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I shiver and regain my wits. There’s a neat shoe stand beside the front door.
There it is. I can say I’m freezing and need something to cover my feet.
Scanning the stand makes my heart drop. All men’s shoes. I guess they don’t let the maid leave very often – which is a whole other level of terrifying. Being stuck here forever.
My eyes brighten when I notice a pair of fuzzy slippers under the stand. I toe one of them out and slip it on. Ridiculous-looking, sure. But it’ll have to do.
Act cool, I tell myself, thinking of anything but opening the front door. I imagine a thousand sensors going off and a half-dozen undocumented guns pointed at me. It’s not something I want to go through after one of the most traumatic days of my life.
My stomach rumbles. When was the last time I’d had anything to eat? Nerves make it feel like days. The kitchen cabinets are enticing all of a sudden.
Stop it, Ellie.
Every moment I waste stagnant, is one I risk getting caught.
I need to leave. Now.
When I inch toward the door, the autumn breeze feels frigid on the other side. It makes me second-guess everything.
Just go back upstairs and roll the dice, I tell myself. At least it’s warm. You can try again tomorrow when you find a sweater and get some food in you.
The reminiscent touch of Gio trumps all, however. I can feel his calloused skin running up my leg all over again. The old bag could visit tomorrow… His slimy hands might make it everywhere they want to next go-round.
Resolve and courage form into one meaningful lunge, and when I hear no chime or tripped wire, I know I’m free.
The air is cold, and I breathe it all in while carefully shutting the door. Then I run for my life. As fast as these floppy slippers will let me at any rate.
I’m scared I’ll trip, but once I find my footing, I smile.
What’s a few scrapes? I tell myself, almost laughing once I reach the dark trees.
I don’t dare turn back. These first minutes are crucial. I’m kicking up too many leaves and making too much noise. Still need more distance from the safe house.
Twigs snap underfoot – a stray branch scrapes my arm that I ignore. All I can hear is the sound of my panting breath.
I’m free.
After a few more minutes, I finally slow to a tired walk. I’m breathing like I ran a marathon, and the cold air burns my throat. Exposed ankles and arms are already numbing.
It’s okay, I tell myself. It’s not like I’ll freeze to death in autumn.
I twist my arm to inspect the scrape. Not so bad.
Snap.
My breath catches in my chest. Something else broke that branch. Something heavy enough to harm me.
I turn frantically to rustling leaves, but see nothing.
Just the wind.
I put a hand to my chest and sigh at my own paranoia.
My freeing giggle returns when I think of how ridiculous I am.
“Mmp!”
I turn around again to a huge black shadow looming over me, my mouth covered.
