Chapter 3 - The Shadow in the Hallway
I pressed my back against the dark corner of the closet, holding my breath until my lungs burned. The canvas bag was clutched tightly against my chest. Through the slats of the closet door, I watched the bedroom door creak open.
A figure stepped into the room. It was Daniel.
He didn't turn on the light. He stood in the center of the room, looking at the empty bed.
"Sarah?" he called out softly, his voice dripping with a sickening, mock tenderness. "Sweetheart? Are you in the bathroom?"
I pressed myself further into the clothes, praying he wouldn't open the closet. If he found me here, with my passport and the deeds in my hand, the game was over. He would drug me by force, and by tomorrow afternoon, I would be locked away in Bellevue Ridge, never to be heard from again.
"Sarah?" he called again, stepping closer to the bathroom. He pushed the bathroom door open. The light flickered on, casting a long, sharp shadow across the bedroom floor.
Finding it empty, he muttered something under his breath. He turned around, his eyes sweeping the dark bedroom. He began to walk slowly toward the closet.
This is it, I thought. I have to fight. I gripped the heavy silver flashlight sitting on the closet shelf, preparing to strike him the moment he opened the door.
Just as his hand touched the brass doorknob of the closet, a loud crash echoed from downstairs. It sounded like a glass vase shattering on the hardwood floor.
Daniel paused. "Rachel?" he called out, his voice sharp with irritation. He turned away from the closet and hurried out of the room, his footsteps fading down the stairs.
I let out a shuddering breath, my legs trembling so violently I could barely stand. I knew I had only minutes. I grabbed my canvas bag, slipped out of the closet, and crept to the bedroom door.
Looking down the stairs, I saw the front door was slightly ajar. The wind was howling outside, blowing the curtains in the living room. Rachel was standing near the entrance, holding a broom, looking panicked.
"The wind blew the door open and knocked over the ceramic pot," she whispered as Daniel reached the bottom of the stairs. "You scared me to death! I thought she’d escaped."
"She’s not in her bed," Daniel said, his voice tight. "I went up to check on her, and she wasn't there."
"What? Search the house, quickly!" Rachel hissed.
I knew I couldn't go down the stairs. My only escape was the second-story balcony connected to the guest bedroom. It led to a wooden trellis covered in thick ivy that ran down to the garden. It was risky, dangerous, and would be incredibly painful to climb down in the dark, but it was my only choice.
I slipped into the guest room, unlocked the glass double doors, and stepped out into the freezing night air. The wind whipped my hair across my face, stinging my eyes. I looked down. The ground seemed miles away in the darkness.
I threw my canvas bag over my shoulder, securing it tightly, and climbed over the wooden railing. My hands gripped the cold, wet wooden slats of the trellis. I began to climb down, step by agonizing step.
Suddenly, a wooden rung snapped beneath my foot with a loud CRACK.
I gasped, my hands slipping. I fell backward, crashing through the brittle ivy branches, and landed hard on the muddy lawn below. Pain shot through my ankle, white-hot and blinding. I lay there for a second, gasping for air, clutching my leg.
"Did you hear that?" Daniel’s voice drifted from the open window above. "It came from the garden!"
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"Go check it!" Rachel yelled.
I forced myself to stand, ignoring the excruciating pain in my ankle. I hobbled into the shadow of the thick hedge just as the floodlights on the back patio flickered on, illuminating the lawn where I had fallen only seconds before.
