Storming Heaven by Kyle Mills Page A

explanation, she would rise and walk slowly to the doorless bathroom at the otherside of the room, splash water on her face, and stare at the empty wall above the sink.
    Finally, she would look down at herself. At the short white T-shirt and cotton panties that were the only clothes provided for her. At the unnaturally pale hue her skin had taken on.
    She would let her fingers trace the outlines of the fading green-brown bruises that had adorned her body in various configurations since she had taken up mountain biking. Then she would return to the twin bed and sit with her back against the wall and stare at the empty room, eventually sinking to the mattress and into something that felt more like a trance than sleep. When she awoke, there would be a plate of food, a towel, and a clean T-shirt and pair of underpants by the door.
    She had no idea how long she’d been alone in this room. The difference between day and night was just a flick of a light switch and there had been no sounds emanating from behind the heavy wooden door that led to … where?
    Sometimes the feeling that she was caught in a cube in the middle of an empty desert plain overwhelmed her. She would become panicked that one day the person silently depositing her meals would lose interest and she would die alone and hungry, never knowing what had happened to her and to her family. Or worse, that the meals would continue to silently appear forever, leaving her to drown in loneliness and confusion.
    At first the quiet clink of metal against metal didn’t sound real. Just another trick played by her mind. When it came again, though, she struggledback to a sitting position. The heavy knob on the door jiggled almost imperceptibly.
    It was real.
    She pressed her back against the wall and drew her knees to her chest, feeling the numbness and despair that had become oddly comforting in their familiarity wash away in a flood of adrenaline.
    Could it be her father? Of course, it must be. He’d finally come for her. It had all been a fever-induced dream. And now she was better.
    The door opened slowly as Jennifer slid to the edge of the bed and began to stand, wanting nothing more than to be folded in her dad’s arms and to be told that she was okay now and going home.
    “Jennifer.”
    She fell back onto the bed, legs pedaling desperately in the tangle of sheets until her back slammed against the wall. It was her. The woman who had made her father go crazy. The woman who had been sitting at the edge of her bed staring into the dark while she slept.
    Jennifer kicked at the air weakly in an effort to keep the woman away, to no effect. She easily caught one of Jennifer’s ankles and threw her legs to the side.
    “Be still,” the woman said, grabbing the back of her hair. Out of the corner of her eye, Jennifer saw a man with a thick black mustache pull the door closed, leaving them alone.
    Jennifer could feel the woman’s eyes boring into her and tried to turn away, but the woman’s grip on her hair kept her head immobile. “No, you look at me, Jennifer. Look at me.”
    Jennifer wanted to push her away, but she feltweak, confused. Like she was floating in a current that was impossible to fight.
    “Do you know what’s happened?” the woman said.
    Jennifer opened her mouth, but she hadn’t spoken in so long and she was so afraid, her throat felt paralyzed.
    “Do you know what’s happened?”
    “I don’t know,” Jennifer got out.
    “Yes you do. Tell me.”
    The images of her parents’ death that seemed to have finally begun to fade suddenly returned to her with devastating clarity. “My parents,” she stammered. “They’re … gone.”
    “That’s right, Jennifer. They’re dead. And you know how, don’t you. Tell me how.”
    Jennifer threw her arms over her face and felt the tears begin to flow down her temples. “No,” she sobbed. “No, don’t make me.”
    The woman pulled Jennifer’s arms away from her face and tightened her grip on her