!”

The screech of my mother is loud and menacing as she and my dad drag me kicking away from the opening as I watch, as if in slow motion, as the shutter finally seals shut, locking me in .

“Maggie, get the pills from the kitchen!” my mother demands of my sixteen-year-old younger sister as Mum and Dad wrestle me to my knees.

“No! No pills! Please!” I plead, my arms burning under my parents’ tight grips as they try to force me to stay still.

I don’t, and I won’t ever stop fighting them. Not now. This isn’t right. They can’t do this.

“I’ll get them, Mum,” Maggie calls enthusiastically, dashing from the room as I plead with her.

“No Maggie. Stop. You know this isn’t right!”

“Maggie, no!” my littlest sister, Tahli cries, her voice trailing off as she chases after Maggie.

Damn it. I don’t want Tahli going against my parents. She’s only twelve, and so much like me. I fear what they might do to her if she’s seen to be siding with me.

But Maggie, they love her. She’s their favourite. She never does anything wrong in their eyes. If only she’d talk to them. Try to get through to them on my behalf, I may have a chance of getting out of this unscathed.

But Maggie is nothing like me. She’s my mum in a nutshell. Practically a clone. And deep down, I know she’d never help me. After all, tonight’s drama started with her and her hatred for me. She didn’t have to tell my parents what she found, yet she did, with a sinister grin on her smug face.

“Daddy. Please.” I sob as his face comes into view, hoping he’ll still see the little girl in me. The same little girl that he used to adore. “Don’t let this happen, Daddy. It doesn’t have to be like this. I know you know that.”

“Shut up, Abigail!” my mother hisses, her hand fisting in my hair and tugging my head back so I’m forced to take in her furious brown eyed glare. “Don’t try and get your father to side against me. My beliefs are his beliefs.” She snarls in my face, baring her smoke-stained yellow teeth.

Why does she hate me so much?

Why does she choose her beliefs over everything else?

Over her child?

“Your mother is right, Abbey. Stop making this harder for yourself by fighting. You need to accept the consequences of your actions.”

I try to tug against my dad’s firm grip as I glance up at him, noticing how tired he looks, but I barely move. His strength alone has me trapped here.

“But Daddy. I didn’t—”

“Stop!” he roars, cutting me off as his free hand grips my jaw so hard, I have no choice but to open my mouth.

“Take out two pills,” my mother demands, which is when I realise Maggie has returned.

“I brought a bottle of water too, to make sure they wash down properly, like last time.”

“Good girl, Maggie,” my mother praises, and I start struggling profusely, a wild and monstrous screech ripping from my throat as I fight harder, trying to get free.

“Stop hurting her!” Tahli screams from somewhere behind me, but no one pays her any attention, their focus on me as the three of them work together to control me.

No. No. No. I scream in my head as I try to force my mouth closed, but my dad’s grip is firm, and Maggie, the little bitch, shoves two pills into my open mouth before she starts filling it with water .

I try to cough, but my mum releases my hair and pinches my nose, even as my dad forces my mouth shut.

I flail like a crazy woman to no avail, their strength overpowering until my body begins fighting my own instincts, and I swallow the damn pills and water.

When my dad notices, he forces my mouth open again, and Maggie, the traitorous evil cow, starts filling my mouth with more and more water.

The fight leaves me, knowing it’s too late. They did what they set out to do. Lock me in here. Drug me so I’ll stop fighting, all so they can control me better.

I know what’s coming. More drugs, I’m sure. How else will they keep me compliant in the morning when they dress me in white, pay off the minister, and force me to marry one of the cruellest people I know?

Yes. Even crueller than my mother.

The moment my parents release me, I tumble to the carpet on my bedroom floor, sobbing, curling in on myself as I stare at their feet exiting my room.

“Thank you for your help, Maggie. You honour our family.” My mother’s words float to me right before my door closes, and I hear the latches click into place as they lock me in.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

I count in my head until I reach ten, and then leap up off my floor, knowing they are no longer on the other side of the door.

Scurrying over to my desk, I pull out the small trash can and shove my fingers down my throat.

I can’t let the drugs work. If I do, I won’t be able to fight.

I gag a few times before I force my fingers so far into the back of my throat that it hurts, and finally my attempt works .

I heave up the water with force into the can, frantically looking for the two white pills.

Nothing.

“Shit. Come on. Come on,” I whisper-cry to myself, before repeating the process and inducing more vomiting.

Again, I heave, purging more of my stomach contents, and this time, one pill comes up too.

“Yes.” I quietly celebrate and yeah, I know how utterly crazy it is for me to be cheering myself on for hurling. I hate doing it. It’s horrid, yet right now, it’s what might save me.

I try again to induce more vomiting, and after three attempts with little results, I know the second pill isn’t coming up.

Dammit.

I don’t know what drug it is, but my parents have done this before, when they told me I would be spending the long weekend with Daniel and his family at their holiday house. They did it again for New Year’s Eve, knowing I’d do anything not to be alone with that monster.

Last time, the two pills made me lethargic and eventually knocked me out for the night, and in the morning, as I woke, still affected by the drugs in my system, my mum shoved another pill down my throat, my body too lethargic to fight her off.

By the time Daniel and his family arrived to pick me up, my steps were heavy, my speech was slurred, and my eyes lazy, drifting shut on their own accord.

They controlled me those nights so I’d comply the next morning, and they are trying to do the same thing now.

I plan on giving them a very rude shock when they come to re-drug me in the morning .

Even as I think it, I can feel an unwelcome lightness washing over me.

Dammit. The pill still inside my gut is starting to work.

Slowly, I start crawling across my carpet towards my window where large shards of glass remain scattered.

A soft manic giggle rumbles in my chest as I realise the irony of this situation.

My parents removed all sharp objects from my bedroom last year when they feared I’d use them to harm myself.

Not gonna lie. I thought about it.

So why now, have they left me with hundreds of sharp splintered shards at my disposal?

Are they just dumb, or will they be back to clean it up?

Knowing it’s likely they’ll be back, I quickly snatch up a large shard that’s big enough to grip, and long enough to do real damage and I hide it under my mattress.

Never have I wanted my mum to come back into my bedroom more than in this moment.

She’d never expect me to really hurt her, which is exactly how I’m going to escape, even if I have to kill her.