Chapter 3

Peter shuddered as he slowly shut one of the closet doors, pulling it towards him, the light from the window disappearing into the small crack. He clutched the blanket tight to his chest and tried to focus on the stuffed animal leaning against his leg, hoping the lion would weigh him down like an anchor.

The closet was bigger than the one he was used to, and he'd gone in on his own free will. When the rain outside picked up, it was almost as if he had no other choice. His uncle constantly warned him about pneumonia and other illnesses that could be caught if he wasn't careful.

He fought and fought as the dread settled in, making goosebumps rise on his skin. He was used to these and had to fight it or wait it out. The boy bit his lip and counted his heartbeats, squeezing his eyes shut. His head swayed with lightheadedness. If his eyes were to have opened, the all-black room would have felt as though it was rocking on waves.

His hands rose to grasp his head as he placed it in between his legs to regulate his breathing. Memories flashed in his head as if the thunder outside was a harmonic cue for the horrors to replay.

A door slamming, the darkness coming abruptly as the locks were turned, ensuring Peter would not be going anywhere until someone released him.

They said it was for his own protection, to guarantee he didn't run off. Peter's first time in the closet was when he was six years old. It was small; lined with crayons, paper, cans of nonperishables, juice boxes, and a bucket. He didn't mind it at first, but after six hours had passed and his dad finally let him out in a hazy stupor, it was apparent this was going to be a new tradition.

It wasn't the darkness that surrounded him that started the terror, but the movement and noises of the residents beyond it. As he grew, the toys had

matured, and the locks became easier to pick with an old hairpin. He was meant to feel safe in the small room, but the stagnant air captured his breath in a chokehold.

Angry yelling, and then another voice screaming; a hand ripping the door open and tearing him out of the closet, dragging him into the room in the midst of her high.

He didn't recognize her expression, but the smirk distracted him from the bleary eyes of his mother.

Peter shuddered, pushing the rest of the memory out of his head, clutching the damp blanket. He swallowed back the bile in his throat and heaved quietly to get his breathing under control. He wanted to cry out—but he was afraid for Charlotte. Would her mother be the same way? He bit his lips harder as his heart slowed. He couldn't risk it.

Signaling the start of a new day, white rays began to stream through the crack in the door. Peter then realized he must have drifted off to sleep at some point during the night. He looked up to the ceiling, reaching to wipe away the sweat stuck to his forehead.

He moved forward to open the door but was interrupted by a noise down the hallway: a toilet flushing and a door opening. Again, the panic arose, and Peter made his way out of the closet. Deciding it would be a less obvious hiding spot, he dove and shimmied under Charlotte's bed behind the skirt, leaving the blanket and lion behind.

After finally getting a minute to catch her breath, Bella adjusted her ponytail and began to fill out portions of her patient 's chart. Looking up from her spot at the desk, she could see the emergency department was unusually slow. This was a good thing since today was the new MD's first day. Rumors spread like wildfire through the department that he was gorgeous and that the small-town hospital was destined to turn into an episode of Grey's Anatomy. Bella knew that working in the ED, she would most likely be seeing a lot of him.

She breathed a sigh of relief. It looked like after a few more rounds; she might actually be able to eat lunch in the cafeteria rather than in the on-call room.

Hearing the doors open, Bella glanced up from the chart. The pair walking through the hallway didn't seem to catch her eye at first, but she could

see that the one closet to her was Mike: her parking lot arch nemeses. It was hard to ignore him as his head swung in her direction and his eyes stayed glued. She rolled her eyes and adjusted her white coat, attempting to conceal whatever apparent view Mike was trying to poach off her. She went to turn her head, but that was before she caught sight of the man walking next to Mike.

Bella's clipboard slid off the desk, landing on the linoleum floor with a clang. The rumors were apparently true. Ignoring the snickers from the other nurses at the desk, Bella knelt down to retrieve her charts. She could feel the heat blazing her cheeks as she felt eyes on her. She began to collect the papers but was surprised when she took in the white jacket in front of her. Shit, this is just like Grey's Anatomy. She looked up, meeting a pair of dim, forest green eyes. Her own must have doubled in size, because the man's face stretched into a small crooked grin. His eyes still seemed distant, but brighter.

"I hate charting as much as the next person, but I don't think I've ever seen someone actually throw them on the floor in anger."

She laughed as his attempt to lighten the situation, feeling a small smile spread across her

face.

"Actually, the floor is just a bit slick, don't you think?" Bella gathered her papers, taking the ones he picked up, and clipped them to the board. He chuckled at her response, causing his tousled auburn hair to sway before his knees rose up off the floor. When he was standing, he reached a pale white hand out to her. She took it, ignoring her sudden rapid heartbeat.

"Don't those janitors know when to put up a wet floor sign?" His voice was light-hearted, but his eyes said something different. Something darker.

"Maybe we should have a word with them.

Thanks for your help. I'm Bella." "Anytime. I'm Edward."

It looked as though he was going to say something else before his companion interrupted him.

"Come on, man. I'll show you to the cafeteria before I need to go check on some patients. Hi Bella, wait for me in the deck later?" Mike ended the statement with his signature smirk.

"Newton, I'd rather jump off the deck," Bella narrowed her eyes, clutching the chart to her chest before smiling at the new M.D., "it was nice to meet you, Edward. I'm sure I will see you around."

She turned away, moving quickly around the corner to finish her paperwork. She was certain she heard a derogatory word echo off Newton's tongue.

The rain echoed on the windows in the kitchen as Charlotte stared out at the yellow playhouse. She felt bad as she noticed the high amount of rainwater flooding the grass surrounding it. Rain wasn't an uncommon thing, so she didn't worry about the playhouse; she worried for the boy inside of it. She hoped the roof wouldn't leak or the wind damage it.

The sizzle of bread hitting a frying pan behind her caused her to turn her head. Her grandma, Renee, had been well-briefed on Charlotte's disappearing act the prior day, so naturally, she wasn't letting Charlotte out of her sight near the kitchen doors.

"Grilled Cheese is almost done, Char. Get what you want to drink out the fridge so we can eat lunch." Her grandmother instructed, pulling the

bread from the steaming pan. A roar of thunder cracked across the sky as Charlotte took one last look at the playhouse through the glass doors. The pale yellow color contrasted harshly against the dark sky.

"So, Char, excited for your upcoming birthday?" Renee asked, pulling out the chair and setting the sandwiches on the table.

Reaching for a sandwich and shoving it in her mouth, Charlotte's eyes went wide. She nodded with a stuffed-cheek smile, "Yes, Grandmwa."

"Oh that's cute," laughed Renee as she rolled her eyes.

Charlotte and her grandmother sat in silence as they dug into the rest of their lunch. A full belly did nothing but add to her grogginess. Her late-night adventure was beginning to catch up with her.

Charlotte's eyes began to drift, and she had to make an obvious effort to keep them open as she finished her meal.

Renee smiled, taking her plate, "why don't you go on and take a nap upstairs, Charlotte?"

As the little girl made her way up the steps, Renee focused on washing the dishes from lunch. She was scrubbing the pan when a scream erupted from the top of the stairs.

The pan hadn't yet sunk to the bottom before Renee was on the move.