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You don't flinch when you hear her footsteps in the hallway, outside your cell.
Slow, uneven, taking her time on these old floors.
The gentle tap...tap... of her cane. Ever since that night, in the library's basement, when she'd given up her years to save you, she's needed it.
You bought her that cane. The next day, at the general store, refusing to meet the eyes of...whoever it was, behind the counter.
A clink of metal-on-metal. She's giving the locks a tug, one at a time, just to make sure they're still sturdy.
She'd added a few new ones, the first week after she'd shoved you you in here.
Horror rising in your chest as you stumble forward, whirling around, catching just the briefest glimpse of her frightened face as you lunge for the closing door.
Pain shoots up your arm like lightning as two of your fingers jam between the door and the frame, and you howl like a wounded animal, a combination of pain, rage, and fear.
She has one foot on the doorframe, both hands gripping the doorknob tightly with her entire body's weight, to keep you in. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry-"
Something cracks in one of your fingers as a bone fractures, and you yield, yanking your hand back with an agonized scream.
The door slams shut, and the deadbolt clicks home like a thunderclap.
It seemed so long ago, now.
After the first day, she'd come back with some power tools. Cut a hole out of the bottom of the door, and installed a small, sturdy metal one. Barely the size of a pet door, just big enough to push food through. Nowhere big enough for you to crawl through.
She hadn't looked you in the eye, the whole time.
When the food door was done, there had been the sound of a power drill on the other side of the door, fastening the brackets for the extra locks into place.
From your spot, crouched on the floor on the far end of the room, just under the window, you can see the teeniest point of a just-too-long screw poking through the other side of the door frame.
The sounds from outside fall silent. She's standing there, silent.
Trying not to feel so awful about what she's done to you.
She calls your name.
You don't respond.
"Are you awake?"
You remain silent.
She sighs. "I just...wanted to check in with you."
You continue glaring at the opposite wall.
"It's...it's been 3 years."
The statement doesn't even hurt you, anymore. You killed the last vestiges of hurt within you in the first year.
"You'll...you'll be happy to know the town's doing good." Strained optimism in her voice. "Shops have been opening back up on Main street. And the mine's...good too..." She trails off, perhaps knowing she's not getting anywhere.
You remain silent, only glaring at the other side of the door.
The food door slides open, as it does three times a day. Rain or shine, no matter how swamped she might be at the mine office (not that you'd know), she always brings you breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
She tosses in a PB&J sandwich, wrapped in a sandwich baggie, before sliding the food door closed again.
"Stella was asking about you. She...she hopes you're doing okay."
You glare at the sandwich. She makes them for you, every day, even despite her allergy. You're almost touched.
"...Do you want anything?" Her voice, almost pleading for you to answer. "I can get you books. A puzzle...some Legos..." She trails off, as if realizing the absurdity of what she's trying to smooth over the situation with.
You raise your voice, just enough to be heard, and in a voice rusty with disuse, repeat the only words you've said to her since she locked you in here.
"You should be where I am."
She's silent.
Several long seconds pass.
Finally, your cousin sighs once more. "I'll be back this evening to bring you dinner. I'll...bring some of your ice cream along with the mac-and-cheese."
The silence lasts long enough that you start to wonder if she left already, and you just didn't hear it.
Then, finally, she whispers once more.
"I'll see you later, Tabitha."
The gentle creak of the ancient floorboards under her unsteady step, her cane tapping along with her, as the one responsible for the town and the Scarlet family name walks away.