Chapter 3
ELSIE
Nausea swirls in my gut as I quietly jog for the SUV, my sneakers keeping my footfalls silent even as my pulse pounds so heavily in my throat, I almost pass out.
When I finally reach the other side of the car, I open the door as silently as I can and slip inside, huddling as low to the floor as possible.
The echoes of my heartbeats rumble through my ears like a pair of heavy drums. Seconds and minutes drift by, and my anxiety only intensifies until I hear him coming closer. Until the car door opens and every single hair on my body rises to attention.
Please don’t look back here. Just drive.
The car finally starts to move, and that sigh of relief stays trapped in my lungs just in case he can hear it.
Kayla.
Tears slam into my eyes even as I try not to cry. I can’t believe I left her. What kind of friend does that? What if I never get her help? What if they beat her or kill her before I can return with the cops?
Michael makes a sharp turn, honking on the horn with a curse under his breath. The sound of a cell springs to life, and he immediately answers.
“Hey, princess. How was school today?”
Suddenly, the harshness from earlier melts away from his voice. In his place is someone softer, and I instantly want to know that man.
He’s a father? I never heard that when I’d eavesdrop.
“It was sooo good!” The sound of a cheery little girl springs to life. “Tawny brought slime to school, and we got to play with it at recess.”
He laughs, like a real kind of laugh. Like the laughter I miss. And my heart swells. This guy obviously loves this child.
“I’m glad you had a good day, baby.” His voice softens, and I’m left wondering how a man who glared so cruelly at me can sound so sweet. “Daddy missed you.”
“How about you, Daddy? Did you have a good day?” Her tone drips with honey.
“It’s about to get better since I’m going to see you in a few minutes.”
She squeals. “Are we still making pizza together for dinner?”
“I promised, didn’t I?”
“Yes…” She quiets, the bitterness seeping through.
“What is it, Sophia?”
“Um….” She pauses. “You don’t always keep your promises, Daddy.”
I bite into my inner cheek. That tinge of sadness is hard to miss and harder not to feel. And if that pause is any indication, he’s feeling it too right now.
“I’m sorry, princess. You’re right.” His exhale is harsh. “I’m going to do better. Work less.”
“That’s okay. I’m just kidding. I know you work very hard to pay for our house and all my toys.”
“Nothing is more important than you. Daddy loves you… You’re getting too big too fast.”
“Grandpa says I’ll be getting married before you know it.”
“Tell him you’re not getting married for another twenty years.”
The laughter of an older man comes through the line, and she bursts into a fit of giggles.
“Okay, Daddy, I’ll see you soon. Gonna go play now.”
“You finish your homework?” he hurriedly asks.
“Duh. Homework before playing,” she regurgitates as though she’s done it a million times.
I can almost see her rolling her eyes, and I try to stifle my own laugh.
Who are you really, Michael Marino?
“I will be checking it.”
“Okay, bye. Love you, Daddy.”
The call drops, and I realize I haven’t been paying any damn attention to getting the hell out of here.
From the sounds of it, we’re on a highway or a road with way too many cars.
I don’t want to get squashed on the street like a damn pigeon.
Maybe I can get out once we get to his house.
I’ll slip out of the driveway while he’s busy with his daughter. That sounds like a much safer plan.
For a few minutes, all I hear is the roar of traffic and his honking. The man is impatient as hell. Finally, the SUV slows, and with a click from inside the vehicle, the car rolls into darkness.
What the hell? Where are we?
His door opens and he climbs out, his footsteps thundering just as a beep sounds off and his door shuts. I’m immobilized for another few minutes, maybe more, my body tensing, a chill running down my spine.
What if he knows I’m here and he’s testing me? If I come out and he’s there, what the hell do I do? Can I beg for his compassion to save the girls? He seems to care for his daughter. Maybe that’ll carry over to us.
More time floats by until my legs prickle like they’re asleep. I need out of here. I’ll face his wrath if it comes to it. No way will I sit here and waste precious time. Kayla needs me.
A palm on the door, I push it open, gripping the handle in my unsteady grasp. When he doesn’t jump out at me, it gives me courage to open it fully.
Still staying low, I gradually step out, finding myself in a massive garage, my feet hitting the concrete below. Four cars are spread out across the space: an orange and blue sports car on one side of me, and two SUVs on the other. There’s even a damn circular sofa.
The rumors weren’t wrong. He’s loaded. I tiptoe toward the garage door, trying to gently lift it up, but it’s locked.
Fuck! Fuck!
There are two other doors here—leading into the house, I presume. Scrambling toward one of them, I gently press my ear to it, hearing no voices. My heart beats so quickly, I swear it’ll stop at any moment.
This was a mistake. What have I done?
If this man finds me in his home, he’ll kill me. He doesn’t seem like the type of person who takes kindly to strangers breaking in.
My heart practically climbs out of my throat as I place my hand on the cold brass handle and turn it all the way, not sure what to expect behind it. I don’t even know what door he went through. What if he’s inside?
I gulp down the fear, but it’s still there, draping me in dread, skin prickling from the mingled panic and chill in the air.
I’m only in a black tank top and yoga pants, the usual attire they provide us—unless we’re entertaining, then it’s tiny dresses and high heels.
Luckily, I’m not wearing that right now.
The hairs on my arm strain at my skin as I drag the door open.
I hold my breath in my lungs, expecting him to jump out, but I don’t hear a sound.
The room’s dim, just enough light to see where the hell I am.
As quietly as possible, I drag the door to a close, scurrying past the narrow hallway and into a spacious room.
I wander toward the glossy black bar, set against the wall on one side with bottles of liquor lined up on all three shelves and six black swivel stools waiting for someone to fill them.
There are even sofas here. The entire place is immaculate.
But the one thing that catches my attention is the massive fridge to my left and what looks to be a meat freezer set in the corner. It’s seemingly out of place, like it’s been left there and forgotten about.
The wood creaks beneath my feet, my gasping breaths loud, and I’m terrified someone will hear them. My eyes fall to every inch of the room, trying to find a place to hide.
This was a stupid idea. He’s bound to find me. But there’s no other choice. I can’t get out of the garage, and I certainly can’t run into the house when he’s home. Maybe I can dash out of the front door once he leaves and his daughter is in school. I should hear his car drive off from here.
This will be fine. I’ll be okay.
But I do a really crappy job at convincing myself.
My mouth’s dry and my stomach is growling, the hunger swelling. The last thing I ate was a plate of spinach, and breakfast included one tiny pancake. I couldn’t even eat the whole thing. One side was moldy.
My gaze jumps to the fridge again, like a single bottle of water in a desert.
And even as I try to mask the terror, I rush for it, quickly pulling it open.
My eyes enlarge, scanning the contents within: sandwiches, water bottles, fruit, you name it.
There’s everything I could possibly need here.
I’m sure he has food in the kitchen. Would he notice if I took a little here and there?
From the looks of this place alone, he probably won’t.
I’m sure the inside of his home is stocked with enough food to feed an army.
My hand snaps a water bottle, taking it with me.
I’ll start with that and one of the containers of blueberries.
Before I close the fridge, I grab a sandwich too, not caring what’s in it.
I’d eat anything right now. I’ll hide under the bar top and take the food there with me. There’s nowhere else to go.
Maybe he doesn’t even come here. I’m sure there are plenty of rooms in his fancy home he could be in.
I take what I need, rushing behind the bar, settling on the floor, and placing the sandwich and blueberries down. But before I can even open the bottle, the door squeaks, and a rush of a breath escapes through my lungs.
I press a gentle hand over my mouth, fingers trembling as footfalls thump across the floor, nearing me. I force my eyes shut, keeping the water steady in my grip. If I so much as move or make a sound, he’ll discover me here.
I will my lungs to work.
Just breathe, but don’t make a sound.
In.
Out.
The shallow sounds of my inhales and the sound of my raging pulse are loud in the silence of the room. I hope he doesn’t hear them.
Please, just leave.
I can’t die. Kayla needs me.
But the footsteps crunch closer until they stop. And as my body trembles and my foot bounces with a tremor, the bottle falls out of my hand and rolls out.
No! Fuck! I practically let out a silent cry.
“Hello?” A tiny voice of a little girl comes through, and my pulse hammers. “Is someone here?”
Oh my God.
My heartbeats pound like fists, and I ball my hands, fear crawling up my body.
If she finds me, she’s going to tell her father.
“I know you’re there,” she continues, the floor creaking beneath her feet. “You can come out. I won’t hurt you.”
She continues closer until I see her bare foot coming from my right and she’s standing right in front of me, our eyes connecting, her gaze widening.
“Sophia!” Michael hollers. “What did I tell you about coming in here?”
My eyes bulge; hers stick to mine as I frantically shake my head.
This is it. This is how I die. I’ll never get to Kayla now.
I’m sorry.