I know how to fight and keep fighting. I could outlast him.
I dug my heels even farther into the ground. Digging deeper trenches into the dirt as he pulled me along, grunting and heaving hard. Maybe my shoes were leaving pieces of me behind in the dirt. A trail of evidence so people could find me. They had to be looking for me by now.
The cabin was crouched at the edge of a clearing and swallowed up by huge, towering pine trees. The windows were dark and grimy like they hadn’t been cleaned for years. The porch steps leaned, crooked and half rotted, covered in cobwebs. The railing split. A single bulb hung over the door and cast the entry in a sick yellow halo.
For the first time, I really looked around at our surroundings. I recognized the mountains and the water in the background. I knew exactly where we were.
Big Bear Lake.
My aunt Georgia had a cabin on the south side when I was growing up, and my family used it as an escape from all the madness and stress of Los Angeles every summer. I’d spent weeks here since I was six. Memories of the hikes that lasted forever and the smell of campfires around the lake rushed through me, unbidden. Quickly followed by the crushing blow that my safe place had turned into my worst nightmare.
The man forced me up the rickety stairs. They sagged under the pressure of our feet. He kicked the door open and I clawed at the doorframe as he tried to shove me inside. I knew I couldn’t fight him off, but I was hoping my fingernails scraped the wood and left more traces of me behind. He quickly ripped me free and shoved me over the threshold.
Everything inside me shrank as he slammed the door behind us, and the cabin swallowed me whole.
Chapter Three
His hollow eyes raked me up and down. He was still wearing a ski mask.
Please don’t let him rape me. Please don’t let him rape me.
My mantra looped over and over again as I lay curled on the thin mattress shoved into the corner of the cabin, pretending to sleep. It wasn’t even a bed. Just a slab of foam on the floor, rank with mildew. No sheets. Only a scratchy blanket and flat pillow. I could feel the wooden floorboards underneath me. Smell the dust.
He finally turned around and walked over to stare out the tiny window above the sink. I breathed a sigh of relief and quickly scanned the cabin. It was a single room—maybe five hundred feet, tops—and I could see all of it from where I lay. It was bare bones. One of those fishing cabins built for weekends when men wanted to disappear from their wives and responsibilities. There were fishing rods propped up by the door, and paneled walls stained with smoke. The rank scent of stale cigarettes mixed with body odor made it smell like a weird combination of a dive bar and a men’s locker room. There was a crooked table ringed with beer-can circles in the center of the room. Two mismatched chairs on either side. An old-fashioned woodstove by the door. One where youactually had to put wood in it in order to make it work and keep the place warm. Even though it was summer, I knew from experience, it got cold after the sun went down.
My stomach filled with dread at the realization that there was no bathroom inside. The thought of having to pee flooded my entire body with anxiety.
My head pounded with each thought. Pain radiating behind my eyes. Did Jill call Rebecca when I didn’t show up for coffee? They were my two closest friends, and they both would’ve been so worried. I never flaked on people like that. I was so predictable in my routines that I was boring. Had they called the police and reported me missing? Or did they wait until I didn’t show up for work? That’s when my mom would’ve freaked out. She shares my location and still gets an alert every time I get to work. If Jill and Rebecca hadn’t called the police by then, she definitely would. How long did it take before they started looking for you?
I couldn’t stomach the idea of Oliver still sitting by the door and waiting for me to come home. Had someone been there to let him out? He was probably starving. So confused. He would’ve had an accident by now after being cooped up so long, and he’d be just as humiliated by it as any human. My poor baby boy.
The man’s boots were heavy on the floor as he moved through the space like he’d been here before. Was this his cabin? He seemed way too familiar for this to be his first time.
He crouched by the woodstove and struck a match. He coaxed the flames to life with quick, practiced motions. It wasn’t long until the fire caught and the flames crackled to life, filling the room with light and warmth. He walked back over to the counter next to the stainless steel sink. Two Trader Joe’s grocery bags sat on the counter and he took his time unpacking them like it was a regular Saturday morningand he’d just gotten back from running errands. He hadn’t glanced in my direction to see if I was still asleep. Which he should be doing, especially since I had a concussion. Everyone knows you’re not supposed to sleep with a concussion, and I can see why. I’d never been so disoriented. I’m afraid if I close my eyes again, I might not wake up. The pull to sleep is strong, though, and it takes everything in me to fight it.
I struggled to stay awake as he unpacked the groceries. There’s lots of cans of what looks like soup and probably vegetables. A couple of loaves of bread. Some eggs and milk that he throws into a small refrigerator next to the sink. As small as the ones you find in hotels or dorm rooms. He closed the refrigerator door with his boot and wiped his palms down the thighs of his jeans.
He turned around, and I quickly shut my eyes. I waited a few beats, then raised them just enough to peek. He was in the middle of the room, leaned back and stretching like he was working out a kink. I couldn’t get over how much he looked like such a regular guy, in his flannel shirt and blue jeans. If it hadn’t been for the ski mask, he totally would’ve pulled it off.
Was I some random woman he grabbed off the street, or had he been watching me? That mattered. It changed what this was about. There was a big difference if it was personal. It definitely meant something if he picked me.
It’s also possible this was just a crime of opportunity. He could’ve stormed out of his apartment after he got into a fight with his girlfriend or somebody else and stumbled upon me. Did something piss him off and I was the first woman he saw afterward, so he was hell bent on taking out all his rage on me?
My head pounded with each thought. Pain radiating behind my eyes. The concussion left the room spinning. Mystomach pitching so hard I thought I might throw up. I clenched my jaw, and swallowed bile.
Stay awake. Stay awake.
But my eyelids dragged heavy, betraying me. My body sagged into the mattress. No matter how hard I fought for consciousness, the darkness kept pulling and pulling, until finally I didn’t have any other choice but to surrender and let the sleep pull me under.
Chapter Four
The suffocating heat forced me awake. My clothes were drenched in sweat and plastered to me. My mouth was so dry it hurt when I tried to swallow. Where was Oliver? And then I remembered I’d been kidnapped, and fear surged through me all over again.
The masked man was still up and moving around. Had he slept at all?
My fingers tingled from being bound and my wrists burned from struggling against the rope. The gag was unnecessary. There was no point in screaming. We were too far away for anyone to hear me.
Anger radiated off his body with every rigid motion. He breathed hard, like there was rage bubbling underneath the surface that he was desperately trying to contain, exhaling just as hard as he paced back and forth in front of the cabin door. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms in sharp, jerky movements. It looked like he was muttering to himself, but I couldn’t tell what he was saying.
