I was back home. Nine years old and hunting for some sort of god in the dark closet I was locked inside. I didn’t know how long I’d been in there. Only that I was hungry, and the hollow feeling had become all-encompassing. It was a ravenous ache inside my belly, consuming, merciless, cruel. I could feel the ice in my fingers, my lips chapped and raw. The water bottle I’d stashed in here from the last time I’d been locked inside had long since been emptied. When my mouth moved my lips split and I tasted blood. The coats above me were my only company and I knew better than to pull them down to
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