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As he moved toward the window, peering out into the darkness, Megan's mind raced. This might be her only chance. She had to do something, anything, to try and escape.
Her wrists burned where the ropes bit into her skin, but she forced herself to focus. Slowly, carefully, she began to rotate her hands, testing the bonds. They were tight, but not impossibly so. If she could just create a little slack...
Dr. Reeves was still at the window, muttering to himself about cosmic signs and divine intervention. Megan tuned him out, concentrating on the small movements of her hands. She could feel the ropes starting to loosen, just a fraction.
Emboldened, she increased her efforts, ignoring the pain as the rough fibers scraped against her skin. A bead of sweat trickled down her forehead, but she didn't dare move to wipe it away.
Just when she thought her wrists might give out, she felt it—a sudden give in the ropes. Her right hand slipped free.
Megan's heart leapt, but she forced herself to remain still. Dr. Reeves was still by the window, but he could turn around at any moment. She had to time this perfectly.
With agonizing slowness, she began working on the ropes binding her left hand. It was easier now that she had one hand free, but still painfully slow. She could hear Dr. Reeves moving around the room, muttering about preparing for unexpected guests.
Finally, her left hand came free. Megan allowed herself a small breath of relief, but she knew she wasn't out of danger yet. Her ankles were still bound to the chair legs.
She leaned down as much as she dared, her fingers fumbling with the knots. They were tight, seemingly impossible to undo. Panic started to rise in her throat. She was so close, but if she couldn't get her feet free—
"What do you think you're doing?"
Megan's blood ran cold. She looked up to see Dr. Reeves standing over her, his face a mask of fury. The candlestick was back in his hand, raised high.
In that moment, instinct took over. Megan threw herself sideways, chair and all. She hit the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of her. But the old chair couldn't take the force—it splintered, freeing her legs.
Dr. Reeves lunged for her, but Megan was already rolling. Ignoring the pain from her fall, she scrambled to her feet and ran for the door. She could hear him behind her, his breathing heavy, punctuated by mad ramblings about cleansing and cosmic justice.
Megan's hand closed around the doorknob. For one heart-stopping moment, she thought it might be locked. But then it turned, and she burst out into the cool night air.
The forest loomed before her, dark and foreboding. But it was her only chance. Without hesitation, Megan plunged into the trees.
Branches whipped at her face as she ran, her bare feet stumbling over roots and rocks. She could hear Dr. Reeves crashing through the underbrush behind her—close, too close. His voice carried through the night, alternating between coaxing and threatening.
"Come back, Megan! You don't understand—this is for your own good! Your soul needs cleansing!"
Megan didn't waste breath responding. She focused every ounce of her energy on running, on putting as much distance between herself and the madman behind her as possible.
She had no idea where she was going. The woods all looked the same in the darkness, and she had lost all sense of direction in her panic. But she knew she couldn't stop. Stopping meant death.
As she ran, her mind flashed back to earlier that evening. How normal everything had seemed. She had been leaving Dr. Reeves' seminar, her mind buzzing with thoughts about his talk on finding inner peace. He had approached her in the parking lot, all smiles and charm, asking if she'd like to discuss the seminar further over coffee.
She should have seen the signs. The way his eyes had gleamed with an unsettling intensity. The slight tremor in his hand as he'd gestured toward his car. But she'd been flattered by his attention, proud that the respected Dr. Reeves had singled her out.
Now, as she fled through the dark forest, the memory seemed like it belonged to another person.
A root caught her foot, sending her sprawling. Megan hit the ground hard, leaves and twigs scraping her exposed skin. For amoment, she lay there, the wind knocked out of her. Then she heard it—the sound of footsteps, getting closer.
Panic gave her a fresh surge of energy. Megan scrambled to her feet, ignoring the pain from her fall. She started running again, but she could tell she was slowing down. Her lungs burned, and her legs felt like lead.
"I can hear you, Megan!" Dr. Reeves called out, his voice far too close for comfort. "You can't escape your destiny. The stars themselves guide my hand!"
Megan's breath came in ragged gasps, and she could feel a stitch forming in her side. She couldn't keep this up much longer. She needed to hide, to find some way to throw Dr. Reeves off her trail. But where? In the darkness, every tree looked the same, every shadow a potential hiding spot—or a trap.
As she pushed through a dense patch of undergrowth, Megan's hand brushed against something solid. She paused, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure Dr. Reeves must be able to hear it. Carefully, she felt the object again. It was rough and vertical—a tree trunk, but larger than the others around it.
Megan ran her hands around the trunk. It was huge, far wider than she could encircle with her arms. An old-growth tree, ancient and imposing. And on one side, she felt it—a gap in the bark, an opening large enough for a person.
Without hesitation, Megan squeezed into the hollow tree. It was a tight fit, the rough interior scraping against her already battered skin, but she didn't care. All that mattered was that she was hidden.
She held her breath, listening. For a moment, all she could hear was the frantic beating of her own heart. Then, footsteps.
