Night Journey by Goldie Browning

in despair, bracing her hands on the sink. Her knees felt as if they would give way. She sank down onto the white-tiled floor and began to sob. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks and she held her throbbing head between her hands. She closed her eyes, feeling utterly miserable and alone. Her pills were gone forever, but the agony remained to torment her.
    The creaking of a door in the next room fractured the silence. Emma lifted her head and stared with bleary eyes, wondering if—no, praying that Zan had come back early to their room. She hoisted herself up off the floor and crept out of the bathroom. The door to the hallway was still closed and locked.
    Disappointed, she scanned the parlor and saw that the tiny door in the wall hung partially open. A sense of desolation swept over her when a voice inside her head began to berate her. You are worthless—defective—barren. You promised him you would give him children. But you can’t do it, can you? The ring should go to Phoebe, not you. It must be passed on. He’s too good for you. You’re nothing but a little throw-away who got lucky. You don’t deserve to be loved by a man like Zan. The world would be better off without you.
    Like a zombie she turned and walked back to the bathroom. She stared at the ring, glittering brightly beneath the incandescent light. She felt cold and numb and dead as she picked it up and carried it into the parlor. The voice echoed in her head.
    Just throw it away—throw it away—throw it away!
    Shuffling toward the little door she reached out and pulled it open wider. The voice screeched louder and her headache intensified. If only if would stop screaming at her!
    She couldn’t stand it any more.
    She stared sadly into the dark hole in the wall, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. The ring fell from her fingers onto the floor.
    The discordant sound of crazed laughter reverberated through Emma’s head, raging against the rhythm of her heartbeat. The stench of disinfectant swirled in the air and burned her nostrils. The temperature plummeted.
    She trembled when a shadow in the corner advanced toward her, growing with each step, taking the form of the nurse she had grown to dread. She cowered, rooted to the spot, unable to move.
    The terrifying specter stopped and stared. Emma shriveled inwardly at the scrutiny, but was powerless to move or even to blink. The room was as still and as quiet as a tomb. No sound emanated from the ghost, but Emma could hear the awful voice in her mind.
    Climb inside the door. Nobody will ever find you in there. You can just curl up and hide—and die. That’s what you really want to do, isn’t it? Just go to sleep and never wake up. Go ahead—do it—do it!
    The wraith’s eyes glittered and her lips twisted into a grimace. She pointed to the door in the wall and it slowly opened wider. Emma watched in horror as the ghastly nurse snatched up her ring and then hurled it through the door. Emma’s anguish peaked and shattered the last shreds of her control.
    “No! Not Zan’s ring!” Emma screamed. She fell to her knees and began searching frantically for the ring, with her head and shoulders just inside the door. The evil nurse cackled and then a massive force lifted her up and slammed her whole body face first into the hole.
    As soon as she was inside, the door slammed shut.
    The darkness was absolute; a horrifying oubliette.
    Dust choked her and she couldn’t stop coughing. Crawling on hands and knees, she searched desperately for a way out of the prison. She screamed and banged on the door, but she couldn’t get it to budge. Nobody could hear her. She felt as if she was buried alive.
    She gasped, panting in terror. She felt dizzy. Then, realizing she was hyperventilating, she tried to calm herself and think of a way out of her predicament. Her head throbbed again, but she pushed the pain from her mind. She had more important things to worry about now.
    She stood up straight and her bare foot