"The last family dinner I attended ended with me locked in my aunt’s upstairs bathroom for nearly three hours.

By nine o'clock, the noise downstairs had begun to shift. The sharp clatter of dessert plates yielded to the softer, heavier sounds of post-dinner languor. The dining room chairs scraped back. The heavy oak door leading to the garden was opened, bringing in the smell of damp earth and tobacco smoke as Uncle Robert and her father stepped outside.

Hannah’s phone battery was dead. It had clicked off twenty minutes ago, leaving her in total silence except for the drone of the exhaust fan.

She began her inventory.

In her handbag, she found a small bottle of hand sanitizer, three loose mints, her keys, her wallet, and a long, silk scarf she had brought in case the evening turned chilly. In the cabinet beneath the sink, beyond the plastic bags and half-empty bottles of bleach, she found a spare bath towel—thick, cream-colored, and large enough to wrap entirely around her waist.

She took her ruined trousers and wrapped them tightly inside two plastic bags, knotting the handles securely. Then, using her silk scarf, she bound the heavy cream towel around her waist, tying it into a tight, desperate knot at her hip. It looked ridiculous—a makeshift, bulky skirt that hung unevenly over her bare legs—but it was coverage. It was dignity, or at least the nearest approximation she could assemble from her aunt’s linen closet.

She unbolted the bathroom door. The click sounded like a gunshot in the narrow hallway.

Hannah stood in the doorway, listening. Downstairs, her mother was singing along softly to a track playing on the living room speakers. Her brother was arguing good-naturedly about football with her cousin.

She moved down the hallway, keeping her back pressed against the wall, taking slow, deliberate steps to prevent the floorboards from creaking. Every step required an immense effort of will; her abdomen throbbed with a persistent, dull ache, and her knees felt hollow.

She reached the top of the stairs. From here, she could see a slice of the entrance hall and the warm, golden light spilling out from the dining room archway. Her coat was hanging on the rack right next to the front door. Her boots were neatly lined up underneath it.