Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Chloe
? Before the events of the Prologue. ?
The house felt wrong before anything actually happened, and I hated myself for not trusting that instinct sooner.
You know the movies where the girl stupidly doesn’t realize there’s a killer in her house until she’s stabbed because she makes excuses like, Oh no, I must’ve left the window open or the door unlocked. It was the breeze from the wind.
I strive daily not to be one of those girls, yet here I am.
I pull the nightgown over my head, the thin black cotton settling against my damp skin from the shower. Dad is on a work trip until further notice, so the house is quiet and still, other than my movement.
I glance over at the back of the chair in front of my vanity. I could’ve sworn that I left my towel draped over it before going back to the bathroom to do my nightly skincare routine.
But oddly, it’s not there.
What’s even odder is that the lamp light that sit’s on my end table is turned off, even though it was on moments ago as well.
I think for a moment that maybe the power has temporarily gone out, but my TV is still lit up on the wall across from the bed.
I search the room and see no movement or anything else that seems to be out of place, so I decide to take a few steps toward my lamp to turn it on.
That’s when I hear movement. It’s subtle, but there.
It is the unmistakable noise of something brushing against the floor behind my closet door.
My stomach drops into my ass and I feel slightly queasy.
I turn in the direction of the closet as my pulse throbs in my ears.
I don’t have my glasses on, so I can’t make out things that are too far away unless they are illuminated. The familiar shapes of the house blur together and are fully drenched in shadows.
I take careful and slow steps towards the closet door, praying to God that I don’t open it to find some serial killer or stalker behind it.
With my father’s position as a New York State Representative, it’s na?ve to think we won’t ever draw the wrong kind of attention.
I place my hand on the handle, trembling with fear and adrenaline.
My anxiety makes me want to recoil from the door and chuck myself through the second story window of the house onto the pavement outside instead. At least I’d be away from the possible serial killer out there.
Dead, but safe.
My hand shakes as I shakily grip and turn the handle, tightening my hand around it enough to pull it back in one swift motion.
Meow.
My heart skips a beat.
I brace myself with my hands on my knees as Goob, my almost deceased fat cat, wobbles out of the small closet.
“Goob, you scared the shit out of me.”
He replies with a meow as I let out a deep breath, turning back around to face the TV.
A gloved palm then crushes over my mouth, fingers digging painfully into my cheeks, smothering the scream before it fully forms.
I thrash out of pure instinct. I kick, try to twist and do my best to bite down on whatever part of them I can reach. It doesn’t matter. Whoever it is, is way stronger than I am.
My wrists are wrenched behind my back, shoulders screaming as something plastic cinches tight around them.
Another body steps in front of me and I can’t make out who any of these people are.
But the one in front of me is one hundred percent all man. I can tell by his figure and stance as he towers over me by at least a foot.
The firm hand leaves my mouth for mere seconds before returning, but this time with a white piece of cloth.
I shake my head wildly, tears already blurring my vision, trying to beg through the material still clamped over my lips and nose.
The words stay trapped in my throat.
I kick forward trying to get the man off of me, but then pain explodes across my face.
The strike is so hard that it has me fading in and out of consciousness.
They don’t try to force the white cloth on my face again. But my ears ring violently, and I can taste the blood that bleeds from my inner gums from where the fist landed.
The man throws me over his shoulder before I can collapse fully.
I feel a thump with every step he takes down the stairs as he holds me in place. Every familiar detail of the house passes by in pieces. The framed photos of my mom, dad and I, the shelf of trophies from when I was in gymnastics and Goob’s desperate meows fade in the background.
It feels surreal, like watching my own life being stripped away in one pull of the rug.
Cold air nips at my cheeks as we cross the threshold to outside.
The winter air is brutal on my bare skin, the thin nightgown offering no protection against it.
The driveway lights are off. Big surprise there.
A dark vehicle waits at the edge of the drive. A suburban-type SUV with tinted windows.
Another man dressed in all black swings the back door open to it, revealing an also black interior.
I’m thrown inside roughly.
Not guided. Thrown.
The door closes immediately after they chuck me in.
The vehicle reeks of bleach and it smells entirely too clean. It’s honestly off-putting.
The tires spin out gravel onto the pavement before smoothing out as we hit the main road.
I twist awkwardly, trying to sit up. As I do, my back presses against the seat.
At no point had I realized someone had climbed in beside me on the left before we departed.
I feel them before I fully register it. With the small amount of clothes I have on, I can feel the heat radiating through their layers of clothing.
My head slowly tilts toward the person.
My heart hammers in my chest as I desperately try to see who kidnapped me.
But they are all wearing ski masks. I can only make out their mouths and their eyes, but that is not near enough information to give to the police, if I ever get that far.
The vehicle picks up speed as we cruise onto the highway.
Panic then surges through me, “Please-”.
The person stationed beside me moves fast and a singe of pain reverberates into my neck.
For half a second, I don’t understand what’s happening.
Then the burn spreads and my limbs begin to feel heavy almost immediately. The panic in my chest lags behind my body’s sudden betrayal.
“No,” I whisper, the word barely leaving my mouth.
My vision slowly darkens.
The last thing I register is the person beside me steadying my body as I slump onto their lap.
Then the world around me disappears.