✧ 9 ✧
Ilya waited until Charlie was out of sight, way up the stairs, then hurried along that long corridor where he saw what he thought was a side door that would lead him out of this shithole.
His footsteps were swift but quiet. Who knows what kind of freak Charlie was; he might hear him and tear him apart.
His watch abruptly beeped, yielding a jump from him.
"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered as he grappled with his device to shut it up.
The device stopped beeping. The number on the screen was 60. It wasn't as low as Ilya thought it would be by now. Maybe that drink Charlie gave him helped a bit, but still, Ilya was pushing his luck.
He was running on fumes.
With his heart pounding insanely in his little chest, Ilya reached the side door and grabbed the handle. He twisted it, but to his disappointment, it was locked. And the key was nowhere to be found.
"Fuck."
Time was running out. Charlie could be on his way down any minute now.
Ilya returned to the living room and tried to open the front door. He barely managed to get a hold of the handle with his sweaty jittery hands. Of course, the door was still locked. It jiggled a bit, making a slight sound that frightened him.
Ilya gaped at the stairs, hoping Charlie didn't hear that.
Still no sign of the big guy.
Ilya took a deep breath, then scanned around the door, left and right, up and down. He looked back up and found the key on a screw above the door. However, it was hanging way up for him to reach, but far enough for giant Charlie to reach.
Ilya gritted his teeth and quietly cursed. Then he turned around and found something that would help him reach the key—a sofa chair right next to the couch he had napped on.
With a weak grip from both hands, Ilya began pulling the chair to the door. Once it moved, small creatures ran out from under it, squealing and scattering everywhere.
"Eek!"
Ilya yelped and jumped away. He suppressed a squeak of revulsion behind a pout. His hands raised stiff and shook in disgust. Those icky rats scrambled in every direction, fully occupying the living room before they disappeared behind other pieces of furniture.
This house was full of trash, mold, cockroaches, and now rats! One of them even crawled on his shoe.
"Oh, God." Ilya swallowed bitterly. "That's so gross."
When the revulsion shock wore off, Ilya continued to drag the chair to the desired location. It only took a couple more pulls and Ilya was able to climb it and take the key.
"Yes," he excitedly whispered.
He hopped down and quickly inserted the key in the keyhole, twisting it and finally unlocking the front door.
Ilya wasted no time running out of that place, leaving the door open behind him.
It was freezing outside. Soft powdery snow started to fall, carried by the December wind. The sun had set beyond the dark horizon. The town looked peaceful at night, with little lighting and no shooter to disrupt its serenity.
Ilya trailed his way back to the train station. It took him some time, but he found it. It wasn't hard to miss in this small town.
Then suddenly, a terrifying roar came from the direction of Charlie's house.
"Jesus Christ!"
Ilya gasped and ran as fast as he could until he was standing on the platform. He looked left and right and saw the headlights of a coming train. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting Charlie to be right behind him.
Out of breath and shaking in the wintery weather, Ilya hugged himself and waited.
"Come on, come on, come on."
Ilya feared that the train wouldn't arrive in time.
Then he remembered his phone! He dropped it around here somewhere.
Ilya quickly got on all four and started searching the lightly white-covered ground. His hands turned pink from touching the cold snow as he swiped them on the platform, helplessly trying to find his phone.
He saw a light reflecting on something next to his hand. He moved his hand and touched that thing. A shaky sound came out of Ilya's throat that sounded like something between a cry and a laugh.
He found it. He found his phone.
Ilya started laughing with tears.
He swiped the snow from the screen, but it was black. His phone must have shut down from the cold. Ilya pressed the power button on the side and waited for his phone to start back up.
As soon as it turned on, a flashing warning showed up on the screen. 'Battery 0%.' Then it turned off again.
"Aaaah!" Ilya let out a scream of frustration. "Gimme a fucking break!"
The engine's rattling was getting nearer. Ilya spun to see that it was only seconds away from arriving. The ground vibrated under his feet. He slipped his phone in his pocket and got up. His leg was pouncing nervously as he remained there defenselessly while a crazy person was tracking him down.
Ilya watched his surroundings just in case Charlie was near.
He thought he saw something move behind him, but maybe it was just his anxiety taking over. He couldn't hear anything but the loud rumbling of the train.
Ilya shook his head when the images around him blurred. He was getting dizzy again. He almost lost his balance but spread his legs to pin his feet on the ground and keep himself from collapsing.
The train arrived and slowly stopped. Ilya got closer. His breathing accelerated as the anticipation of finally escaping was intense.
Once the doors opened, Ilya beamed and grabbed one of the doors to pull himself in.
"Oh, thank God."
Ilya climbed in, but before his foot could touch the floor of his ride, something grabbed him.
"No!" A familiar gruff voice shouted. "Wrong train!"
A painful grasp yanked the boy right out of the train and sent him falling onto the concrete floor. Ilya gasped, feeling his back ribs cracking and knocking the air out of his lungs.
All Ilya could see as he was falling were the white snowy clouds in the sky. Snowflakes danced their way onto his flushed cheeks. Some lay on his heavy lashes as they steadily moved to cover his eyes.
His head took a heavy blow that left him dazed. He lay there, not moving. His eyes were weary as he wheezed and suffered the impact of the fall.
A giant blurry figure stooped over him.
"Ah, bloody hell! Did I hurt you?"
And that was the last thing Ilya saw before passing out.