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She stopped at her parents’ bedroom and knocked on the door. When she didn’t hear an answer, she frowned, noting that no light shone under the door. Surely they were home. The garage door had been closed, and she hadn’t thought to check to see if her dad’s SUV was parked inside.
She turned the doorknob and opened the door. The stench of something raw and wild hit her like a violent wave. Breath catching in her lungs, she took a step back. What the—?
Reaching for the wall light switch, she flipped it on and faced a nightmare of horrors. Blood everywhere. Everywhere! The walls, the ceiling.
Barely able to comprehend the scene, she took in the morass in the center of the room. The people on the bed were unrecognizable. Her mind refused to accept that they were her parents. They couldn’t be. This. Could. Not. Be. Happening! She felt a scream inside her, boiling to get out, but she couldn’t make a sound. She was frozen, not breathing. Unable to think.
How long she stood there she would never know. She didn’t hear him behind her. It hadn’t registered that anyone else was in the house. Something hard started to wrap around her waist. Lucy looked down to see a long arm, hairy and saturated in blood, slowly snaking around her body. She was pulled back into a hard chest, and a man with fetid breath whispered hotly into her ear, “Hello, Lucy. I’ve been waiting for you.”
Run!
Her body screamed at her to move, her sluggish mind urged her to get up. This was her chance…maybe her last chance. He was asleep. She could hear him snoring in the next room. And he was drunk. If she was lucky, he’d be unconscious for several more hours.
Lucky? She swallowed a bitter laugh. There was no such thing. For her, there was only survival.
She gazed down at her hands, barely comprehending that they were her own. They were bloody, nails ripped to the quick, wrists bruised and scratched. She had fought him—at least she’d had that. She had fought and she had lost.
Hopelessness overwhelmed her. Closing her eyes, she sank deeper into her corner. Maybe it was better this way. She had no one—she was nothing. He had taken everything from her. What was the point in going on? Maybe he would just kill her. Maybe she would let him. She wouldn’t keep fighting him. When his big hands wrapped around her neck again, she would let him do what he wanted. She almost hadn’t come back the last time. Maybe she wouldn’t next time.
She didn’t know how long she’d been here. Weeks. Maybe months. Time had become an endless nightmare of pain and degradation. Everything she had loved, everyone she had loved, was gone. If she closed her eyes and concentrated hard, she could still see her mom’s sweet smile, see her dad’s face light up with laughter. Those memories were fading though. Lately those images were superimposed with the brutal, vile memories of her parents’ lying in rivers of blood.
Her heart cried out at the injustice, at the cruelty. They had never hurt anyone, had been the best, most loving parents in the world. Why had this happened to them? It wasn’t fair!
How she missed them…oh sweet Lord, how she missed them. She would never get the chance again to tell them how much she loved them. How grateful she was for them. Or how very sorry she was for behaving so selfishly at the restaurant. If only she had one more chance. But she didn’t. All her chances had disintegrated.
Oblivion beckoned. Death held out its arms, offering a comforting embrace. A sweet release from the pain. From the heartache. She closed her eyes…sinking, sinking…
Lucy jerked awake with a gasp. Her eyes darted around the room. What was that? Was he awake? Was he coming for her? How long had she been unconscious? Why hadn’t she run when she’d had the chance? She didn’t want to die. She wanted to live. She wanted to make this bastard pay. The only way to do that was to run, get help. They would find him, and they would punish him for what he’d done. To her parents. To her.
The small, dark room gave her no answers. Stinking of mildew and rotted food, the room had been her only scenery since he’d brought her here. The lone window across from her was a small one that had been boarded up years ago. The wood was old and rotting but had held firm against her pitiful efforts to remove it. She had spent hours trying to pry even one board loose, with no results other than splinters and bloody fingers.
She hadn’t heard any outside sounds, but the room was solidly built. Maybe even soundproof. She had no idea if she was in the middle of a city or in a forest, miles from civilization. She’d heard no noises. Even if she got out, would anyone be around to help her?
One thing was for sure: If she didn’t get out, she wouldn’t survive. And she wanted to live. She would live and make this monster pay for everything he’d taken from her, everything he’d done.
Going to her knees, she summoned the strength she would need. Every part of her body cried out for her to stop. It hurt too much! Cuts, barely healed, popped open, warm blood oozed down her torso, her legs. When she grimaced with pain, the cuts on her cheek tore open. Would she bleed to death before she found help? Was there any point in even trying to escape?
She shut down the doubts. She couldn’t…she wouldn’t stop. She had to get out of here. If it was the last thing she did, she had to at least try.
Dragging herself to her feet
, she leaned against the wall to catch her breath. Minimal food and water had left her depleted, incredibly weak. The blood loss hadn’t helped. None of those things mattered…she couldn’t let any of that stop her.
Her hands unsteady, she carefully slid her wrists from the cuffs. Not only had he grown lax, sure that she could never escape him, she had discovered that she’d lost so much weight, the cuffs were much looser. With an enormous amount of tugging and pulling, plus the slickness of blood from her raw skin, she had been able to slide out of them. When he’d come in to check on her earlier, she’d hurriedly put them on again.
Now, she laid them on the floor, taking care to not let them clank together. She straightened to stand, and a wave of dizziness swept through her. Clutching at the wall, she held on until the room righted itself. Breath gasped out of her lungs, and she realized that part of her dizziness had been from holding her breath.
Shivering, she looked down at the thin, white T-shirt she was wearing. He’d thrown it at her a few days ago when she’d told him she was cold. It hadn’t been clean then and was now even worse. Stained with blood, sweat, and other bodily fluids she didn’t want to think about, it stank, as did she. That couldn’t be helped. She couldn’t take the time to look for anything warmer or fresher. She had to get out of here.
Speed and stealth were of equal importance. He could wake at any moment. Just because he was drunk didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt her. Some of her most vicious beatings had come during his drunken episodes.
How had she never known people like him existed? Her parents had been both amazing and lovingly protective. She had read about monsters like this bastard in news stories, but they had been about other people. She had lived a charmed life, never really acknowledging that true evil existed or that it could touch her.
Feeling as awkward as an infant learning to walk, Lucy wobbled her way to the door. He had come in to check on her earlier and had forgotten to turn the lock when he left. When she hadn’t heard that familiar click, she had known this was her chance. Her first one in weeks. She couldn’t mess this up. She might never get another one.
Holding her breath again, she put her ear to the door. Yes, he was still sleeping. Deeply this time. The snoring had softened, and his breathing was shallow. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t wake at the slightest noise. She’d learned, to her detriment, that he was a light sleeper even when he drank himself into a stupor.
She eased the door open. He was on the sofa. Though it was all the way across the room and she could see only the sofa’s back from this angle, a limp, booted foot hung over the armrest.
