How long will we be trapped here, anyway? What if the men don’t come back for days? Will we starve?

For a minute the room seems to spin.

No way. We can’t be stuck here. What are we going to do?

Shimmy looks so wide-eyed and frightened, it makes me snap out of my own shock and take charge of the situation, like he’s a lost kitten who needs taking care of. “Okay, we’re going to be fine. We’ll find a way out. Let’s just look around.”

We try the door again, then the window. The bars are solid; we can’t get out that way. There’s a small bathroom off the bedroom, but it has no windows.

“Maybe there’s some sort of tool we can use to break the door handle? Or a phone, or some way we can reach out for help….” I trail off as I think, but who would we even call? We’re locked in a strange house, I don’t even know the name of this neighborhood, let alone the street.

We could call Abba, my heart says, but my brain catches up a millisecond later. We can’t call Abba.

And I could never try Ima; she would panic, and she would have no idea what to do. Abba was always the strong protector in our family. Ima’s more like… like a delicate bird, gentle and fragile.

“Uh, not sure who we could actually call, but I guess we could at least let our families know we’re stuck…” I say, awkwardly.

Shimmy mutters something like, they probably won’t even notice I’m gone, and I notice his eyes go dark for a moment. I wonder what on earth he means. But I can’t seem to muster up the interest in pursuing the conversation.

I’m getting anxious now. If we don’t get out soon, if we’re stuck here overnight, maybe longer, Ima will be terrified. I mean, I imagine she would be. I’ve never disappeared before, so I can’t know for sure, but especially now, without Abba there to take charge of the situation, figure out a plan, and reassure her and the little girls…

My sisters. What would they think, that I just didn’t come home today? How long will we be trapped here, anyway? What if the men don’t come back for days? Will we starve?