She imagined screaming but was too petrified to make an actual sound. She pictured herself running behind the door so that when it swung open she would be partially concealed behind it. But her feet fastened to the ground like a slide on a microscope stage, held in place by unyielding metal clips. Her scream stuck between her throat and her mouth, closing off her trachea so she couldn’t breathe.
She watched the door swing toward her, clutched her phone as if it could ward off an attack. Blood drained from her head to her limbs, which still refused to move.
“What are you standing in the middle of the room for?”
At the sight of her roommate, Kennedy’s breath whooshed out of her lungs like wind through the subway tunnel. The paralyzing power of fear melted, and embarrassment hea……
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