Page 51 of The Vanishing Place

Time was divided into two. Complete dark and almost dark.

During the day, light peeked in through the cracks and small gaps, and Effie could make out the outlines of her fingers and legs. During the day, the air turned a shade lighter than ink, and the items in the room took shape.

A bed. A chair. A small desk. A solid metal chain.

Effie reached down and touched her ankle, where the skin had been rubbed raw, and tried to move into a more comfortable position.

Two days had passed. Twice a line of light had entered through the small boarded-up window, spilling across the floor in a white ribbon, and Effie had watched it shrink and disappear.

She forced a piece of bread through her teeth, the dough moving around in her dry mouth, then she took a sip of water.

The packages—food and water and a bucket for relieving herself—were snuck in during the night.

There was no face or voice that went with them.

At night, when the bedroom door opened, no light came in with it.

The room on the other side was just as dark.

Effie grimaced at the pain between her eyes. The headaches and the dizziness were constant. Whoever had thumped her had done a bloody good job of it. The last thing Effie remembered was wading across the Roaring Billy, then waking up in the hut. In her parents’ old bedroom.

“Fuck.” Effie swore and punched the bed, the sudden movement making her nauseous. “Fuck.”

When the spinning eased, she crawled forward until the length of chain pulled tight against the solid bed frame, and she threw the stale bread the remaining meter to the door. It hit the wood with a soft thump.

“ What do you want with me? ” she shouted.

Nothing.

“Let me go, you cowardly shit.”

Nothing.

Effie focused on the bottom of the door where there was a strip of light, a small gap in the darkness.

It was still daytime somewhere out there.

She lifted the plate and threw it at the wall.

The loud clang split the quiet, vibrating in her chest and fingers.

Then she turned, searching the shadows. Looking for something.

For anything. On her right, she spotted the silhouette of a row of books.

She lifted one after the other and hurled them at the door.

Thud. Thud. Thud .

As Effie reached for the fourth book, a shadow—perhaps two feet—moved across the strip of light.

“Stop.” The female voice was quiet—frightened. “Please. He’ll punish you.”

“Who?” Effie clambered toward the voice. “Who will punish me?”

There was a scraping of wood, of shuffled furniture, then the feet disappeared.

“ No ,” Effie yelled. “Wait. Come back.”

She tried to lunge forward, but the chain dug into her skin and the force flattened her to the floor. When she looked up again, the light had gone from under the door, blocked by something.

“Come back,” Effie pleaded. “Please come back.”

But there was no reply.

—

The cold woke her, trailing its fingers along her skin.

Effie shifted on the bed, the chain long enough that she could lie on her right side comfortably, and she reached out, feeling for the extra blanket. She combed the bed with her fingers, searching for wool, but instead finding solid wood.

A box.

Shivering, Effie pulled herself up and held the box in her palm.

She traced over the lid and around the edges, then popped it open.

There was a small strip of paper inside, and what felt like a well-used matchbox.

But there was just one match. One chance at light.

Unable to quell the shake in her fingers, she took the match out slowly, carefully, and held it in her right hand.

Then, with a shallow inhale of air, she dragged it across the rough strip.

Nothing happened. No fire.

Effie held her breath, gripped the match tighter and tried again.

Please. Please .

Then, with a flick, a small flame pierced through the dark. Quickly, Effie lifted the piece of paper and held it to the light. The flame flickered in her trembling fingers and she had to force her hands to be still. There were just four words, scribbled in purple crayon.

You need to pray .

Effie read it three times, her eyes darting back and forth, looking for something other than those four words.

Then, as quickly as it had been breached, the darkness returned.