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Movement is difficult with fog clouding my brain as I sit up against the wall, no longer wishing to lie in a vulnerable position around her.
“Anyway, I’m heading over to apologize to Jaxton.” She pouts her bottom lip. “He’ll need comfort in these trying times while he looks for you. He’s pulled the news stations in, soliciting the entire country. Lucky for you, I purchased the house under a pseudonym, and no one but family knows about my medical background.” Her giggle is mocking as she continues, “Don’t forget to eat and drink what I left. I’ve kept you hydrated with an IV and an NG tube for food while you were out, but you need to eat. I don’t need you passing out, even if you need a diet.” Another evil smirk tilts as if I care about her taunts against my weight.
But her words are confusing—she’s acting as if I’ve been here longer than a couple of days. “How long have I been here?” The question slips inadvertently. Information is precious and I don’t want her to use it against me. But this is important.
Dread courses and churns my gut, and if her growing haughtiness is anything to judge by, I’m screwed. “Longer than forty-eight hours. And you know what that means! The likelihood that the police will find you is slim, since the trail’s gone cold. No evidence or sightings… Poof! Gone.”
“How long?” I drag the words through clenched teeth, swallowing my pride by asking again.
“For you, it probably seems like a couple of days, but it’s been… about three weeks now.” Her manic smile is insanely wide when she delivers the news and only grows in size when my eyes round in horror.
“Three weeks.” Sounds dissipate, transforming to static, as the words whisper through my lips in disbelief. Jaxton, dad, the bakery, my friends… they’re all aware now, searching. The trauma that they’re going through matches my own.
“Now you know why I waited for Jaxton to be at his weakest.” And with that, she turns to leave, locking me away with tormented thoughts.
The slam of the door syncs with the destruction of my heart, releasing the sob that’s lain dormant this entire ordeal. Weakness falls as cold tears, pooling in the palms of my hands as I cup my face in sorrow. The physical need to return to their side aches deep within, as if my soul were being plucked by the Reaper herself.
The handful of minutes I allow myself to break are treasured. They remind me that now’s the time to dig deep—body, mind, and soul. Remaining stable, smart, and cunning is how I’ll save myself. Not only am I fighting for my life, but the futures of everyone I care for. She’snotgoing to steal them away from me or rip me out of their lives. So, I wipe my eyes of the last weakness I’ll allow and plan an escape from this dungeon.
The first thought that rings true is the click before and after Sarah leaves each time. There’s a key to the door. One that’s going to be almost impossible to get without her knowing. The chain is the first obstacle, since I’ll have to slip the cuff before attempting to flee. There’s no give, appearing from medieval times, even though the lock holding it together is new. After checking its durability, yanking, pushing, and pulling it every which way, until my skin is raw and raspberried.
An exasperated huff escapes, blowing hair from my face, while I glance around. This is the first time my senses are with me as I contemplate the seriousness of the situation. The primary fact is that I’m utterly and truly fucked. Sarah’s completely off her rocker.
Slipping from the edge of the bed, I test my balance and find I’m steady enough to walk around, testing the perimeter of the chain. While I stretch, I search the room for any type of weapon, but there’s nothing. The element of surprise will have to be on my side when I execute my plan—whenever I form one.
My stomach growls in torment, reminding me it’s been several weeks since I’d physically eaten. She’s gone through a lot of trouble to keep me alive, which worries me more than not.What’s her end game?That one’s easy at this point—she wants me dead, and Jaxton to herself.
Even though pride is a giant pill to swallow, food and water are two things I cannot ignore, and glace at her offerings. My guess is that it’s morning. She said there’s no dinner coming my way, so saving half of this for later is the smart thing to do.
I rip the bag of chips open and eat a few while sectioning off the rest of the food for the evening. The salty barbeque flavor bursts across my tongue, rousing the howling gremlin protesting in my gut. There’s no mirror in the room for reflection, but I can clearly see that I’ve lost weight from being fed through a tube.
The reality of being that vulnerable, surviving, and being able to mentally and physically function is unbelievable. But if I dwell on the past, then hope for a future will shrivel until there’s nothing left, and I refuse to let that happen. As far as predicaments go, this could be worse.
As the day wears on, Sarah keeps to her word, and doesn’t return until what seems like several hours later. The last of my meal eaten long ago and since her presence entered the house, the temperature in the room continues dropping by the hour.It’s because of her evil presence or the bitch is fucking with me and cranking the AC.She’s probably hoping I’ll beg for those blankets.
Hours continue to tick by before the key turns in the door’s lock. By this time, my skin is cold to the touch, as I hunker against the mattress for the only warmth in the room. The door creaks like you’d see in a haunted house, revealing a demon.
Her arms are full of blankets, and that eerie plastic smile smeared across her face. “Here you go.” She places them on the end of the bed, acting as if we’re roommates, and she’s lending me linens. “You were very good today, so as per our agreement, here are your blankets.”
I stare in disbelief. A split-second decision has me playing along. “Thank you.” I whisper through chattering teeth.
The gratitude works, as her eyes round with superiority. She thinks she’s won already, but that’s okay. That’s what I want her to think. “You’re welcome.” She moves the metal chair out of my reach and sits down, staring. My stomach protests, breaking the silent standoff that’s at a stalemate, signaling I’m still depleted in nutrients. “Where are my manners? Let me get you something to eat.” She jumps from her seat and hustles out the door, locking it behind her.
I can hear her move quickly upstairs, walking from one room to another. There’s a light sound of TV somewhere as dishes clang loudly in the room she’s occupying. The small sounds hint to where the living room and kitchen are located, offering a glimpse of the layout of the house without visual confirmation. I use the information to dictate the potential location of an exit.
Sara’s heavy footing descends the stairs and redirects my attention to the only door. The click sounds, admitting her, and the giant tray of food she’s carrying. My stomach reacts immediately with a loud grumble while I’m practically drooling down my chin. Potatoes and gravy stacked high, meat loaf, green beans, spaghetti, and garlic bread sprawled all over the plate. She also decorated the tray with four bottled waters.
“Her you go.” She singsongs, setting everything down on the desk again, then returning to her safety chair out of reach.
As much as I want the food, I refuse to scarf it down in front of her. “What’s this for? I thought you were only feeding me once.” The extras contradict her previous statement about losing weight and rationing my lunch.
She shrugs with a smirk plastered on her freaky-ass face. “Had a good day today, so I thought I’d pay it forward.” She reaches into her back pocket, pulling out a cell phone, enticingly waving it.
Curiosity gets the best of me. “What’s that for?”
“I recorded something today that I wanted to share with you.” She presses a button on the phone and soon voices echo in the air. Sarah’s is the first one I recognize, but then a deep, enticing voice replies—one I’d know anywhere.Jaxton. My lower lip trembles with the force it takes to hold in a sob, but tears continue to well. My reaction pleases her as she rejoices in my suffering. “Listen.” She shushes me as their conversation registers.
“How’re you doing?” she asked Jaxton, her voice dripping with false sincerity.
