Convict Me (Broken Heroes 1)

Squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin, I look him dead in the eyes. “I will go and do whatever I want, with whomever I want.”

“I don’t have time for this,” he grumbles, like I’m inconveniencing him.

I’m angry, sad even, and the look on my face must give my emotions away because a second later, he leans into me.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go by yourself. It’s not happening.” The look in his eyes tells me he’s serious. The next thing I know, he’s lifting me up and throwing me over his shoulder caveman-style.

“What are you doing? Let me down!” I demand, pounding my fists on his back. He carries me down the hall with ease, ignoring my punches and demands. Flopping me down on the bed, I bounce twice before I’m able to get enough control over my own body to sit up.

“What are you doing, Hero?” I ask again, this time louder and slightly panicked, even though I know for certain he heard me the first time I asked.

He looks at me with apologetic eyes, and I almost believe him when he says, “I’m sorry.”

Hero doesn’t say another word to me. He just turns around and walks to the bedroom door. He gives me one more look and pulls it shut behind him, leaving me sitting on the bed confused and hurt.

What is going on? I can’t comprehend why I’m in here.

And then I hear it. The lock on the door clicking into place is like taking a knife to the heart.

He locked me in.

“Hero!” I call out to him, rushing from the bed, nearly tripping over the bed sheets. I slap my hands against the wooden door as tears sting my eyes.

“No, Elyse. I’m sorry. I really fucking am, but I can’t risk something happening to you and me not being there. I’d kill someone, even myself, if I let that happen, and I can’t do it. I just can’t. So please, fucking please, just stay in here until I get back.”

The anguish in his voice tells me he’s upset about doing this, but that’s not enough to me.

I blink away the tears in my eyes. This feels like betrayal of the worst kind. When I hear the front door slam off in the distance, I’m frozen in time. I cannot believe he did this to me!

I have to get out of here and kick his ass. Anger burns inside me. Weak and mindless is what my father always called women—me. I clench my fists and walk into the bathroom connected to the bedroom. I go to the small window above the toilet and eye it curiously, wondering if I could fit through it.

Then I turn and walk back into the bedroom, searching for something, anything, I could use to get me out of here. I stop in front of the door, eyeing it intently, as if it’s going to give me all the answers I need.

And then it does.

Pushing against the door, I notice one of the hinges is already loose and the other parts are just tightened up with regular screws. A light bulb goes off inside my head. If I could find something flat and small to use as a screwdriver, I could take them off and escape this room.

I search the room like a madwoman, looking through every drawer and on top of every cabinet. After a few minutes of searching, I end up looking through his nightstand. The first thing that catches my eye is a box of condoms.

My stomach drops. The box is open, and it looks like there might be some missing inside.

Bile rises into my throat at the thought of him with someone else.

Even though I knew I won’t be his first, it still hurts to see the evidence at hand. It awakens unpleasant feelings of jealousy in me, and I don’t like it. Not even a little bit.

Pushing those feelings down, I go through the rest of the drawer. A bottle of lotion, lighter, a cell phone charger. Ugh, none of those things will get me out of here. I’m close to ripping my hair out when I spot something shiny in the very back of the drawer. I grab the item and examine it.

Bingo!

It’s a folded-up pocket knife.

I take the knife and walk back to the door. Flipping it open, I use the sharp edge to move the screw around, turning it slowly until it falls to the floor in front of me. I repeat with the other screws until all the hinges are loose. With each loose screw, I do a fist bump.

Sliding my fingertips into the small spaces on each side, I grab the door and pull it out of the frame.

I’m so proud of myself, I can’t help but smile widely even though no one is here to see it.