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I’m out of time for everything, in fact. Whatever I did, didn’t work.
His footsteps are closer now—so close I have to hold my breath, sure he’ll be able to hear me. He’s just outside of my door, pacing the living room. Searching for me.
“I know you’re still in here.” His voice is low and slow. He’s in no hurry. I’m a trapped rabbit, and he’s the wolf. Waiting me out. “There are only so many places you can hide, Mari. Come out now, and this will be a lot easier.” His feet drag slowly along the carpet.
Shhhh.
Shhhh.
Shhhh.
Then faster.Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish.
I’m going to die. Or vomit. Or have a heart attack, then vomit, then die.
At this point, I’m not sure which I prefer.
He’s close. His footsteps slow. Long, dark shadows of his feet pass in front of the door, and I hold my breath.
Please keep going. Please keep going.
I slip toward the back of the closet, millimeter by millimeter, not daring to breathe or shuffle too quickly. Then, the shadows are gone. I release a ragged breath.
Thank God.
The door rips open—no!—and I’m so thankful I moved. He stares into the darkness, his silhouette outlined by the light glowing in the living room behind him. If he moves things around or turns on a light in here, there’s no question he’ll see me.
I’m lightheaded, my heart beating against my rib cage like a wild animal demanding escape. It’s so loud, he has to hear it. I squeeze my hands into fists, resigning myself to passing out, refusing to release another breath.
Just as my vision begins to blur, he closes the door and walks away. I cover my mouth with both hands, sinking to the ground. I’m so lightheaded I feel like I might still be suffocating, drifting off without realizing it.
I feel like this is all a dream.
What else can I blame for my good and unlikely luck?
Somehow, he didn’t see me.
He should’ve. This shouldn’t have worked.
But it did.
Another door opens in the distance, and then he begins to roar.
CHAPTERSIXTEEN
“Rrrrr-aaaaaaaaa!”
Something else slams into the wall of the room he’s in.
He’s thrown yet another thing, launching it across the room in a fit of rage. At this point, it sounds like the house is being torn apart, piece by piece.
“Where are you?” he roars again.
I jump as something else slams into the wall. His footsteps are heading in my direction, and I freeze as he passes by my door, waiting. To my relief, his footsteps don’t stop. I listen as they echo on the kitchen floor, then the stairs.
Now’s my chance.I push open the closet door without hesitation and suck in a gasp. The couch has been overturned, a floor lamp lies on its side, shade askew. His television is face down on the carpet, along with a handful of knickknacks and plants that must’ve been beside it when he wiped them all off. I eye the front door and ease the closet door shut silently.
I have to go now. It’s only a matter of time until he finds me.
