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Chapter Five
CARA
That fucker drugged me.
He fuckingdruggedme.
I passed out for who knows how long, and woke up to the sound of him pulling into my driveway on his motorcycle. That was at least a few hours ago and now the sun’s rising. I can’t see outside, but I can see small rays of sunlight peeking through the boarded up windows.
It’s exhausting to no longer know what day it is. He’s in complete control of everything I eat. Of everything I drink. Every time I’m allowed to get up and use the bathroom. He lets me go when I ask, but every time I feel the urge, I’m reminded of our encounter in the corn field when he caught me squatting over uneven rows of dirt. I’m sure I’ll be diagnosed with PTSD when all of this is over.
Ifall of this comes to an end and I make it out of this alive.
It has to, right? Surely he hasn’t been feeding me three meals a day just to kill me later. He has my entire house on lockdown. Every door. Every window. Every possible escape route.
But I’ve been working to free my hand from the cuff chaining me to my bed. Little by little, I’ve used my saliva as lubricant to wriggle the metal loop over my hand. It’s almost there. Itfucking hurts as it clamps down on my bones, grinding against them and shredding my skin with each push.
Rhett left my bedroom door open to watch me from across the hallway as he set up various computer monitors and cameras at his makeshift desk in my guest room. He made himself at home almost immediately after Halloween night, only adding to it since then. Clothes, surveillance equipment, and technology I can’t identify all came with him. I watched his eyes flutter closed not long ago, and he’s passed out over the desk now, head resting over his arms while he snores lightly, completely unaware of the progress I’ve made toward my escape.
I don’t know how much more spit I can make, but I try for one more wad, balling it in my mouth before leaning over my hand and letting it drip between the metal cuff and my opening flesh. The warm, thick liquid stings as it spreads, but I bite back the pain. Once it’s thoroughly coated and as good as I’m going to get it, I pinch my fingers together to narrow the bones of my hand as much as I can, and then I use my other hand to pull at the cuff. Silent tears fall from the corners of my eyes as the pain rips through me. My skin splits even more, and it bundles up like an accordion when the cuff finally gives. Sweat is pouring from me. The mixture of pure agony and adrenaline are pushing me through, and once I realize I’m free, my eyes dart toward where Rhett sleeps at the desk.
He hasn’t moved. He has no idea I’m no longer bound to this bed by his shackles.
And now I need to slip past him.
I quietly throw my legs over the side of the bed, pushing myself toward the edge and dangling my feet just above the floor.
This house is old.Reallyfucking old. And I already know each step will be met with a creak. Getting past him without waking him will be difficult, but he was up all night and shouldbe sleeping decently hard by now. The steady rhythm of his breathing tells me he’s in a deep sleep, which gives me the best chance of slipping past him. If I can just get down the hall, my chances of finding freedom are exponentially higher.
The wooden floor is icy against my feet as I rise from the bed. My knees crack in unison with the floor, making me wince when the sound hits my ears. I immediately look to Rhett, who still hasn’t moved. A soft sigh slips through my lips, and I muster up the courage to take the first few steps.
As expected, my old house groans as my bare feet pad across the floors. I hover in the doorway when I reach it, taking a moment to watch Rhett.
Still no movement.
Biting at the inside of my cheek, I hold my breath when I pass through the doorway. I almost lose my balance and fall when I let myself get too distracted by watching Rhett rather than the way my legs move around the turn.
“Fuck,” I mouth to myself without making a sound.
Sweat continues pouring out of me. I’m almost there.
My heart stops beating and my entire body freezes when Rhett shifts in his chair, grunting and grumbling nonsense in his sleep. I close my eyes, placing my hand over my chest as I realize he’s just dreaming, and I continue my trail of soft creaking noises down the hallway.
When I make it to the stairs I pick up the pace, scrambling to get to the bottom of the stairs as quickly and quietly as I can. The stairs groan the entire way down, but I keep going. The front door is just around the corner by the time I hit the bottom, and I’m sprinting toward it.
My heart drops into my stomach when I see just how many locks Rhett has installed on the door.
There’s at least a dozen, and they’re all different kinds. He did this on purpose. He knew it’d slow me down if this ever happened.
I have to stay focused. Now isn’t the time to lose control and freak out.
My fingers shake as I begin working the locks. The spot on my hand where my skin tore is on fire, burning as I desperately try to push the pain to the back of my mind. Each lock feels like an eternity as I undo it, twisting and turning my hand in different directions.
I’m on the second to last latch when I hear Rhett’s boots upstairs.
My knees buckle and I almost go down in a panic, but I force myself to stay upright.
Rhett’s voice erupts with a feral roar from the floor above me. “CARA!”
