Amber stared at the lock on the door.

Downstairs she heard her mother shouting.
“Stay away from Amber!” she yelled. “I won’t let you touch her again!” Amber could hear the fear in her mother’s voice; could imagine her mother’s tears as she heard the clunk of her mother’s back as it hit the wall.

Amber kept staring at the lock on the door.

She knew her mother wasn’t awake now, that her brother was waiting by the bottom of the stairs, ready to advance one creaky step at a time. He enjoyed hearing her suffering. It’s why he locked the door.

But Amber kept staring at the lock on the door.

The first step creaked but Amber knew – she just knew – that if she stared long enough, that lock would open.

Amber poured all her energy into focusing on that lock, and slowly it pushed out the key with a clink, then clicked the lock into the wood.
She grasped the knob, then, as her brother put his foot on the last step, she ran for the open window at the end of the hall, not caring what awaited when she hit the ground.