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The door is five feet away to freedom, and I sprint for it.
Hope blooms in my chest.
I mutter a prayer as I run. Three feet left.
Two.
Thank God, I’m here. I twist the knob.
It’s locked.
A cry cracks loose inside me, but I hold it down and fumble with the dead bolt.
Shuffling sounds across tile.
Closer. Closer.
I manage to turn the dead bolt and pull on the door, but it sticks.
He’s coming. The clicks are methodic, slow and measured as if he’s in no hurry. Like he knows I can’t escape. It’s a game.
Please. Please. Come on!
The door opens and I slip out, forcing myself to stay calm in case my mind is playing tricks on me and it’s not him. This time, I make sure to close the door behind me. The air is balmy and the wind rustles through the grass.
The briny sea air washes over my tongue and the marsh grass swishes as I dart down a private boardwalk that leads... I don’t know where. I only know to run and eat up the ground and create distance between me and the house of horror. Between me and him.
Thick walls of clouds block the moonlight.
A door slams. Then I hear something.
Thwupt. Thwupt. Thwupt.
He’s dragging something across the boardwalk. I dare not turn to look.
He’s coming.
Slow and methodical. Silent. Only the awful dragging noise.
Nothing comes into view but marshland and water surrounded by clusters of trees. Alligators lie in wait. I can’t remember how I know this. There are snakes and snapping turtles too.
But he’s behind me.
Plopping noises in the water draw my attention, and I freeze. What is it? Will it approach me or prey on me if I enter too?
I can’t risk staying on the boardwalk. I ease myself into the icy depths and it steals my breath. Slime oozes over my feet, and I sink into mire. Murky water reaches my waist, sending a shock along my abdomen, but I can’t gasp. Instead, I push through the grass and hope the stirring due to my movement won’t alert him of my location.
Sharp twigs and rocks gouge into the bottom of my feet, and I crunch my bottom lip to keep from crying. Marsh grass appears soft at a glance, but it’s strong and sharp like knitting needles and stabs into my flesh and tender places where I’ve been tattooed in flowers.
Ahead is a patch of dense trees that would conceal me even in daylight. A huge splash sends ripples only a few feet away, startling resting birds to flight. Now I know what’s been causing the dragging noise.
A canoe.
He’s cutting through the narrow channels and at an advantage.
I can’t stop now. I push through the mud, which tries to hold me captive, and toward the dense thicket of trees. I finagle my way inside, but it’s like camping in a thorn bush, and nettles rip my flesh. A quiet cry escapes my throat, and I cover my mouth.
Did he hear me? Does he know I’m here?
