“Ethan! This isn’t funny! Open the door!”

Nothing.

I stood there for a moment, listening. I could hear muffled voices, laughter, and the unmistakable sound of basketball commentary blaring from the TV.

My jaw clenched tightly. His friends were here. Of course, those morons were here. He brought them over after I told him not to.

And he locked me in the basement.

The minutes dragged on, stretching into an hour. I tried yelling, pounding on the door, literally anything to get someone’s attention.

But it was no use.

Ethan was there, with his buddies, watching the game and totally ignoring me. I had no phone, no way to call for help. I was stuck.

After what felt like an eternity, the door finally clicked open. There stood Ethan, looking sheepish but casual, like he’d just made a minor mistake.

“Oh, Dani! There you are!” he said with a fake laugh. “I didn’t know you were down here! I must have locked it by accident. You know, it’s a habit to keep the basement door locked.”

“An accident?” I repeated, my blood boiling.

“Yeah, I didn’t hear you, Dani,” he grinned.

My husband walked into the living room, and I saw that his friends were still there, lounging on the couch. There were beer bottles everywhere, empty chip packets, and two empty barrels of fried chicken. The game was over, and the TV screen showed the winning team celebrating.

Of course, he hadn’t heard me. He wanted me down there.

“Sorry, babe,” Ethan said. “The chicken is finished. But I can make you a toasted cheese sandwich. Or do eggs on toast or something?”

Without another word, I brushed past him and headed straight upstairs.

I wasn’t going to interact with Ethan’s friends. I wasn’t going to give Ethan the time of day. I was furious, but I knew better than to yell. Ethan wouldn’t understand, not right then. No, he’d feel bad for a moment, sure, but in the end, he’d just make more excuses.

Instead, I waited. I plotted.

A few nights later, after Ethan had passed out in bed, already snoring softly, I crept out of our bedroom. Quietly, I went downstairs and pulled out a small tank I’d gotten from my brother earlier in the day.

Inside were two small, non-venomous snakes.

Ethan hated snakes. He was absolutely terrified of them, and my brother loved them. When I told him what Ethan had done, he was more than willing to get on board with my plan.

“My babies will get the job done, Sis,” he said.

I opened the bedroom door just wide enough to slip the snakes inside. They slithered across the carpet, disappearing into the darkness. Then, I stepped out and locked the door from the outside.

It was poetic.

Once everything was in place, I went downstairs and settled on the couch with a blanket. I dialed Ethan’s number and let it ring, waking him up.

“What?” he asked, his voice groggy and annoyed.

I smiled to myself, staring up at the ceiling.

“You might want to wake up,” I said.

“What are you talking about? Where are you?”

“There’s something in the room with you,” I said calmly. “A couple of things, actually.”

“What did you do?” Ethan shouted.

I heard a thud and then a sharp gasp.

“Oh my God, what the actual… Danielle! Get me out of here! Danielle, what the hell is in here?”

I could almost see him, thrashing around in the dark, terrified. It felt good; finally, he was the one locked up, feeling helpless.

“Danielle!” he screamed loudly. “Please, babe! Please! I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that! Please get me out!”

I let him sweat for a while, listening to his pleas. He sounded truly pathetic. After about two hours of listening to him beg, I finally walked back upstairs.

I opened the door and found my husband standing in the middle of the bed.

“Try a move like that again,” I said. “And you’ll be out of my house and my life before you know it.”

What would you have done?