Locked Out of Warmth

I clutched my chest and struggled to breathe.

Through the door, I could hear them fussing over Trevor.

"Living in the new condo near your prep school means you can sleep an extra half hour every morning. Give that final exam everything you've got, Trevor!"

"Only two months left. I canceled Micah's private tutoring and put the money toward better meals for you!"

I no longer had the strength to care about their usual favoritism. I only kept pounding on the sauna door.

"Dad, Mom, help me... My heart hurts so badly..."

Mom's cold voice came through the door.

"It's supposed to hurt! Who do you think you are, showing off in front of Trevor?"

Dad sounded angry, though a trace of concern entered his voice.

"Will he really be all right locked in there alone? A heart attack could actually kill him..."

Dad seemed to be wavering, and I was about to beg again when Trevor's gentle voice cut in.

"Uncle Richard, he'll be fine. The sauna is only set to seventy-nine degrees. That's practically room temperature."

My eyes widened.

Impossible. He was lying.

The floor was already burning my feet. There was no way it was only seventy-nine degrees.

The heat around me sliced across my skin like knives. When I forced my head up, I saw the temperature glowing on the sauna display.

One hundred forty degrees.

Dad thought I was lying for sympathy. In his anger, he cranked the temperature up another eighteen degrees.

"Another lie! When will you learn to be half as sensible as Trevor?

"Stay in there and think about what you've done. This is your punishment for lying all the time."

Then the three of them climbed into the car and drove toward the condo near Trevor's school, ignoring every cry I made.

At one hundred fifty-eight degrees, I could barely draw breath.

My heart felt trapped inside an invisible fist, and the heart-rate alert on my smartwatch began sounding again and again.

I used every bit of strength I had left to crawl toward the wall.

There was a large air vent there that could give me a little room to breathe.

My parents had installed it when I was young because they feared I might wander inside and become trapped.

I couldn't understand why they had become completely different people after Trevor moved into our home.

They tore apart the piano room they had designed for me and made me sleep in a storage room.

They burned every family photograph that included me, then posed for picture after picture with Trevor.

And because Trevor was afraid of dogs, they even buried alive the three puppies they had once bought to make me happy.

Before him, they had held me with indulgent smiles and called me their precious boy, the greatest treasure of their lives.

I was crying and nearly drifting unconscious when my smartwatch alarm jolted me awake.

Someone had blocked the air vent.

Once again, I opened my mouth like a fish stranded on dry land, desperately trying to breathe.

A moment later, my phone rang. It was Dad.

The device was so hot it felt ready to burst, but survival instinct made me grip it tightly and answer at once.