AllFreeNovel
Share Us
ChapterForty-Four
LUNA
The duct tape is easy to get off.
Most people would think the pendant necklace I wear has some kind of sentimental meaning. They wouldn’t notice the smaller, sharper edges hidden in the curves of the metal.
All I have to do is bend my arms at some interesting angles to maneuver my hands in front of my body, slip the necklace off, and grip the cord of the jewelry in my teeth as I catch the tape on the sharp edge. A few slices and splitting through the bindings becomes as easy as ripping open a bag of chips. With free hands, the tape around my feet doesn’t stand a chance.
I pause to stretch my muscles, shaking out the cramps and aches of lying in an uncomfortable position for too long.
With careful fingers, I probe the back of my head. The area is sore to the touch, but my hands come away clean. That’s a plus. I’ll still need to visit a hospital when this is all over to check I don’t have a concussion.
Walking on light feet, I explore the room that used to be so familiar to me. Unsurprisingly, the door is locked. Not the escape route I want to use anyway. Leaving through the door means I still need to navigate through the house, almost certainly alerting my father to my escape in real time.
Better if I’m able to get out without him knowing.
Crossing to the window, I discover there is still something in this room left over from my childhood.
A row of nail heads have been hammered in a haphazard line into the bottom of the window frame. Holding the window firmly shut.
Despite his ease with laying hands on me now, there was a time when my father rarely used his fists to punish me. That was for the boys, he always said.
Instead, Bill Lamont would lock me in this room for an indeterminate amount of time.
No food. No water. Just endless hours to contemplate how I’d wronged him. There was one time I really pissed him off. I can’t remember what I did, but it was enough to have the lock still firmly in place two days after the incident.
That was the day I climbed out the window.
I got down to the street and jogged to the closest gas station, where I used the bathroom before scarfing down two hot dogs and almost a liter of water.
When I climbed back into the bedroom, the door was still locked, but my father came in a few hours later, wearing his aren’t-you-happy-to-see-me-now face.
It took a year for him to discover my escape route.
That’s when he nailed things shut.
That’s when I started having panic attacks at the thought of this room. Most nights, I would end up sleeping on the floor of Leo or Dash’s room to avoid coming in here.
And now I’m back, locked up all over again.
The panic still claws against my brain, but I stifle the dread with my survival knowledge.
I can get out of this room.
I’ll probably have to break the glass, which will bring my parents running. But as long as I’m prepared to shimmy down the drainpipe faster than it takes my dad to unlock a door, I’ll be good.
There’s nothing in the room particularly good for breaking windows. I’m in the process of wrapping a few of my mother’s shirts around my fist when I hear the yelling through the door. The whole house shakes with the noise.
Footsteps pound the stairs, and I glance between the window and the door. I’d banked on the time it takes them to run up the stairs to give myself precious seconds to clear away shards of broken glass that can cause real injury if I try climbing through them. But if my dad is right outside the door when I break the window, I don’t stand a chance of climbing out without his interference.
I drop the shirts and hurry to stand just beside the doorway, sliding a rack of clothes closer to shield me for the brief moment when someone first enters the room.
This may be my only chance to escape.
Let’s just hope my father isn’t carrying one of his guns. Not much room to dodge a bullet down the narrow staircase.
Even as I tense to run, the people who pounded toward my room don’t seem ready to greet me just yet.
