Chapter 7
After dressing as fast as possible, I darted out the bedroom door.
I shook my hands out and strode down the stairs.
There was all this nervous energy trembling through me, and I had to find an outlet for it before Grayson became suspicious.
At the foot of the stairs, my steps faltered, unsure of what to do or where Grayson was.
In daylight, I could see the subtle, cozy décor of the cabin.
The feeling the décor provoked was in stark contrast to how I actually felt about the cabin.
There was no way that Grayson had any part in decorating the place.
There was nothing comfortable or cozy about him.
As if summoned by my thoughts, the front door swung open, and he stepped in, proving my point—all the warmth leeched out of the walls, as his presence filled the space.
He wedged a log in front of the door to keep it from closing. I nervously wringed my hands.
“You can start by piling this wood,” he gestured with a nod of his head, “next to the fireplace.”
There was a heap of wood on the porch. I carefully stepped past him through the door.
A chilly breeze lifted my hair, making it dance and sway to its silent melody.
I inhaled deeply, the scent of pine and rich soil filling my soul.
There was no better smell than these woods.
None that I’d come across anyway. My crow friend sat in a tree at the edge of the clearing.
He rustled his feathers excitedly, like he knew it was killing my soul to be cooped up inside for so long.
“Hey!” Grayson barked, making me jump. I clutched at my heart and turned to him. “Either you work, or you go back upstairs.”
I inhaled deeply once again, this time to help me keep my composure and not say the train of curses that came to mind looking at him.
I started piling the wood onto my arm, cringing at the thought of the poor tree that had been cut down.
But this was good—menial labour to keep my nerves in check.
And it was nice doing something that required physical effort.
My body felt weak from all the days of inactivity.
My first pile was stacked on the criss-cross shelves that reached all the way up to the ceiling.
My mind wandered as I piled and stacked, piled and stacked the wood.
The cool breeze, although nice, was a warning from nature of colder months to come.
There wasn’t much time left. Few people could survive hiking these woods when winter was in full bloom.
I had to leave soon. And if I played my cards right, it could be tonight.
Just that thought sent my heart pumping into overdrive.
Shaking my hands again, to get rid of the excess energy, I piled another bunch of wood in one arm.
A half an hour later I was done. Grayson was cleaning what looked like two hunting rifles and a handgun.
I had almost peed myself when he first took them out of the closet under the stairs.
But he ignored my existence and went to sit at the dining table and took the handgun apart with frightening skill.
Which gun would he use to take my life? Or would it even be a gun?
I shook that thought off and reminded myself that I was getting out before that would happen. I was getting out tonight.
There wasn’t much else to do. They kept the cabin neat. There were only a few dishes in the sink from breakfast. So, I carefully moved past the dining table, and my captor, into the kitchen.
“Is there anything specific you would like me to cook for dinner?”
He didn’t look my way. “Cook whatever you want. Just be done before sundown.”
I nodded, although he couldn’t see it. After finishing the dishes, I checked what was in the fridge and food cupboard.
There were some strong herbs and spices that made my hopes and my mood lift.
It would come in handy. I decided on a stew, so I took out some meat of unknown origin from the freezer to let it thaw.
I then took out the spring onions I saw withering in the fridge and placed them, roots first, in a cup of water.
Grayson was watching me as I placed it in the kitchen window.
He was looking at me questioningly, with that one brow arched.
“It will keep growing if you give it some water and light. And it keeps the bugs away.”
He didn’t respond. Just continued with his work.
Grayson’s ongoing silence surprised me. There was no mocking or taunting or threats. “Do you have a broom?”
He gestured towards the closet that he pulled the guns from. I opened the closet door to find three hiking bags right at my feet. By the looks of it, they were fully stocked and ready to go. My heart soared. This had to be a sign from the gods. A gift to help me get out of this place.
Quickly, I picked up the broom and closed the door, trying not to raise suspicion.
I busied myself with sweeping away all the fallen splinters and dirt that flaked off the wood as I’d brought them inside.
My mind was going a mile a minute. Everything I could possibly need was right here.
Even more than I had bargained for. I just had to be patient. But that was easier said than done.
After I finished sweeping, I placed the broom back into the closet and looked around again. “Is there anything else I can do?”
Grayson was done with the guns and was wiping the last rifle clean with a rag. “No.” He looked up at me. “Do whatever you want. Just don’t be a nuisance.”
I scowled at him. Never had I ever been called a nuisance, and I really disliked him for saying it. “Does the TV work?” There was a flat screen television mounted over the fireplace.
“Only DVDs. In the cabinet over there.”
There were about fifty DVDs lined up. I read over the titles, some familiar, some not.
My eyes landed on the bookshelf in the corner.
There were a variety of genres as far as I could tell.
From science to poetry to fantasy books.
A collection of poems stood out to me, and I made my way to the couch with it.
Grayson had already made himself comfortable in an armchair, reading a book I didn’t recognise the title of, or could make out the genre from the looks of it.
It was surprising to see him read. I expected more gun cleaning or knife sharpening or one hundred push-ups to keep him fit for killing.
I opened the book and started on the first poem. I had read over it two and a half times before giving up and moving on to the next one. Nothing I read registered. My mind was running wild with what ifs.
“When to the session of sweet silent thought.” Grayson’s deep voice plucked me from my thoughts.
I looked at him questioningly. What did he just say?
His eyes dipped to the book in my hands and his mouth quirked up. “I said, is there something on your mind?”
Oh. He had quoted the first line of the Shakespearean sonnet I was trying to read.
Grayson eyed my knee bobbing up and down, and I tried to still it.
My body shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.
His threat had echoed in my head, over and over again.
“If you try anything, today will be your last.” It made me question whether I should stop what I was planning.
If my plan went to hell, like the previous one, I was going to lose my life sooner.
Then this would really be my last day. Was I prepared to die tonight?
My captor still glared at me. I decided to be sure. “I was just thinking about when and how you plan on killing me,” I said and swallowed loudly. “Will it be with one of those guns?”
He stared at me for a while longer before answering. “I haven’t decided yet.”
My chin started quivering. “Would you be honest with me, please? Is there any chance of me walking out of here alive?”
A glimmer of emotion slipped across his features before he looked away, back at his book. He didn’t answer me. He didn’t need to. It was written on his face.
I excused myself and climbed the stairs with uneasy legs. I had my answer. So my path forward was clear. I closed the bedroom door behind me and headed for the bathroom. I opened the tap and splashed cold water over my face. My fingers were trembling.
Be strong. You need your head clear right now.
I took a few steadying breaths and prayed to the gods to let my plan succeed. To help me free myself from that monster.
Back in the bedroom, I pulled the Jimson Weed seedpods out from under the mattress.
I pulled the pods open and took the seeds out and placed them in one of the pockets of my cargo pants.
My other pockets were already stuffed full of the semi-dried leaves and flowers of the Vervain.
I made sure they weren’t visible before going downstairs again.
The book of poems trembled in my fingers as I sat on the couch. But my mind was still. I was ready.