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This shit is private and I have just unfolded a tragedy that I never should have done.
Thank God Owen didn’t catch me this time.
I try to put everything back exactly as I found it, but that isn’t the easiest thing to do when I wasn’t really paying much attention. Who knows how well Owen knows this cupboard? He might have everythingexactlyas he wants it, and I’ve just screwed it all up. I feel a little sick as I stuff it all back in the cupboard, my heart thundering in my throat.
I don’t want Owen to hate me.
“Fuck.”
Everything comes cascading out. The papers all slide down to the floor, clattering and making a massive mess. I could fucking cry.
My heart is racing, I think I’m going to vomit, but time is ticking. Owen could come back at any moment, so I need to get this stuff all away.
I’ve done a shitty job of packing everything up. Now it’s so much worse.
Only this time, when I try to gather everything up, my fingers find something new.
Something hard and cold.
Something metallic.
I was panicking before, but now I’m having a fucking heart attack.
Why the hell does Owen have agunhere?
There are bullets as well, which really sends a chill down my spine.
Is this how my life is going to end?
It shouldn’t shock me that he had a gun considering how he abducted me. But feeling the metal in my shaking hands reminds me of my reality…
Just because it feels like things have been blooming between Owen and me doesn’t change things.
I’m still his kidnap victim, and one way or another, this is going to end.
I kinda assumed that eventually I would get out of here.
But now I’m thinking that there might be a grave for me on this property somewhere, and that these bullets will decorate my corpse.
I’ve already been a missing person for a while now, although my family won’t have a report with the police out for me. They will be dealing with it themselves.
But now I might be a missing person forever.
As I turn the gun around in my hand, I recall all the shooting lessons that my father took me to when I was younger.
I hated them at the time, I didn’t ever want to use a gun, but now I might have to.
All of that might be coming to fruition here.
I slide my eyes closed and try to imagine firing the gun.
Not just shooting, but at Owen.
It’s hard for me to think about, but if he’s planning to kill me, then I won’t have a choice in the matter.
If it comes to me verses him, then I need to get out of here alive. I don’t want to be a missing person, buried in the forest, never to be seen again.
My family will never rest, and I don’t want to leave that mess behind for them.
