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Couldn’t have told him you have appendicitis or something? He probably has no idea what that is, and even if he does, with the way I am shaking and sweating, he might have bought it.
“It won’t take long,” I murmur shakily, backing up and moving slowly toward the door. “I really am returning my friend’s books. She might need it for . . . uhm . . . an upcoming test.”
“I thought you said it was the library.”
Shit.
Did I?
“Yes, my friend who works at the library.”
“Do I look stupid to you?” Oh, he doesn’t want me to answer that.
“I’ll only be gone for an hour at most,” I say instead, still inching closer to the door.
Almost . . .
Almost there.
“Go back to your room and don’t come out until I tell you to.”
I shake my head, my fingers itching with the need to lunge for the door and hightail it out of here, and I’m surprised when Dennis makes no move to stop me. I don’t stop to question it as I turn around and rush to the door, grabbing the knob and twisting it, but . . . it doesn’t turn.
The door is locked.
No!
“I’m not foolish enough to leave the door unlocked,” he mocks, his deep, slurred voice penetrating my fear and frustration, but I don’t focus on that. I can’t.
My hope fades as I pull on the doorknob again, but it won’t open. It’s a double-sided deadbolt lock that Dennis installed shortly after my mom left to keep me from leaving the house. He sometimes forgets to lock it before passing out, and I had foolishly hoped that would be the case tonight. My eyes well up with tears, but I don’t let them fall. I refuse to cry and give this monster the satisfaction of seeing me break.
“Ow!” I cry out when he grabs my hair and tugs hard. Any other time, I would have given in to my defeat and let him drag me away, but this time, I have too much to lose. If Dennis goes ahead with his plan to pass me off to some stranger, then my life will be over. I will belong to someone else, and who knows what they might do to me.
This can’t happen.
I need to get away!
As his fingers coil tightly around my hair, I instinctively twist and turn, clawing at his hands and desperately trying to break free. Using every ounce of my strength, I pull away, feeling the sharp sting as strands of hair pull free from his grasp.
My heart pounds in my chest as I dart away from my stepfather. I circle the couch in an attempt to get away from him, but I have no plan. Essentially, I am locked in this house with a drunk, angry man.
Dennis follows me, his face bright red and fists clenched, but before he can get to me, he trips on a stray beer can and loses his balance. I watch in both horror and relief as the man drops, hitting his head on the coffee table on his way down.
The room falls silent.
I stand frozen, waiting for the monster on the floor to get up and resume his chase, but he doesn’t move a muscle.
“Oh my God, is he dead?” I whisper, panicked, and slowly walk toward him despite the fear tightening my chest. I nudge his arm with my foot, but he still doesn’t move. I crouch next to him and place a finger under his nose, letting out a relieved sigh when I find he’s still breathing.
Perhaps I shouldn’t be so relieved that Dennis is alive, as it means he could wake up any moment and unleash his fury on me. But despite how awful the man is, I can’t wish death on anyone. I need to get out of here before he wakes up though.
I look around the room for places he could’ve hidden the keys but come up empty. I even go into his bedroom, but all I find are more cans scattered everywhere. The stench of stale beer makes me gag, but I force myself to continue because I’m desperate.
Despite the sacrifice of my nostrils, I come back empty.
“Think, Mila,” I scold myself. “If you were a paranoid drunk, where would you hide your keys?”
The underwear drawer, maybe?
