Curled on top of the plush carpet, I plotted my revenge. I pushed aside everything I loved and filled my heart with hate. The ball, the gown, legacies, and Knights consumed me. He’d be back.
He always came back.* * *I was breakingfree.
Two days ago, I started to hear my son’s cries. The lucid part of my brain argued that it was a hallucination. The desperate part of me only cared that he was close.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I sent the chair flying. It bounced, anticlimactically, off the window and fell to the floor. The sound it made when it hit the window was loud. I picked it up again and ignoring the double vision and trembling muscles, sent it forward with a little more force. The window cracked, but it was the noise I cared about. Even if I broke the window, it was at least a thirty-foot drop to a stone bed.
I gripped the arms of the heavy chair, but my ears perked when I heard the sound of footsteps rushing closer. I waited, timing the footsteps. I listened to the lock turn. As soon as the door flew open, I hoisted the chair in the air, but before I could send it flying, I felt his harsh grip on my arm.
He tore the chair from my grip, which sent me spilling forward. The chair crashed to the ground, and then he growled. “What are you—”
I didn’t give him the chance to finish. The path to the door was clear. Jumping to my feet, I sprinted for the door. I expected his hands on me any second. I expected to be dragged back by my hair and threatened. When I made it through the door, I ranfaster.
I fell into the first door and tried the knob. I couldn’t leave without him even if it meant getting caught. When the knob twisted, I threw it open.
Empty.
There was no sign of Angel when I glanced behind me. Hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Where was he?
I tried another handle, which turned out to be Angel’s old bedroom and found it empty.
I knew from when I robbed the place there were only three rooms on this wing.
Maybe I had been hallucinating…
I fought a wave of nausea and rushed for the east wing.
Make a sound, baby boy.
“You’re making this fun for me.”
I stopped cold at the sound of his voice. I expected to see him standing behind me when I turned, but I was still alone. Taking a deep breath, I ran to the room I knew Angel kept Caylen. It was locked.
“Breaking someone already weak isn’t much of a challenge.” His voice was back to send chills down my spine. “You’re giving me a reason to do my best.”
This time, I noticed his voice seemed omnipresent and realized he must have been speaking through an intercom. “I got out, and I’m leaving with my son.You’re not exactly winning awards.” I threw my shoulder into the door, but it was weak. Suddenly, Caylen’s cry broke from the other side.
Angel’s chuckle was chilling, but I made myself ignore it. “You haven’t eaten in five days. You couldn’t even break that door down at full strength.”
He was watching me?
I looked around for a camera but found none. I threw my shoulder into the door again but had to grip the handle to keep from crumbling to the floor when my legs gave out. Caylen’s cries were louder now and my desperation to get to him grew.
“Return to your room, and I’ll forgive you.”
I chuckled and then blinked to clear another wave of double vision. “And if I don’t?” I tried to sound strong, but five days without food had taken a bigger toll on me than I had expected.
“I’ll punish you. Personally and painfully.” His voice was deeper. His mood was pitch black.
“As exciting as that sounds, I’ll have to decline.” I pushed myself up from the floor and took slow, shaky steps to the stairs. My body was fighting to give up, but my mind wouldn’t take the hint.
Downstairs, I searched the kitchen for something useful to pick the lock or pry the door open. I grabbed the biggest kitchen knife I could find and then stumbled my way down a short, dark hallway. I found a single door and quickly pushed it open before I lost my nerve. I blindly slid my hand along the side wall in search of a light switch. When my fingers moved over the panel, I hurriedly switched it on.
The room turned out to be a garage, and after a quick search in the corners, I found no boogeyman lurking. A black Suburban, black BMW, and sick looking red and black bike filled up three of the spaces, leaving an empty space near the furthest wall. On the far wall was a red, metal chest that stood as tall as I was. I stepped onto the cold concrete and ignored the chill and roughness on my bare feet. Searching through the treasure chest of tools, I found a tension wrench and pick. I peeked around every corner as I made my way back upstairs.