Based on the Prompt: “Your character is stuck in the fridge! A bird is involved somehow.”
*I can’t move. I’m going to die.*
Abigail had remembered hearing about old refrigerators, the ones that latched from the outside. “Don’t go playing around in abandoned fridges,” her parents told her. “Or you’ll get trapped and suffocate.” Of course, she hadn’t seen a fridge like that since 1985, and that was in Grandma’s house. And Grandma was long gone.
But this wasn’t about Grandma. It was about Jay. Jay Caldwell had romanced, wined, and dined her all the way to the altar, and she had twenty-eight years to regret it. Nearly three decades of stale cigarettes on his breath and sharp venom in his voice, and the living hell of his fists and rage. But after their boy graduated, a thought began to enter her mind. Jay seemed to realize it as well, because he told her one thing.
“Hey, baby. If you leave, I’ll kill you.”
And so she left. Just took the old pickup and drove all the way to the police station. The cops were nice enough to help Abigail file a restraining order and make sure the truck was in her name, and that was that.
*This is it. I’m going to die. I can’t breathe.*
Except he found her anyway. Cornered her.
“You can’t do this. I have a restraining order,” she had said.
“You see any cops here, baby?” he had asked.
Suffocation. The acrid stench of chemicals. Pain. And then darkness. Now she couldn’t move and she was going to die.
*I have to try something. Nobody will ever find me if I die in a fridge. I’ll be trapped here forever. Rotting. Forgotten.*
No room inside the fridge. She could barely jostle herself enough to feel that the door was locked. But still she shoved against it, kicking fruitlessly. Trying. It was so stuffy in here – weren’t fridges airtight? How long did she have before the air ran out?
*Come on, Abby. Move.*
*Calm down!*
*Concentrate!*
Abigail stretched her fingers, pushing her hand to maximum distance from the fridge door. She steeled herself and struck against solid, unyielding steel. Only the rattling of the door against its locked latch and the hinges greeted her. She hit again, and again, and again,
And again
Again
Screaming
Nothing.
*I can’t do this. I could never do this. It’s all over. Why did I even leave Jay. I should have known that he–*
*–Why did the door rattle if it was airtight?*
*Fridges haven’t had those latches in decades. Maybe this one was broken. That sounded like a padlock rattling.*
Now hammering, now pounding, now punching and kicking, now screaming until her voice cracked and her breath felt ready to give out.
*I can breathe! It’s not airtight! Maybe – maybe the door! The hinges! Maybe I can break something!*
Struck until her knuckles were bloody. Kicked until she broke a toe. Pounded on the metal, her voice cracking, her face red, stars in her eyes. The sturdy padlock which held the refrigerator shut rattled with each impact, solid and cold steel that would not be broken.
*I*
*WILL*
*NOT*
*DIE*
*!!!*
One last punch broke the rusty hinge latching the door shut, making the padlock useless. The fridge door swung open now, broken and useless, and Abigail Caldwell tumbled out, landing face-first in the leaf-covered dirt, still screaming and crying. Trees surrounded her on all sides, pleasant forest sunlight filtered through branches and twigs cast the scene in appalling serenity.
Jay sat nearby on the bed of the old pickup, smoking one of his smelly cigarettes and watching her dispassionately.
“Yeah, I thought I’d stick around ‘til you stopped screaming,” he drawled. “Aint nobody gonna look inside an old fridge in the woods, you know?”
Still lying in the dirt and still gasping for breath, Abigail looked up at her ex-husband.
“You tried to murder me!” she rasped.
“Nah,” Jay chuckled as he hopped to his feet, reaching for something behind him in the truck bed. “It ain’t a murder ‘cause you ain’t people.”
He hefted a sledgehammer and brandished it as he approached in light, casual steps.
“You’re mine, baby. Always was, always will be. Shoulda thought of that before you left. I guess I got nothing more to say.”
*This is it. Now I’m really going to die.*
Something possessed Abigail – something similar to the same spirit that got her punching and clawing her way out of the fridge. She launched herself from a prone position, tackling Jay’s ankles as the hammer swung down, burying itself in the leafy soil so close to her face that she felt the dirt splatter on her temple.
“Woah!” Jay exclaimed, cigarette dropping from his mouth as he overbalanced and stumbled. “Hold on, now!”
Abby had none of it. She pulled hard on Jay’s legs as he tried to move back and tripped him, sending him falling to the ground where he slammed against a rock.
“Shit! My arm!” he shouted as he rolled away from her, clutching his shoulder.
Operating purely on instinct, Abigail did not have time to consciously choose her actions as she grabbed the hammer and hauled herself to her feet, swaying as she lifted it above her head. One coherent thought filled her mind, and it almost gave her pause.
*Wow, this thing is really heavy.*
Jay looked up just in time to see the heavy sledgehammer descend.
“Baby?”
Abby drove home as the sun set behind her, hands shaking against the wheel of the old pickup as she continued to heave dry sobs of terror and relief.
*It’s over. You’re alive. He’s gone. He’s not gonna chase you again.*
She could still see it. Whenever she closed her eyes, she would always see it. Everything that had been done to her. Everything she had done. But there was one comfort.
* No one has to know. Ain’t nobody gonna look inside an old fridge in the woods.*