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I shifted, scooted, and pushed with my heels to help me sit up against the headboard. The rope around my ankles went taut when I was about halfway to sitting all the way up. At least I wasn’t flat on my back, and I could see the door.
I tried tugging on the rope on my right wrist to test its strength. It was pretty strong. Mr. X was determined I wouldn’t escape. But I could twist my wrist within the rope tied around it. I tried to twist and pull to see if I could squeeze my hand out. It didn’t work. If only I could stretch out or wear down the rope somehow, I might be able to get free.
With that plan, I started twisting and pulling at all of my bindings, never removing my eyes from the door.
Twist. Twist. Pull.
That was the only thing that mattered. If I wanted to survive—to get free—it was all that could. The only thing that kept me company for what felt like hours was my fear.
At some point, blood slowly started to roll up my arms toward my elbows. My pillows were stained with dark red dots and down by the foot of the bed, beneath my ankles, were large copper blotches that had seeped into my gray comforter. The tan ropes tied around each of my wrists and ankles looked as if they had been dipped in red wine.
Twist. Twist. Pull.
I’d repeated that process over and over again—rubbing away my skin against the splintering rope as I did.
How long had it been since Mr. X had tied me to my bed and left me? He had brought me in here when it had still been dark outside. The sun was up now. It had been up for a while.
My eyes were glued to my open bedroom door, feeling as though Mr. X would appear at any moment. I tried not to let my eyes drift to the tips of Shayla’s white sneakers. He had slit her throat just outside my bedroom. Her body was still where she’d fallen. She was dead. There was no denying it now. I had tried to get help—tried to escape. But Mr. X had nailed the windows and doors. The only door I hadn’t tried was the front door. Mr. X had caught me before I could.
I had a feeling that was the only way out.
Twist. Twist. Pull.
Strangely, the pain of my nerves rubbing against the rope had numbed. Was it my need to escape—my adrenaline blocking out the one thing that could slow me down?
It didn’t matter. I didn’t need to know. I had no idea when Mr. X would come back. I wouldn’t let myself think about what he would do to me when he did. I just had to get out of here.
Twist. Twist. Pull.
The rope around my right wrist slid up around my hand. I held my breath as I pulled on it again and the rope squeezed over the rest of my hand, passed over my fingers, and I was free. A new surge of hope and relief rushed through me.
“Oh, Shiii…loooh!” Mr. X sang, his voice echoing from down the hall. I was so tired of him calling for me that way. There was no doubt that sound would haunt me for the rest of my life if I survived this.
He began humming as he made his way down the hall toward my room. I worked quickly to untie my other wrist as I listened to him getting closer. Once my other hand was free, I glanced down at my tied ankles. I wouldn’t be able to untie them in time. Panicked, I searched around. There was a pen on my nightstand. I reached for it. My fingers were barely able to roll it close enough to scoop it into my hand.
Moving as fast as I could, I wrapped the rope back around each wrist, praying that he wouldn’t notice that they weren’t tied. I hid the pen in my clenched fist behind the taut rope. My gaze went back to the doorway just in time to see Shayla’s feet slide away.
My hand that wasn’t holding the pen squeezed around the rope so tightly it was painful. I needed that pain. I needed it to be worse than the fear that was threatening to paralyze me.
Mr. X stepped into view. Only he wasn’t alone. He was holding Shayla’s limp body against him with an arm around her waist and his hand held one of hers. Then he waltzed into my room, quite literally. Still humming, he spun around—dancing with her lifeless body. As he dipped her, he said, “Your sister always was the attention whore.” He stood straight and stared down at Shayla, whose head flopped around like a newborn baby’s. “Even though you two are identical, you couldn’t be more different.” He spun around again, swinging Shayla with him. “She flaunted herself about, gobbling up every ounce of attention she got like a greedy, spoiled princess. She may have been beautiful on the outside, but her soul was ugly.” He tossed Shayla’s body to the ground and his eyes flicked to me. “You, however, are perfection. Inside and out. You don’t have to flaunt anything. Your soul radiates a genuine and pure light. It calls to me.” He walked over to my bed. Eyes never leaving mine, he brought his knee up onto the mattress. “Your innocence draws me in like a moth to a flame,” he said as he crawled over me until he was straddling my hips. His hands cupped my face. “I covet that innocence.” His hands moved down and around my neck. “I want it so bad…” He squeezed. “I almost want to destroy it.”
He cut off my air completely. Panic flared through me, taking over. I thrashed and bucked beneath him, almost forgetting that my hands were free. I quickly worked to shed the rope.
“You are mine, Shiloh. No one can take you from me now,” he growled as he continued to choke me.
I got the rope off my hand holding the pen.
Do it! Do it now!I screamed internally. Fisting the pen in my hand, I swung it. I stabbed the pen through his cheek.
“AH!” he screamed, rolling off of me and off the bed. He hit the ground with a loud thump that shook my room.
I didn’t waste any time and started untying the rope around my ankles. I got one untied pretty quickly, then jumped to the next one. He groaned loudly and crawled toward the bathroom connected to my room.
As soon as I had my last ankle untied, I quickly clambered off my bed. I jumped over Shayla’s body and ran for the door. I was caught by my foot and fell forward. The moment I hit the ground, I was dragged back.
I started kicking my legs and because my ankles were bloody, his grip on me slipped. He let out a loud roar as I started to crawl away. I pushed to my feet and ran for the door again. By his ragged breathing, I knew he was right behind me. Not wanting a repeat of what had happened on the stairs, I made a last-second decision to turn right, the opposite direction from the stairs, as I ran out of my room. I had a plan in my head, and I prayed it would work.
Pushing my beaten body to the max, I returned to my parents’ bedroom door. I squeezed through the door quickly. Just as I got inside, Mr. X tried to grab me. I let out a yelp as I leapt away and dashed for my parents’ en suite.
