Fiction under 250 words.
“And this is the smaller bedroom.” Belinda stepped to one side of the door to allow her clients to move past her and enter the room.
Beads of sweat began to form on her upper lip and she felt sick to her stomach.
It had been fifteen years since she had been in this house and yet seeing the aged homestead, driving through the old neighborhood, was like stepping back through the hellish threshold of her childhood.
“Oh … this could be Courtney’s room,” the well-dressed woman said enthusiastically over her shoulder. Her serious-looking husband merely nodded while pacing aimlessly around the bedroom.
Belinda smiled, or at least, her lips curled into what she hoped resembled a smile. Why had she agreed to show this house? Why hadn’t she gotten someone else to cover for her? This was a mistake. She thought she could face her old demons, she thought she had moved past the abuse she had endured during childhood.
She was wrong.
The man moved toward the closet and Belinda frantically grabbed at the doorframe to steady herself. The darkness that oozed from the opening slowly wrapped itself around her brain and she felt her vision tunnel.
“Nice big closet … Good lord, it goes on forever.” The man said, his voice dissipating as he moved deeper into the opening.
“And you’ll stay in here until we let you out,” a voice sneered in Belinda’s head. She tightly closed her eyes and willed herself back to the present.