One Week In The Dark Novel by Nancy Eainee _ Novel




One Week In The Dark Novel by Nancy Eainee _ Novel

One Week In The Dark Chapter 01

The day we moved into our new home, my adopted sister, Sophia Raynor, threw a tantrum and refused to go upstairs—all because I wouldn't give her my stuffed animal.
Mom and Dad told me to go downstairs and bring her up.
I obediently went down and searched everywhere, but she was nowhere to be found. My blood sugar dropped, and I blacked out, ending up in the hospital.
When I woke up, I assumed Sophia had already come home, so I went back myself.
But I returned to a scene of absolute chaos.
Mom and Dad were in a state of pure panic, ransacking the house in a desperate search for Sophia, who seemed to have vanished into thin air.
A week later, the stench of decay in the elevator shaft led the rescue team there, and they found her.
The walls inside were smeared with blood. The coroner said Sophia, terrified, had desperately tried to call for help before she died.
After that, Mom sank into a deep depression. She couldn't even look at me without breaking down.
"It's all your fault. You went off to play when you were supposed to bring Sophie back. Are you happy now that she's dead?"
Dad chain-smoked pack after pack, his face twisted in pain as he confronted me.
"Clarissa, if you hadn't fought with Sophie over that stuffed animal, she wouldn't have stormed off and ended up in the elevator shaft. Why did you have to fight with her?"
Their grief poured out in waves. I curled up, terrified, whispering apologies over and over.
Then one day, Mom, in another fit of madness over losing Sophia, locked me in the elevator shaft, wanting me to feel Sophia's despair.
Dad gave me a sympathetic look and said, "Your mother's just overwhelmed and unstable right now. Hang in there for a bit. I'll come get you soon."
I nodded quietly, waiting for Dad to let me out.
But they quickly forgot about me.
Time passed. My breathing grew shallow, my consciousness slipping away.
Yet I kept apologizing, over and over.
"I'm sorry, Mom. I'm sorry, Dad. I'll be good. I swear I won't fight with Sophia over a stuffed animal in my next life."
***
The air inside the elevator shaft grew thinner and thinner.
I couldn't breathe. My face was turning purple, and I pounded on the wall with all the strength I had left.
"Mom, Dad, let me out... I know I was wrong..."
My voice was barely more than a whisper. No one answered.
Wedged into the cramped shaft with my legs tucked high, I felt my entire body beginning to ache.
I wanted to cry, but then Dad's words echoed in my mind.
"Rissa, your mother's just unstable. Hang in there for a bit. Count from one to a thousand, and I'll come get you."
I'd already counted fifty sets of a thousand, my throat sore and raw, yet Dad still hadn't come.
Was it dark outside?
It was always dark in here—cold and scary.
A coppery smell filled my nose. Was it Sophia's blood?
My throat felt like it was being squeezed tight. Like a dying fish, I thrashed desperately against the walls.
At last, my hands went limp. I was running out of air, blacking out, my vision fading.
And in that haze, I thought I saw Sophia—her chin lifted, a smug smile playing on her lips.
"You little country bumpkin! So what if you're their real daughter? Now you get it, right? Mom and Dad love me more than you—and that'll never change!"

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