I sat straight up in bed and gasped. "Sophia! Allie!"

Sophia and Allie. Alexandria and Sarah too. The B.F.O. Was I going to tell the police everything? I could hardly reconcile reporting the men, but uncovering the B.F.O.? Saving the victims I had met. And possibly so many others. Could I be brave enough? Or dumb enough? The pit in my stomach told me the truth—I'd be risking my life if I told. But they deserved it.

It was 11:42, and James should be asleep soon, if not already. I blocked the B.F.O. out of my mind and popped out of bed with a mixture of excitement, anxiety, and guilt. A terrible combination. I doubted my ability to pull this off. If I didn't succeed, I dreaded the consequences, for both my father and me.

My dad. Dead. I ran to the toilet just in time before I hurled. Surprisingly it brought me some relief to somehow purge any doubt I had. Leaving was the right decision.

I rummaged through the kitchen to find some food to take with me. It might be a long night or even into the next day before I found another person who could help me. So, I took some crackers, cheese sticks, and bread and put them into a plastic grocery bag.

I then tried to figure out what to wear. Being indoors twenty-four-seven really disconnected me from the reality of life outside of these walls. But I knew we were in Kansas, not Southern California, and it was going to be bloody cold. I had better be prepared for the worst.

I put on my warmest clothes—two pairs of jeans, two pairs of socks, and dressy boots my abductor bought me to wear with my jeans. They weren't winter boots, but they would have to do.

By the time I was done with the preparations and had mustered up the courage, it was past one in the morning. I was shaking with adrenaline. Looking at the pinhole width, I decided to try the tweezers first. I was ecstatic when the first pin pushed up with little effort. I couldn't believe it, and my whole body tingled with excitement. When I pulled the pin out, I clasped my hands over my mouth, suppressing a squeal. The second and third pins came out almost as easily.

I stared at the door in wonderment, as if I had accomplished something miraculous. Or, maybe I thought the door was going to fall off on its own. But, of course, it didn't.

I wished I had paid more attention to my dad when he did household repairs. Then maybe I would know what to expect next. I slowly pulled the hinge off of the frame while my left foot pushed off the wall, and the door came right off with a small thud, smashing my hand.

Shit, I thought. Please, please, don't wake James up! Thank God the floor was carpeted.

I sat down on the ground for five minutes listening for any rustling downstairs. I heard nothing but my heart thumping out of my chest. On with the plan. I slowly pulled the door back perpendicular to the wall, which was a lot harder than I expected. But finally the deadbolt slipped out from the wall. It was amazing.

I did it. I actually did it. It was working, just like Flowers in the Attic. Now I had to make sure not to be caught like the kids in the book did.

I turned off the one light I had on inside the apartment and let my eyes adjust to the darkness before I went any farther.

Once I inched through the doorway, I tilted the door back to its position as best as I could to bluff James. If I was lucky, it would fool him for a bit—until he came upstairs.

I inched one step at a time on my butt. My ears were ringing, and my heart was thumping through my chest. I couldn't concentrate on outside noises. The door at the bottom of the stairs was swung completely open.

The room was dark but dimly lit by a night-light plugged in by the kitchen. I crawled around the couch and coffee table. Part of me wanted to look around to peak into James's life, but I had no time to investigate. I could have a long night trekking in the snow, so I didn't want to waste any time.

I reached the door and slowly unlocked the deadbolt. I placed one hand on the doorknob and the other between the door and wall to stop it from making a sound if it stuck. I took a deep breath, turned the doorknob, and pulled. My future was awaiting me on the other side. I looked over my shoulder as I opened the door. I stepped onto the threshold of my freedom.

But an alarm blared, spiraling me backward. I fell onto my back and scrambled to breathe. Precious seconds ticked by. Could I outrun James?

Hurry, hurry! The bastard will be coming any minute.

I looked around and saw the entry closet. Hide! Leave the front door ajar. Make James think I ran. Then when he ran one way, I could try to escape going the other way. It was a good plan, considering the five seconds I had to decide.

I left the front door open a foot, hopped into the closet, and closed the door. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I was sure James would hear it. There was a bunch of muffled yelling, moving closer.

Breathe slowly. Calm down. Slow down your heartbeat.

"Holy shit!" James yelled. "She is so going to regret this."

Then silence. He must've been outside. I waited for what wasn't more than a minute. Then I heard him run back into the house. The front door slammed shut.

Silence. No footsteps.

"Oh, Corrine," James taunted. "There's no tracks in the snow. So I know you're in here somewhere. It's just a matter of time before I find you. If you come out now, your punishment will be minimal compared to if I find you myself."

Shit, the snow. I hadn't thought of that. I was doomed either way. I tried to keep the tears at bay.

I didn't come out. The offer was tempting, but I was sure he was lying anyway. And maybe there was a chance he wouldn't find me.

"Have it your way," James yelled.

The footsteps faded and then cupboards opened and slammed shut. It was like waiting for the firing brigade to arrive. More footsteps. Closet door opened. Ruffling of jackets. Door closed.

Relief!

But then James opened the door again. He pushed the jackets all the way to one side, then the other, clearly unveiling the mystery.

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here." He leaned against the doorframe. His eyes fixated on me.

"James, I'm sorry. Honest. It won't happen again. I swear." I barely got the words out between my cries. I was dead.

"I bet you'd say that." He crossed his arms in a dominant stance.

"OK, come on, climb out," James ordered, waving me to exit.

I was crying hysterically, apologizing over and over again, but nothing I said was going to change my destiny. I had signed my own death certificate.

"I said, get up!" James yelled.

I pulled myself up using the walls and slowly stepped out of the closet. James was now rubbing his forehead and looked deeply hurt and frustrated. I felt such a pang of guilt.

When I walked out of the closet, he grabbed the back of my hair. My scalp felt like it was being ripped off my skull.

"Just when I was trusting you, Corrine, you go and fuck everything up!" James yelled at me.

He was pulling me through the family room and back upstairs, all by the roots of my hair. I begged for him to stop.

"Please don't kill me!"

"You'll be wishing I had by the time I'm done with you."

When we got to the top and the door was still off its hinges, James kicked the door down. It crashed against the kitchen wall. He threw me inside, and I stumbled, almost falling over the couch.

"Why? Why, Corrine?" James asked. "I've been nothing but good to you. Things have been going so well."

He sounded deeply hurt.

I ran up to him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, James. I made a mistake. I should've never tried—"

He pushed me in the chest, and I stumbled toward the dining room table.

"Was it because I'm not good enough for you?" He pushed me again, his pained expression turning to anger. "Did I not treat you well enough?" He pushed me once more, and I bumped into the table.

"It wasn't you. Please, you have to believe me. It's because I miss my dad so much! I had a bad dream. And I know he's sick. " I knew that sounded ridiculous the minute I said it.

He backhanded me with such power, I stumbled to the ground. The pain shot through my skull. And my ear was ringing.

He looked down at me with disgust and walked over to the door to put it back on its frame.

"James—James. Please, listen to me," my voice trailed off in a whisper he couldn't hear from across the room.

After fixing the door, James went into the kitchen and unlocked one of the cupboards. I'd often wondered what was inside. Now I would give anything not to find out.

"Please, James, let me explain. I didn't mean it. I didn't want to hurt you. I just wanted to see my dad. Please, listen to me!"

James came around the corner of the kitchen holding a horsewhip. "Let the fun begin," he said, as he slowly walked toward me.

I couldn't remember all that happened in the next half hour, but it was the worst pain I had ever felt, in nearly every part of my body. It reminded me of Stephen King's book, Misery, but I only wished my reality was fiction.



Corrine failed to escape. So, what's next for her? Will James ever forgive her? Please feel free to vote and follow me. Happy reading!