“Let me out of here!” I yelled, banging on the door.
She didn’t turn back. I watched in horror as her retreating figure kept laughing at me.
I turned the door handle but it didn’t budge. My shoes were slowly getting submerged in urine now.
I tried to make a call to Anthony, but there was no service in the bathroom.
I was left all alone, with the horrifying confession of how Naomi had killed my daughter. And right there, I vowed to make them all pay.
I spent the night in that filthy bathroom, propped up on the sink, so my feet wouldn’t be submerged in the dirty water.
The windows were locked, so I had to inhale the smell all night. I kept checking my phone, but the signal never returned.
At 9am the next morning, the door finally opened, and the janitor from the previous night stared at me open-mouthed.
I was weak and almost passed out from the smell.
“Goodness, ma’am, were you in here all night?”
I nodded weakly.
He helped me out of the bathroom and I had never been more grateful for clean fresh air. I started coughing violently, and it felt like I would throw up at any second.
He helped me over to a chair and made me sit down. “Take a seat, I’ll call an ambulance.”
“No!” I stopped him. “I’m fine. Thank you. I just need to get home.”
“Are you sure? You need to get checked.”
“I’m okay, thank you.”
I didn’t wait for him to argue further. I headed straight for the door. People closed their noses and shook their heads as I passed them, but I couldn’t even be bothered. I had to get home.
When I finally got home, it didn’t even look like anybody had noticed I didn’t come back last night.
Julian was on the couch watching a show when I walked in. He looked up. “Why isn’t there breakfast on the table yet?”
“I’m not your maid, Julian.”
He scrunched his nose. “What is that smell?”
I ignored him and walked past him. I didn’t have time for him. I had bigger fish to fry. I went straight to the bathroom and scrubbed myself clean. Then I simply walked to the kitchen and made myself a cup of coffee.
By the time Isaac came downstairs, coffee was already on the table — and so were the papers.
“Can you sign these?” I asked in a calm voice. “They’re for approval to remake our daughter’s headstone. The old one cracked.”
He barely looked up. “Now? I’m late.”
“It’ll only take a moment.”
He looked like he wanted to disagree, but then his phone lit up with a phone call.