Chapter 6
ELSIE
The large clock on the wall to my right reads six in the morning, and I’ve been up for hours. I could barely sleep for a solid thirty minutes, weaving in and out of consciousness all night, worried I would be discovered.
The second I heard him walk in yesterday, calling his daughter’s name, I thought I was certainly dead, but that little girl with her brown hair and full brown eyes didn’t give me up.
I don’t know why. Maybe because she saw my tear-stricken gaze.
Maybe she felt sorry for some random woman hiding in her home.
But whatever the reason for her kindness, I was spared, and the next time, I might not get this lucky. I have to try and get out of the house, no matter the risk. Because staying here is a bigger one.
My fingers slip into the carton of blueberries I stole earlier, along with a turkey and cheese sandwich I’ve already devoured. Two empty bottles of water lie before my feet, my ever-growing collection.
I’m not greedy. I only take as much as I need to stifle that stabbing hunger.
Leaning back against the wall, I think about Kayla and what she’s probably going through, and pain meets my eyes. They’ll blame her and punish her because of me while I’m sitting here not doing a damn thing to help her.
My eyelids grow heavy, and I doze in and out. Maybe I can catch a quick ten-minute nap without being spotted. I settle further into my little corner, but as I do, the door creaks and heavy footsteps drudge forward.
And in an instant, I’m fully awake, like someone doused me with ice water. I hold a breath in my chest, afraid to move, to make any sudden noises.
“Make sure you’re here in an hour.” Michael’s cold, deep voice punctures me like a knife. “Do not be late.”
The way he says that, no one would think to go against him. He’s terrifying, and I don’t want to be the one to know that side of him.
There are a few seconds of silence until I realize he must’ve hung up. He stomps across the floor, and my entire body comes alive, a shivering sensation running down both arms.
What the hell is he doing here?
The fridge door opens, and the sound of a plastic bag fills the air.
Crap, he’s going to know someone took the food.
He rummages in there for a minute before the fridge bangs shut, but instead of leaving, he eats away the distance between us, and the clank of a bottle lets me know he’s only a few inches away.
My pulse slams in my neck, the adrenaline causing my insides to shudder, my stomach in tight knots. If he even so much as looks over the bar, he’ll see me. My arms huddle around my upturned knees, pressed to my chest.
Glass clanks over me, and when he starts shifting further and further away and the door clicks shut, I breathe out the biggest exhale, and the vile need to vomit hits me hard. I grab a bottle of water beside me and take small sips.
Whoever he’s meeting in one hour, I sure as hell hope it isn’t here in this room. But just in case, I have to find a way out before that hour is up and he finds me.
Quickly coming out, I slowly tread for the door until I reach it. My hand hits the knob, and I twist even as my skin breaks with an icy chill. But as I pull the door with all my might, nothing happens.
“Wha…no.” I shake my head on a low cry. “It can’t be…no!”
But no matter how long I keep trying, it’s pointless. The door is locked. Panic like I’ve never known hits me, my hand trembling as it jumps to my mouth.
All I can do is stare at the door, tears now rolling silently down my cheeks. I have to go. I can’t be here.
I’d beg for his forgiveness. For him to let me go. To help me save my friend. He has to help. But knowing his level of cruelty from the rumors I’ve heard, I know he won’t.
I slap a hand under my eyes, not wanting the tears. They won’t help anyone.
After staring at the door for who knows how long, I return to my hiding spot and cry. The tears may not help a soul, but they’re all I have. So I let it out, right here in my enemy’s home, not caring at all if he hears me. Not anymore.
“Shut the hell up!” a man I don’t recognize shouts.
I startle, eyelids flashing open, my heartbeats rattling inside.
Shit. How long have I been sleeping?
“Save those tears, Smitty,” the same person continues. “It’s going to get a lot worse for you.”
“Pleeease,” he openly sobs, fear trickling in his voice. “I didn’t take nothing from you.”
“That’s a lie.” Michael speaks this time, and I can practically hear the wicked amusement in his voice.
What sounds like a chair grinds across the floor, then the man’s screaming, over and over until my ears bleed, until my flesh breaks with goose bumps.
I can only imagine what they’re doing, and from the sounds of what I think are punches and things breaking, it’s nothing good. My body practically retracts into itself, and I shiver as I hide my head into my raised knees.
He’s going to do this to me when he finds me. I tremble, my body in full-blown panic. He’s going to torture me, break me like every man before him.
I should’ve died. I should’ve opened his car door and jumped out to my death.
“You stole from me, Smitty.” His tone is sharp, like a parent scolding a child. “Now, if you admit it, I’ll be easier on you.”
He says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s a prize he’s offering this man.
“P-p-please…I—I didn’t do it. Too-took nothin’.” He continues to weep, every second the cries pierce out, only getting louder.
“Come on, Smitty. I don’t like liars.” His shoes thump loudly. “I’ll make you hurt worse just for that.”
“P-please, Michael. I—I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” he grates, and this time the rage in his voice has my eyes widening.
What could this man have taken?
Then it hits me. The food? Could it be that? Is that why Michael was looking in the fridge today? Did he realize stuff was taken and is blaming this guy?
Michael mocks him with a tsk. “Things have disappeared, Smitty, and you were the one with access.”
His footsteps slink closer to where I am, and my entire body trembles, my teeth clenching and rattling within my mouth.
“You disappoint me.”
“But I didn’t t-t-take it. Maybe it was s-s-someone else.”
“Tie him up,” Michael says, and Smitty snivels as sounds of another chair come through.
“Pliers,” Michael demands, like he’s asking to pass the potatoes.
I suck in an audible breath, my stomach churning, pulse speeding, beating loudly in my ears.
What’s he going to do with those?
“One last chance. I’m not a patient man.”
But Smitty just keeps wailing.
The rhythm of my heartbeats drums inside me until my chest grows heavy with every tattered breath.
Michael sighs, as though with boredom. “Suit yourself. This will be painful, and you’ll wanna die. But…” Another chair drags across the floor. “If you admit it now and don’t waste my time, I’ll kill you faster. One shot into your brain, and you won’t even know what hit you.”
The man sobs. “I di—ahhh!”
The words die in his throat, replaced by a scream so brutal, I’ll hear it for as long as I live.
My palms cover my ears, tears running down my face, imagining what’s being done to him, all because of me. I can’t let Michael hurt someone who doesn’t deserve it. But if I reveal myself, I’ll be on the receiving end of this.
Oh, God. I cry silently, eyes falling closed, tears continuing to spill.
I don’t know how much time passes, but the screaming gets louder, as though the man is on the brink of death.
I can’t listen to this anymore. Allowing another person to pay the price for what I did isn’t how my parents raised me. It’s not the type of person I want to be. I’m better than this. I’ve never let fear cause me to cower before, and I won’t start now.
“Should I begin with your other hand?” Michael roars. “Or will you finally admit you stole from my family before I chop both your hands off?”
The man screams louder, like he’s being butchered alive, but Michael only laughs. A sadistic kind of laugh, like this is a sick game.
“Okay, then. I’ll just keep go—”
“Stop!” I yell out, jumping to my feet, weakness pounding at my knees.
Instantly, a gun is pointed to my face, but not Michael’s. The one belonging to the other man beside him, who looks younger, but much like he’s related. Their dark, almost black eyes are identical.
“Who the fuck are you?” his lookalike questions, brows tugging in confusion.
I will my feet to move, little by little, my hands raised in the air, my heartbeats exploding in my rib cage. “I…”
My throat goes dry, my chest flying up and down as I glance at the both of them, hoping not to die.
“The girl from the window.” Michael’s lips faintly curve. “Nice to finally meet you. I was starting to wonder when you’d decide to join us.”
I gasp, lowering my arms, eyes rounding.
He knew? Son of a…
“You know her?” the man who still directs his weapon at me remarks, turning to Michael with a tilt of his head.
But Michael…those mesmerizing eyes, they remain fixated to mine, gaze falling to my trembling lips before they crawl back up to my eyes.
“Sort of.” He chuckles dryly.
He knew. This whole damn time, he knew I was here. He fucking knew even when he came here earlier, didn’t he?
“You were messing with me when you came down here, weren’t you?” I stamp out with an irate exhale, glaring at his smug face.
My gaze narrows. Even with the fear skating up my arms, there’s anger there too. Did he think it was funny to scare me? Is this some sick game to him? To torture people?
He takes a single step forward. “I know everything that happens in my home.”
He slinks closer, and without a second thought, I match his step, a snarl now fastened to my features.
“So why didn’t you kill me?” I hiss, my chest rising and falling with fierce breaths.
His chuckle is cold and callous as he raises his gun and points it right to my heart. “I’m pretty tempted right now.”
“Do it, then.” My gaze fills with wrath, chin tilting higher, teeth gritted.
Whoever this man is, no matter how sweet he was to his daughter, there’s a monster at my feet. A cruel one.