Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Eliza
The morning sun hadn’t yet cleared the horizon when I heard the front door creak open. Expecting to see Grandma returning from her early walk, I got up, ready to greet her with a smile. But the figures standing in the doorway wasn’t only Grandma—it was Mark, battered, bruised, and very much alive. My breath hitched in my throat, a scream escaping me as I staggered back, my hand flying to my mouth.
“Mark! You’re—you’re supposed to be dead!” My words tumbled out, edged with horror and disbelief.
He limped into the living room, a sinister smile twisting his bruised face. “Surprise, Eliza. I bet you never expected to see me again. Someone did come to kill me, but I got the better of him. Ran before anyone could find out I was still breathing.”
His explanation churned my stomach, the implications horrifying. Mark continued, his tone chillingly calm, “Now that everyone thinks I’m dead, I can finally have what I want. You and Emma. We’re leaving, Eliza. Today. We’ll come together as a family once more.
I backed away, shaking my head in denial. “No, Mark. You can’t just come back from the dead and expect us to be a family again! What about your other family? The one you hid from us?”
He waved dismissively, his eyes cold. “They were nothing. I only want you and Emma.”
Before I could argue further, a knock sounded at the door. Mark stiffened, and a wave of panic washed over me as he pulled a gun from behind his back.
“It’s probably your biker boyfriend,” he sneered, peeking through the curtain. Turning to his mother, who stood by, frozen with fear, he ordered, “Tell him Eliza and Emma left because of him. Tell him to go away.”
Grandma nodded, her face pale with fear, as she opened the door just a crack. Through the gap, I saw Knox, his expression one of worry and determination. But he didn’t see me.
“Where are Eliza and Emma? I need to see them,” he said urgently.
“They’re gone,” Grandma’s voice trembled as she spoke. “Took Emma and left early this mornin’… She said… she said she couldn’t stay here, not after knowin’ what you did… what you’re capable of. She’s scared, Knox.”
Knox’s face fell, the pain evident in his eyes. Grandma stepped out to tell the lie some more.
As the door closed, a sob caught in my throat. Mark, furious, turned to me, his grip tightening on the gun. “If you try anything like that again, I swear—”
I didn’t get to hear the rest of his threat. At that moment, Emma, who had slipped upstairs in the commotion, emitted a high-pitched scream from her room. Reacting instinctively, I shoved against Mark with all my strength, trying to break free from his grasp. We tumbled to the ground, his hand clamping over my mouth as I struggled beneath him.
“Stay quiet!” he hissed, pressing the gun into my side.
Upstairs, I could hear Emma’s frightened cries, each one like a dagger to my heart. Grandma rushed into the room, her eyes expanded with panic, as she looked down at us.
“Mark, let her go! This isn’t right!” she pleaded, her voice cracking.
Mark glowered at her, then at me under him, his resolve faltering as he seemed to realize the gravity of what he was doing. My mind raced, desperation clawing at me as I sought any way to protect Emma and escape this nightmare. But with Mark’s weight pinning me down and the cold press of the gun against my ribs, my options were dwindling fast.
All I could do was hope that Knox would realize the truth—that Grandma’s words were forced and that he wouldn’t give up on us so easily. My heart ached for Knox’s return, for a rescue that seemed increasingly like a fading dream.
Then I heard sirens. As they grew louder, a twisted smile spread across Mark’s face. He pressed harder into my back, his voice a triumphant hiss. “Hear that, Eliza? They’re coming for your biker, just like I planned.” His grip was suffocating, his body heavy against mine as he kept me pinned to the floor, a glaring reminder of the desperate situation.
Grandma stood frozen, her face etched with fear and conflict as another knock resounded through the house, more urgent this time. “Answer it,” Mark ordered sharply, not loosening his hold on me for a second.
Trembling, Grandma moved toward the door, casting a worried glance back at us before opening it and stepping mostly outside. Two police officers were right there, their expressions serious. “We’re looking for Eliza Martin. We have her partner, Knox, in custody, and evidence that implicates him in the murder of Mark Martin,” one officer explained.
Grandma’s voice wavered as she responded, a lie forming quickly under pressure. “Eliza’s gone. She ran… running away from Mr. Knox.”
Just then, Emma, my heart, appeared at the doorway, her small face crumpled in confusion and fear. Grandma quickly scooped her up, shielding the house, Mark and I from the officers’ prying eyes.
I lay motionless, watching helplessly, the officers’ words echoing in my ears. It was all a lie, a terrible setup, and here I was, unable to scream the truth. Mark’s hand was firm over my mouth, his threat clear in the pressure of his fingers.
Once the officers left, seemingly satisfied with Grandma’s answers, the door shut with a finality that sank deep into my bones. Only then did Mark finally remove his hand, allowing me to draw a full breath, though it did little to ease the panic gripping me.
“Why didn’t you tell them?” I gasped at Grandma, tears streaming down my face.
She looked down, her eyes filled with a turmoil that spoke volumes of her inner conflict. “Mark is my son, Eliza,” she said quietly, her voice breaking. “I thought… maybe he deserves a second chance.”
The betrayal stung, more painful than any physical wound. Before I could reply, Mark produced a roll of duct tape, his actions swift and practiced. He taped my mouth shut, then bound my hands and feet with a cold efficiency that chilled me to the core. Emma whimpered beside me, her little body trembling as he did the same to her.
We were left on the floor, bound and helpless, as Mark paced the room, muttering plans under his breath. The reality of our situation was stark and terrifying. Here we were trapped, betrayed by family, and with the man I loved taken away by a lie.
My mind raced, despair mingling with a fierce determination. Somehow, I had to protect Emma, had to find a way out of this nightmare. I glanced at my daughter, her eyes wide with fear, yet trusting me to make it right. That trust, that unspoken belief in me, reignited a spark of purpose.
No matter what, I would find a way to save us both, to break free from Mark’s twisted grasp and clear Knox’s name. My fight was far from over, and I clung to the hope that somehow, someway, the truth would prevail.