Hidden in Darkness (In Darkness #1)

Prologue

~ Lane ~

I know I have to run.

I know I have to get away.

But I can’t. I can barely move.

My hand hits my leg, and I’m shocked by how close it is. I jerk my hand back as everything compresses around me until I feel like I can’t breathe, but I can’t let the darkness take me. Not yet.

I know that I have to move.

There’s noise outside the room. I can hear it, but it’s getting farther and farther away from me. Desperately, I grip onto the noise since it’s the only thing that feels real at this moment.

Calm down, Lane. This is what you’re trained to do.

Is it? Am I trained for situations like this? Situations where I have been thrown into the darkness, where the walls collapse down tight on top of me until I can’t breathe? It’s almost bad enough that I can forget the throbbing that is consuming every inch of my body.

My hand is shaking as I strain my fingers in an attempt to reach down and touch my leg. My pants are wet, but I could have figured that out without even touching them. My wrist aches against the restraint, so I give in, letting myself rest at a more comfortable angle.

I need help. I need medical attention.

I need to get out.

I need to live.

The duct tape around my wrist is wet, slick with blood. I pull on it as the bruises scream, but I can’t stop because I don’t know when he’ll come back.

Five hours?

Five minutes?

Five seconds?

I need to get out.

Straining, I twist and pull my left arm as the tape bunches. The struggling is causing the blood to run against the tape until it begins to slide. My aching hand screams as I twist and pull until I feel it start to give. I pull it free and slump down in the chair.

Now just one more hand.

I feel like I’m going to pass out, and for a moment, I have to focus on staying alert.

My fingers are shaking as I reach over until my hand bumps into the arm of the chair.

This one is tight against the chair instead of loose like the other.

The tape on this wrist is dry, so I run my fingers over it until I feel a slight catch.

I can’t tell if it’s a ripple in the tape or the end of it, but I begin to dig at it with my fingernails.

Each bump of my left hand against my right makes it ache.

My hand feels like it’s broken, but I don’t think it is.

All I know is that each tug of the tape makes me want to scream, so I grit my teeth and pull.

I even my breath, breathing in for three seconds, breathing out for three seconds.

I can’t pass out.

My hand goes around and around, tugging and pulling at the tape, but I can’t tell how much is left. I can’t tell if I’m close to the end or still at the beginning.

I can’t tell anything in this dark world.

The tape pulls free, and I can’t help the smile that touches my face.

I’m free!

For now.

Instead of tossing the tape to the ground, I set it against my bleeding leg and begin to wrap it around the wound. I pull it tight and have to grit my teeth as I keep it pressed against the wound. I wind it again and again as heat begins to consume my body, telling me that I’m close to passing out.

I can’t…not yet.

I tuck the end of the tape in, praying it’ll stay. Slumping against the chair, I feel nauseous as sweat soaks my shirt. I have to waste a precious moment regaining my composure until I feel prepared to make my escape. If I make a single mistake, this will be over. I won’t get a second chance.

It doesn’t matter how much pain I’m in, I know that if I don’t make it out of here now, I will die.

Using my one good arm and the arm of the chair, I push myself to my feet, favoring my left leg. I know where the door is; it’s in front of me. But I can’t remember how far away.

Four feet?

Six feet?

It feels like a mile as I take my first step. My weight comes down on my leg, and I nearly fall to the ground, but I manage to steady myself. When I hit the door, I am elated. I have made it this far. I can make it. I can do this.

I set my hand against the cool metal door and slide it to the edge until I feel where the door meets the doorframe. Then I run my hand down until I hit the doorknob. Desperately, I grab onto it and pull.

It gives easily in my hand, making me want to grin at their mistake, but I can’t get the grimace off my face.

They’re not afraid of me escaping.

How far can a blind man go?

I’ll show them how fucking far I can go.

I step out into the hallway as I try to remember the path I was taken in through. Back when my world wasn’t consumed by darkness.

There were stairs. I remember the stairs that I was dragged down; now I just have to find them. With my good hand against the wall, I begin to walk. Each step as painful as the last. It feels like the world is closing in on me as the darkness consumes me.

There could be a man directly in front of me, and I would never see him until I am on him. They could be laughing at me as I drag my body through the hall, praying for stairs I am not sure I will ever find.

My hand touches a door and I debate opening it, but even if there is a gun sitting right inside, I can’t do anything with it. I am useless now.

No, I am not useless. I can get out of here.

My hand slides forward, dropping as the wall falls away. I don’t realize how much weight I had been pressing against it until I am falling forward. Desperately, I reach out, hoping to catch myself, but the moment my right hand hits, my wrist gives, and I slam down onto the stairs.

I dig the nails of my left hand into the step as I lie against them.

Well…I found the stairs.

I grab onto the next step and pull myself up, first placing one knee, and then the next as I crawl up them. I know I need to get to my feet, but I’m not sure I can. Carefully, I slide each hand forward, feeling my path as I edge up each step.

When my hand doesn’t reach another step, I stretch it out, feeling the path before me until I hit a wall. I slide my hand along it until I find a doorknob and turn it. I pull the door toward me, but it won’t give, so I push it away.

For all I know, I’m stepping right into the pit of vipers. I can’t check, I can just listen. As I step through the door, I feel the cool air on the left side of my face. Slowly I turn my head as if I could see something and move toward it.

Could this be a door leading out? Could it be this simple?

None of this has been simple so far.

My hand hits a door, and suddenly I can feel the cool metal. I move my hand until I find another handle and pull it open. The smell of fresh rain fills my nose as I grasp onto the sound of birds in the distance.

I have made it outside, but it doesn’t mean I’m free.

The wind blows, disrupting my hair and angering the wounds on my face.

I want to lie down. Just rest for a moment, but I know that if I do, I won’t get back up, and I can’t give up.

I’ve made it too far now, but doubt sets in regardless.

I have no idea where I’m at; I can’t grab a car and drive away.

I am lost in this world of darkness and can barely breathe.

My chest feels like it’s compressing as I take my first step.

I can hear gravel beneath my feet as I reach out, wishing to find a wall to support me.

There’s nothing left, making me feel like every step I take could lead to my death. Like I would fall into a pit and drop straight to hell.

Then I hear it.

A dog barking.

The sound is distant but steady.

A rhythm, almost.

Constant.

It could be leading me to my death, but it could also be leading me to my freedom.

So, I begin to walk. Slowly placing each foot in front of the other. It feels like a dream, almost like I am walking on nothing and everything. Carefully, I keep moving forward, forcing one step after the other.

The barking grows louder.

It feels like I’ve walked for hours.

Or days.

Or a lifetime.

I will reach that dog. I will reach it, and I pray that when I do, it will lead to my freedom from this hell.