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“I wanted to see if you had plans for lunch. I thought I heard someone down here screaming.”
“I was watching a movie. Anyway, I’ve told you to stop dropping by unannounced. I’m busy,” he says firmly.
“Busy? You were watching a movie,” she points out. My heart pounds against my rib cage. Silently, I beg her to ask more questions. To demand to see what movie he was watching. To know why the screams sounded so realistic, why he’s so out of breath.
“You should’ve called.”
She sighs. “Why? You never answer anymore. You’re always busy lately. I miss you.”
Their voices get softer as I hear the creaks on the stairs telling me they’re making their way back up. When I can no longer hear them, I realize he didn’t lock the door again.
Not that he forgot, I’m sure, just that he couldn’t without making himself look suspicious. I ease toward the door, taking hold of the doorknob. I have to make it out this time. No matter how much pain I’m in. No matter how much I’m hurting. I glance down at the bandaged wound on my stomach.
Last time he caught me, he spared my life, but it would’ve been all too easy for him to kill me. If I stay in this room any longer, I’m scared of what my fate will be.
I can’t be caught this time.
I pull open the door and step out into the empty room. This time, I need to find shoes. Not having them last time slowed me down on the hot gravel far too much. I search around, spying a pair of black rain boots next to the washer.
I cross the room and slip them on, trying not to think about Chris’s feet being in the boots and how unsanitary my lack of socks is. None of that matters right now. I take careful, quiet footsteps toward the staircase, and just as I reach the bottom, I hear that familiar sound:re-re-re-re-re-re-re.It cuts off when the house shakes as the door is slammed closed.
He’s coming back.
His footsteps are loud on the floor just above my head. Thinking quickly, I dart back across the room and shut the bedroom door without a sound. I have mere seconds to spare as his feet come into view. I dart behind the clothesline, hiding out of view behind a corner section of the wall.
He’s whistling as he reaches the door and steps inside, expecting to find me right where he left me. I rush forward, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it, both with the dead bolt and the chain this time.
“What the hell?” He slams a fist into the metal of the door. “Mari, don’t do this!”
I ignore him, smiling to myself. With all the speed and strength I can muster, I rush up the stairs, no longer caring about the sound my shoes are making.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
I reach the top of the stairs, my heart pounding in my ears as I begin working the multitude of locks.
CRASH.
Downstairs, the door is ripped open, and I hear him fighting with the chain. He releases a growl so loud it feels like it crawls over my skin.
I don’t have time.
I pull open the door just as I hear the ominous roar followed by footsteps heading in my directionthat lets me know he’s torn the chain off the door. If I run out of the storm door now, there’s no doubt he’ll catch me. There’s too much open space beyond this door and nowhere to hide. I need more of a headstart than I’ve given myself. I really thought the chain would hold for longer than it did.
Thinking quickly, I unlatch the storm door and slam the main door closed.
Then, I slip out of the boots, picking them up and carrying them as I pass through the kitchen. I just need to find somewhere to hide while he looks for me outside. Maybe he doesn’t have keys to the house on him right now. As soon as he leaves, I can lock him out and search for a way to call for help. Then again, he does, at a minimum, have a key for the room downstairs. Maybe the keys are all on one ring together, I’ve never paid enough attention to notice. If that’s the case, locking him out would be a terrible plan.
The sound of his footsteps as he reaches the top of the stairs has my heart in my throat. I’m in the living room, searching desperately for somewhere to hide, when I hear the back door open.
Spying a wooden door up ahead of me, I open it and dart inside.
Darkness greets me, along with several coats and jackets. It’s a coat closet, I realize, and I’ve backed myself into a space with no escape, but I have no time to second-guess my decision.
