Page 42 of Kylie

Meeting his gaze, I held it. “I guess the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree, huh?”

“I guess not.”

Because this appeared to be a game I couldn’t win, I decided to get to the heart of the matter. “Am I a pawn in your game, Mr. Calloway?”

His smile was ferocious. “One of many, dear. One of many.”

Chapter Seventeen

Thursday, June 16, 2022

Kylie

I wasn’t sure how I knew, but as soon as my eyes opened, I was aware of a shift in the air.

Something had happened or was happening. I didn’t know which, but I could feel it.

It had nothing to do with the nurse who continued to keep an eye on me, although I was convinced she didn’t like me at all. Or perhaps remaining standoffish was the only way she could do her job. That would’ve been a good observation if the woman weren’t evil. Not that she was, but there definitely weren’t any Good Samaritan awards coming her way. Everything she did and said was cold. Not hurtful or intentionally mean. Not that I could tell, anyway.

Ever since Martin’s visit, she had started restraining me to the bed again. She and her evil helper minions left my hands free, but without the use of my legs, it was enough to keep me from going anywhere. Of course, I pushed the envelope, calling for the nurse every forty-five minutes, claiming I had to go to the bathroom. Because she was not thrilled with the idea of cleaning up after me, she reluctantly released me every time, but I was very aware of the threat in her eyes. I would only be able to push her so far.

I had to admit restraining me was a wise move on her part because I was beginning to plot and plan, trying to come up with a way to free myself from this place. I had a family to get back to. Despite my best efforts to get Martin to come back, he never did, which left me with far too much time on my hands. I wanted out. I wanted to go home to my husbands and my kids. I didn’t want them to move on without me, although Martin had taken great pleasure in telling me they already had. He seemed to take pride in relaying any details that might hurt me. As though it brought him pleasure to inflict pain on me. And yes, the thought of my children believing I was dead … that hurt my heart.

But I wasn’t dead, which meant now I needed to come up with a plan to get back to my life. I had no idea what Martin’s goal was, what he expected to gain from keeping me here, but I was no longer willing to sit around and find out.

And my plan started with me getting out of this place. Only then would I even know where I was.

“Hey!” I shouted. “Can you take this off? I need to pee.”

That announcement was how I’d started every day—or night, since I wasn’t aware of the time—for the past week. It usually took a few minutes, but then Nurse Ratched—I’d given her that name since she refused to tell me her real one—would saunter in.

I waited for her arrival, but she didn’t come.

“Hello?” I called out, staring at the door.

After a few minutes, my heart rate spiked and cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Surely they wouldn’t…

Panic set in at the thought of being left there alone, strapped to the bed. Maybe they hadn’t fed me gourmet meals for the past however long I’d been there, but they had been feeding me and giving me water. Without it, I would die.

An image flashed in my head: my cold, dead corpse shriveled up on this bed.

“Hey!” I shouted, my voice echoing off the concrete walls. “Where are you?”

No answer.

My gaze snapped to the ceiling, searching for the red light on the camera. I didn’t see it. Did they take that, too? Did they clear out and leave me here to die?

“Hello!” I screamed, panic stealing the air from my lungs.

I threw off the scratchy blanket and shifted down to get to the strap on my ankle, determined to free myself. I fumbled at first, then realized the lock on the strap was gone. I wasn’t restrained.

Unclipping the chain, I then ripped at the leather straps around my ankles, tossing them aside. Once I was freed, I shot out of the bed, my gaze swinging to the ceiling again, checking for the red light. It still wasn’t there.

No longer worried about my bladder being full or that I wasn’t pulling a pretend with the walker, I darted to the door and peeked out into the hallway. I looked left, then right. No one was there. The doors along the corridor were all closed. Glancing both ways again, I decided to check for myself. I went right, clasping the knob on each door, attempting to open them.

Still locked.

Once I had tried them all, I went to the end of the hallway and stood there, looking for a way out. There was a steel panel that I was sure had to open. If I had to guess, the exit door was on the other side of it. I ran my palms over the steel, trying to locate a button or lever that would release it. There had to be one. It would’ve been easier if there’d been a neon sign, or hell, even a Post-it note would work—pointing the way with a “Press This” label.