The light went out when the door closed.
Seven-year-old Ruby screamed.
“Stop!”
Her babysitter’s voice came through the door.
“Then learn to listen.”
Ruby grabbed the handle.
Locked.
The laundry room was tiny.
Washer.
Dryer.
Shelves.
No window.
“Please let me out.”
“You can come out when you stop crying.”
Ruby tried.
That was the impossible part.
Her parents thought nineteen-year-old Kelsey was wonderful.
She arrived early.
Cleaned the kitchen.
Helped Ruby with homework.
Sent smiling photos.
What they never saw were the games.
Silent chair.
No-water hour.
Dark room.
Kelsey called them consequences.
Ruby’s parents called her unusually well-behaved lately.
That night Ruby’s little brother Sam stood outside the laundry room.
He was four.
“Ruby?”
