42. Katy
42
Katy
I ’m in a room, in a house, in some cookie-cutter neighborhood. I can see backyards with swimming pools and trampolines. The window is nailed shut, and it looks like there’s a wired alarm, even if I could get the nails out.
The closet and bathroom are empty except for a toothbrush and toothpaste. Travel-size shampoo and a bar of soap are the only things in the shower. Dresser drawers are empty. There are no knick-knacks or even pictures on the walls. Unless I planned to smother him with a pillow that smells like a grandma or somehow sharpen my toothbrush into a shiv, I have nothing to defend myself with.
Think. Think.
He has a gun and a knife. Maybe I showed my hand too soon by fighting back in the bathroom. He doesn’t see me as meek and defenseless like he did that day in the alley.
THINK. THINK.
There must be something. A loose nail or screw? There are no lamps in the room, no books. I walk around testing all the knobs on the furniture, looking under everything. The bathroom is bare unless I want to beat him with a toilet scrubber.
I plop on the toilet seat in defeat and hear the shift of ceramic. Spinning, I grip the edges of the tank, and the top lifts.
“Holy shit,” I whisper shout.
The top of the tank comes off. It’s big, bulky, and definitely heavy, but if I can catch him off guard, maybe I can stun him long enough to grab the knife. No. I need to grab the gun. This is my only chance. There’s nothing else in these rooms, but it seems like such an absurd plan.
It’s the only plan.
The door has a locking keypad that makes a sound. I need to be on high alert for whenever he gets back. Fully removing the lid, I clutch it to my chest like it’s my lifeline. My eyes assess the room again, but instead of looking for a weapon, I’m looking for a vantage point.
Channeling my inner Viktor and Lincoln, I inspect every corner of the room. Do I make him come to me across the room? I could hide in the closet.
No. Neither of those would work because I’m stuck in here if the door closes. My best option is the element of surprise as soon as he walks in the door, hoping I can stop the door from closing. I glance behind me at the hand towel hanging up. I can use that to hopefully prevent the door from latching while I try to get his gun. At least it gives me a second option. Run.
Next to the door is a tall dresser. If I hide behind it, he’ll have to step into the room when he doesn’t initially see me.
Fuck. I already feel the weight of the ceramic. It’s going to be exhausting holding onto this for an undetermined amount of time. I’m glad I chose to save my energy earlier. I have a little boy and a hulking Viking to get back to, and I’ll be damned if I’m going down without a fight.