I sat in the closet with my knees pressed against my breasts. The slight jingle of keys could be heard at the front door. I knew she was home, it was five minutes to five; her routine was consistent. I felt my short hot breaths bouncing off the closet space making it feel more cramped and illogically small, since i had the ability to stretch my legs out without obstruction. The door creaked and I heard her heels dance with the ceramic tile in the foyer. She was in  a good mood humming and whistling to a tune only she knew; but I knew that wouldnt last for long. She'll walk in, set her keys down on the  side table, take her heels off one by one, set them in the small compartments in the closet she purchased at Target with individual labels that read "Slippers", "Day Shoes" or "Guests". She'd walk into the kitchen, take out a glass from the dishwasher and pour a glass of red wine, for the "antioxidents". Then it'll hit her, "Where's Carrie?" "Why isn't she in the kitchen doing her homeowrk or starting dinner?" Her internal questions will turn to fury as she realizes I'm not in her categorized places she has determined for me on Tuesday evenings. I heard and felt all this happen as she yelled my name, "Carrie Ann!" Her voice travelled from the kitchen to the upstairs closet in the hallway where I hid. "Carrie Ann, Where are you, girl?" I pulled my legs closer to my chest and put my head down. I began to breathe heavily as my ear drums shook with her search. I could hear her rustle through the house looking for me. I tried to calm down but I felt a panic attack rise and rise with her search. Her stocking feet glidded across the floor but beat with a deep percussion as she stomped her feet in anger up the stairs still calling my name, "Carrie Ann! Carrie Ann! You hear me!"  I heard her go into my room, I know because I have a string of bells on the handle that banged with authority as she burst into my room with her search. And that's when I knew she had seen it. She let out a deep gasp followed by a short grunt of anger. "How dare you, Carrie Ann! How dare you bring this in my house?" I scooched back in the closet and hit the suits she had hanging there by color and length. I stopped moving when I heard her reatreat. "Carrie Ann, where did you get this?" I could hear her shaking it in her hands, probably wanting to smash it against he wall but at the same time curbing her anger so as to not damage the new floral wallpaper she had installed in the hallway two weeks ago.