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And then he leaves, his footsteps silent.
I don’t waste another second. I rush over to my dresser—which happens to be right by Sydney’s body—slipping and sliding in the blood coating my feet. I tear through the drawers and hastily pull on a long-sleeved shirt and then a sweatshirt. I grab a pair of socks next, round the bed, and start wiping the bottoms of my feet as best as I can on the thin blanket.
I pull my socks and shoes on next, grab my journal from the floorboard, and quietly make my way down the steps.
Fear has kept me in my bedroom at night. It prevented me from going down the steps and out the front door, knowing that there was going to be someone outside waiting for me.
It’s controlled me for over two months, kept me compliant, and now I no longer have that option. I’ve killed someone, and if I don’t leave, I’ll be next. No, I’ll be praying for it, but I know they wouldn’t let death embrace me so easily.
I snag a grocery bag under the sink, cringing every time it crinkles. Then, I find a few bottles of water in the cabinet and a box of granola bars. It’ll have to be enough. I can’t afford any more weight than that. Next, I slide open the drawer and grab two large knives for protection.
My plan is to make it to the tracks and then follow them out of here. Hopefully, I’ll find shelter in one of the trailers when I need to take a break. I’m anticipating that they’ll assume I took the road and focus their search party in that direction when they find me missing.
They see me as a diamond because I have Zade’s love, but they fail to remember that’s what forged me into a stone so unbreakable. He’s taught me a lot about myself and who I really am. But most importantly, he’s taught me how to persevere.
Just as I’m leaving the kitchen, I hear a loud snore, and I pause, my heart picking up speed. Rocco’s friends tend to stay the night when they get too fucked up, and I imagine it’d take a stampede of elephants to wake them. But I can’t be too sure—it just depends on the amount of drugs that are running through their systems.
Peeking around past the entryway, I see a grungy man laid out on the couch, mouth half-open. It’s Jerry. He’s one of the regulars here and also one of the more vindictive ones when Sydney and I receive punishments.
There’s a small part of me tempted to walk over and stab one of my knives into his throat, yet I can’t bring myself to do it. Despite how badly I want to murder every single person in this house, I’m not a ruthless killer like Zade.
At least, I didn’t use to be. I guess I’m not so sure anymore.
Heart in my throat, I slowly and silently make my way towards the door, jumping when one of his snores is particularly loud and obnoxious.
I’m halfway through the room when I hear my plastic bag give out, and one of the water bottles breaks right through, loudly smacking off the floor and rolling several feet.
Just barely, I bite back a gasp, trapping it on the tip of my tongue right alongside my erratic heartbeat. My wide eyes snap to Jerry. His snores have cut off, but he appears to be sleeping still.
A dangerous amount of adrenaline is coursing through my bloodstream, and my vision goes spotty from how hard my heart is pounding.
I cup the bottom of the bag and tiptoe to the water bottle, cringing when the sack crinkles in my hand. Then I crouch down and grab the water bottle, keeping my movements slow.
Screwing my eyes shut, it takes several seconds to try and calm my heartbeat. My hands are clammy, and sweat is breaking out alongside my hairline and lower back. I don’t think I’ve ever been this fucking terrified, and I’m too consumed in it to feel any type of thrill. It’s just that… pure terror.
Breathing out softly, I stand again and try to recover the bottom of the bag, but before I can, another water bottle slips through, once more crashing to the floor.
I choke, and as if moving through molasses, I lift my head to look at Jerry.
His eyes are wide open and pinned directly on me.
For several beats, we just stare at one another, suspended in time.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the couch.
I can barely hear past the thrum of my pulse, and my vision tunnels, on the verge of blacking out from the fear. If he calls out for Rocco or Francesca, I’m done for. Rio’s done for if they find out he was involved. Then, his sister will be sold, and I’ll never get out of here—
Focus, little mouse.
Swallowing, I straighten, deciding that keeping my mouth shut for now is the best option. I have no explanation.
“You trying to escape, diamond?”
I shake my head, eyes widening further as he stands, and starts walking toward me. Instinctively, I take a step back, kicking the fallen water bottle.
“Then you want to explain what the fuck you’re doing?”
Once more, I shake my head. The only excuse that comes to mind is that I was bringing snacks to the guards. Which is honestly laughable, and the last thing I want this man to do is fucking laugh. He certainly wouldn’t be quiet about it considering he’s always been the loudest one in the group.
