They’re close.
Voices loud and fierce,
Slapping faces with words.
A scream …
A cry …
They’re getting closer.

Did I lock the door?
It’s too late to check.
They’re coming.
I barely move, barely breathe.
Perhaps they’ll go away.
But they’re getting closer.

The door slams against the wall.
My eyes squeeze shut.
This curtain is not a shield.
They’re here.
They’ve come for me.
I freeze.

Metal rings clank together.
My barrier is cast aside.
Wearily, I look.
Reddened eyes glower at one another …
But not at me.
I wonder.

A moment of silence …
Water streams down my face.
Steam rolls around my flesh.
I glare at the intruders
And slide the curtain between us.
I wait.

He shrieks,
“She took my glow stick!”
She howls,
“No, I didn’t!”
I scowl.
“Go tell your father about it.”

They leave.
I inhale the lavender mist.
Slather bubbles over my skin.
Five more minutes …
And, next time,
I shall lock the door.

Autor: Barbara Brooke