Read Online Read It and Weep! by P.J. Night - Free Book Online Page A

Charlotte,” she said. “I’m on bus duty this afternoon. What do you need?”
    â€œJust returning the DVD,” said Charlotte.
    â€œLovely.” She took the DVD and scanned it into the system, and then handed it back to Charlotte. “Can you put it in the AV room on the ‘To be Reshelved’ cart? I’m late already. Then be sure to lock the door when you leave—DVDs have a way of walking off!”
    Charlotte promised she would, and Mrs. Barber hurried away.
    The light switch was outside the room. Charlotte flicked it on and walked in, threading her way through carts of projectors and televisions toward the back wall, where the DVDs were kept. She’d just set the DVD on the cart when her phone buzzed. It was a text.
    I told you to pass it on.
    Her stomach dropped and a bolt of fear shot through her. She was still staring at the text on her phone when the door suddenly swung closed. Then the light went out.
    â€œHey!” yelled Charlotte, moving toward the door and immediately bashing her hip against a rolling cart. “Ow! Hey! I’m in here!” Her voice came out thin and high and panicky.
    Whoever had closed the door either didn’t hear her, or ignored her.
    It was pitch-dark. Like black construction paper. No light whatsoever.
    â€œDon’t panic,” Charlotte muttered to herself, but already she could feel her heart racing, her palms sweating. “Just get to the door. Open the door. Everything will be fine.”
    Then she remembered her cell phone. She could use it as a flashlight! With trembling hands she clicked it on. A dim but usable light emanated from its screen, allowing her to see her path to the door. She held it up with a shaky hand, so it could illuminate her way.
    And promptly dropped the phone.
    She heard it clatter and skitter across the floor. Its dim light vanished, and now she was back in the dark. She dropped to her hands and knees, still wearing her heavy backpack, which shifted around and almost made her fall over. She readjusted it and then felt around, patting every inch of the floor in search of the phone. Her breathing was shallow, her heart pounding in her ears. She tried not to think of that day, so many years ago, when she’d felt the hand on her shoulder. But of course, she did think of it. Why did her mind go directly to the memories she most wanted to forget? Like when you have a sore inside your mouth and your tongue insists on prodding that sore place.
    Her hand closed around the phone. With a surge of relief, she clicked it on.
    Nothing happened.
    Had she broken it when she’d dropped it? That ruled out any possibility of calling someone to come rescue her. But that was silly anyway. All she had to do was get to the door without having a full-blown panic attack. She kept moving forward on hands and knees, negotiating her way around rolling carts and tangles of heavy wires. And then she could see light shining underneath the heavy door.
    She stood up, moved toward the door, and felt where the doorknob was.
    It didn’t budge.
    She was locked in.
    A new wave of panic surged through her, all the way down to her toes. She pounded on the door with the heel of her hand.
    â€œHelp!” she yelled. “Someone let me out of here! Hello? Anyone there?”
    The janitor must have come by and locked up, she reasoned. What if she was here all night? What if Mrs. Barber didn’t return to the library after her bus duty? What if this room was completely soundproof? Then she remembered it was Friday. What if she was stuck here all weekend?
    She pounded harder, trying not to cry.
    â€œSomeone! Help!” More pounding. Rattling of the knob. “I’m locked in here! Help! Hello?”
    More pounding. More frantic rattling. The lump in her throat felt like a golf ball. Her pulse was racing. She pounded until her hands went numb, expecting at any second to feel the hand on her shoulder.
    And that’s when