Chapter 39
39
TEGAN
Pleading with them hasn’t worked.
Trying to bond with Polly hasn’t worked.
Stabbing her with a fork hasn’t worked.
If I’m going to get out of here, I have to do something else. I’ve got to get on my feet, because it’s clear that’s the only way I’m leaving.
I wait until the house is completely silent. Even though I can’t make out any conversations, I’m able to hear the sounds of footsteps on the floor above me. Hank’s boots are particularly distinctive—they sound like bolts of thunder. When those sounds vanish, I assume Hank and Polly have gone upstairs. I then wait another hour, just to be sure.
I’m taking a huge risk, but I have to do this to save myself and save my daughter. I’ll have to be extremely quiet. Even if Polly and Hank are asleep, any sounds from the first floor could wake them up. The thought of Hank catching me on the first floor of the house, trying to leave, is nothing short of terrifying. And I’m in no shape to run from him. I can only imagine what he’ll do to me if he catches me.
If he catches me.
My eyes have adjusted to the dark, which is a good thing, because I’m too scared to turn on the lights. In the shadows, I can make out the stairs leading to the first floor. I listened carefully when Polly went back upstairs, and I didn’t hear any locks turning, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one. Even if I make it all the way up the stairs, I may not be able to leave.
But they might not have locked the basement door because they don’t think I’m capable of climbing the stairs. And if I get out of this basement, I’m going straight for the keys to Hank’s truck. My right leg is fine, more or less, so I should be able to drive. I’m not going to stop till I get to a hospital.
Okay, here I go.
I am lying in the very center of the bed. I work the controls to lift the head of the bed all the way up to try to give me some leverage. And…
Why do I feel so dizzy?
Mommy, I don’t feel so good.
This is the most vertical I’ve been since I arrived here. My forehead breaks out in a cold sweat, and for a split second, it almost feels like I’m going to pass out. I take a few deep breaths, and the lightheaded sensation eventually subsides.
I’m okay. I can do this. I’m okay.
Now that my head is no longer swimming, I look around the room, which is poorly lit and mostly shrouded in shadows. I squint into the darkness, trying to assess the dimensions of the basement. It’s relatively small, like the rest of the house, and the distance to the foot of the stairs from the foot of my bed is only about ten feet. It’s not far at all.
While I’m contemplating my next move, something catches my eye in the corner of the room. The far right corner, which is farther from any windows and darker than all the other corners. It almost looks like…
Something is moving.
My breath catches in my throat at the flash of movement. Something is there—I’m sure of it. I had thought I was alone here in the basement. But what if I’m not alone? What if Hank has been here the whole time, watching me? Watching me sleep. Watching me panic. And watching me suffer. What if he’s been listening to every conversation Polly and I have had, and he’s making sure that she doesn’t allow me any chance to escape? What if…
Wait.
Oh, thank God. It’s just a rat.
I can’t say I’m not a little disgusted that I’m sharing my living space with a rodent that likely slipped inside to avoid the cold, but it’s still far better than the alternative. A rat isn’t going to do anything to hurt me. It’s just disgusting.
I push the balls of my hands against the bed to shift my considerable body weight to the right, figuring I’ll be able to get out of bed on the right side more easily, with my non-injured leg. I get a flash of that electric pain down my right leg, which isn’t pleasant, but I’m able to breathe through it.
You can do this, Tegan.
I manage to swing my right leg partially out of the bed. The electric pain is bad but nothing I haven’t dealt with before. Now it’s time to move my left leg. I take a deep breath and grab my left thigh with my hands to shift it over.
But the second my left leg moves on the mattress, a shock of pain goes through my entire body that makes my sciatica pain pale by comparison. It’s eye-watering pain. It’s enough to make me gasp and stop me in my tracks.
Oh. My. God.
I didn’t think the pain would be that bad. I haven’t tried to put weight on it yet. I haven’t even swung it out of bed yet, but the pain is blinding. There’s no chance of powering through this pain—it is all-encompassing.
And it’s getting worse.
I stare down at the boot that is still covering my left foot. I refused to allow Polly to remove it because it hurt too much and I thought I’d be at a hospital soon, but now I wish I had. There’s nothing good happening under that boot. The worst part is that although the pain is overwhelming, I can barely feel my foot. The entire leg is just a mass of pain but without any footlike sensations.
Wiggle your toes.
I attempt to wiggle the toes of my left foot. I can’t tell if they’re moving since I’ve got that stupid boot on, but I definitely can’t feel them. This is not a good sign.
My eyes fill with frustrated tears. I can’t get out of this bed. I can’t save myself and Tuna. We are all at the mercy of that terrible man.