Fresh from the shower, Sal towels herself dry and slips on an oversized T-shirt and a pair of underwear. Stifling a yawn, she curls up on top of the already-made bed, wishing Luke were beside her. She glances at the clock. It’s been five hours since he left. In those hours, she’s fielded two calls from her sister, watched three reruns of Grey’s Anatomy and received a text from Luke telling her practice was perfect, they’re on their way home.
As Sal lies on the bed, she turns her gaze toward the open window. Late afternoon has the room bathed in a honeyed glow. She stretches in the sunlight, lazy, like a cat basking in the sun.
A moment later, Sal’s eyes begin to droop. She drifts off and memory licks, like the flicker of a flame.
An image of Seth, his arm held out, stretching, reaching for—
An image of Luke’s stricken face, of him on his knees by her bedside, swearing he loved her. Swearing—
The memory shifts.
An image of a redheaded woman. Sal frowns. The woman from the party. Alabama Forester. Talking about Luke. Saying sorry, telling Sal—
Somewhere, in the distance, a door opens and closes.
But not in her memory. In her reality.
Climbing out from half-consciousness, Sal opens her eye to find the bedroom dim and gray. She must have dozed off. Gone is the high in the sky sunshine; it’s moved across the horizon to dip low below the clouds. Now, there are only shadows.
Sal sits up and the world sways around her. Her gaze settles on a far corner of the room. Rubbing her eyes, she tries to focus, to shake herself from drowsy sleep. As she gets her bearings, unease steals over her. Goose bumps chase their way up her arms.
The shadow moves.
Sal’s eyes widen.
The shadow is breathing. Running.
Faster. A man.
Roy.
Sal opens her mouth to scream, but he’s on top of her, smothering her mouth with a doughy hand. Roughly, she’s shoved back against the pillows.
It’s the worst kind of déjà vu. Sal’s eyes fill with tears. Images of the cruel confines of the shack, of Roy tossing her against the wall, of his hands on her throat assail her every thought.
“Jenny, oh, my precious Jenny,” Roy whispers in her ear. So close his hot breath sears her face. “I finally found you.”
Sal struggles on the bed, letting out a desperate, muffled cry. Her brain screams at her to do something, even as her body bucks like a wild bronco to be free.
But Roy’s big. Strong. And angry.
“You shouldn’t have left me, Jenny. You were the best one. My only one. I have to bring you back. I have to take you home.”
“Noooo,” Sal gurgles.
Her wild eyes take in the room. She sees the locked door, the open window, and with growing panic she realizes Roy means to take her with him, or kill her. She doesn’t know which is worse.
She has to be strong. She has to be smart and save herself.
The hand smothering her mouth moves to her throat.
And clamps down. Squeezes. “Did you miss me? Tell me you missed me, Jenny.”
She claws helplessly at his hand. “Please ...” Her throat’s on fire. Black lights pulse in her vision. Still, Sal fights to stay conscious, fights for a plan.
“Can’t ... breathe ... please, Roy ...”
Fluttering her eyelids, Sal feigns unconsciousness. Her body goes slack and her head hangs limply off the pillows.