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“Just a door! It’s just a fucking door,” I quip to myself, gripping the swinging door. Rain pelts down harder, pooling on the grass.
Trees sway in the wind whipping through its tops. Warm air surges past my face as I lose myself in what Mother Nature has to offer. I close my eyes as bits of rain sprinkle over my face for just a split second before I close the door and lock it again. My reflection stares back at me through the window panes. My finger's grip on the knife loosens a smidge. Nothing to worry about. The door got pushed open by the crazy wind. There's nothing nefarious happening here. Just a rare storm raging through.
Yup. I'm safe.
Or not.
My heart drops, and my grip tightens on the knife in my hand. The lights throughout the house blink out completely, leaving me in nothing but darkness.
Darkness. Fucking darkness. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my heart rate to slow down. Darkness does nothing but conceal the bullshit of night. It does nothing but bring back the terrible memories of the nights locked in my cage, listening to the cries of other prisoners. With only the violin to keep me company from somewhere far away.
My palms sweat when my fingers tighten even further around the knife. The sweet melody I heard every night for six months plays through my mind on repeat.
"You're getting better," I murmur to the cement wall I'm left staring at through the bars of my hanging golden cage. I smile when the strings squeak, and I realize the person has messed up when the music stops completely. "One, two, three..." I trail off when the music begins again. They start off right where they left off. Only this time, it's perfect. The strings don't squeak. It's the perfect whine, and the rhythm picks up. My body instinctively sways back and forth to the tune that keeps me sane.
This tune will forever be stamped into my soul. It walks with me through the darkness of my past and holds me in the present.
And it has. Every time I'm left stranded in my memories, the helpful tune rings through my mind, dragging me from the stupid abyss of bullshit. Like now. When I'm surrounded by the darkness of a strange house creaking and moaning in the wind. You'd think with a beautiful house like this; it wouldn't make these monstrous noises. It shouldn't. It's too nice. It's a mansion for millionaire mafia men.
Right?
I heave a breath. I'm better than this. I'm better than letting the darkness consume me. Don't let it get to you. Get your shit together. Go to the basement and find the circuit breaker. Yeah, that's a plan. Okay. I've got this. Totally got this.
I spin on my heel with my new plan roaring through my mind and stop dead. Ice fills my veins, freezing everything. My breath stalls in my chest, and my mouth opens to form a silent scream as I suck in air. I've faced a lot of things in my fucking life. I almost died in the basement of my monster's home. Over and over, he tortured me. Played mind tricks on me. Subjected me to cruel lessons at his hand where I killed more people than I can count.
But this?
He didn't prepare me for a masked man staring back at me in the middle of a darkened kitchen, blocking me from any sort of escape. Only his outline shines through. And the fucking mask lighting up on his face in the shape of a skull with blood dripping down it. It’s the same goddamn mask from that night weeks ago.
As I stand before the masked man, a shiver skitters its way down my spine. My heart pounds in my chest like a relentless drum begging to beat the fuck out of my chest. His face, hidden behind an eerie skeleton mask, chills me to the damn bones. Staring back at me is a person devoid of any readable expression, stranding me in my fear. If I can’t read his face, then I can’t know his intentions. Meaning, I can’t fucking run to save my life. I grip the knife tighter. Maybe I’ll stab him after all.
Get your shit together! My brain shouts. I've been through this so many times and in scarier situations.
"Who are you?" My voice shakes when I raise the knife and point at the person standing tall with a skull mask, concealing his identity.
I want to shout, “I'll stab the fuck out of you if you don't back up.” But I don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing my plans. Because then he'll anticipate them. He probably sees me as a weak woman. One of which, I'm not. I'll start with his gut first and incapacitate him, hopefully through the ribs. It'll puncture his lungs, leaving him gasping for air. Then, I'll take it all away from him. I shiver as my darkness takes over, whispering plans in my ear. Ways to escape. Ways to ensure I’m alive when the sun comes up and this bastard is six feet under.
The person behind the mask doesn't say a word. They stand there like a statue, not moving a damn inch. Their gloved hands rest on their stomach, like they’re waiting for something. But what?
Get it together. Get it the fuck together, Journey. Think. You have to think on your toes. You need to distract him long enough to get the hell out of here.
Okay. The tall masked man is obviously here for…? Who? Me? The guys? I roll my lips together, keeping my eyes on him. He continues to stare at me like I'm supposed to do something. My heart hammers when he finally takes a step forward. Just one. And I step back, banging up against the back door. My back stiffens, and every muscle turns rigid.
I need to open the door and bolt into the storm. This masked fucker can have the dark house. I'll hide in the trees until the sun comes up.
My eyes focus on the tall man's outline. Despite not being able to make out the majority of his body, his presence suffocates the room, and his silence speaks volumes. The ringing in my ears screams at me when my fingers slowly travel across the wood of the door, heading toward the handle. I'll escape and run. He'll be here doing whatever he wants to the house. Away from me. I just need to get away. I don’t care if this is one of the guys in disguise trying to scare me straight. I’ll fucking hide until the sun comes up, and I know I’m fucking safe.
"Run, Little Tempest," he rasps, taking another step toward me. My fucking heart shudders. "Run!" he shouts, advancing on me.
I don't fucking think about the rasp of his shaky voice and how fire brews in my guts at the sound of him. Like I’ve heard it before somewhere in my dreams, and it soothes me. Fear evaporates into nothing.
“You want me to run?” I ask, straightening my spine and observing the tall masked man who stands just a foot away from me. He could grab me if he wanted to. Kill me if he must. But he doesn’t. His hands rest together with his fingers intertwined.
He nods. I’m sure a smile resting behind the creepy as fuck mask.
I don’t dare take my eyes off him when my hand lands on the knob. My breath stalls when he stays there, tilting his head, revealing the blue of his eyes.
Ocean eyes.
