Beyond him, a lush, carpeted hallway extends out of my view.
“You need more rest,” Robert says while reaching for the doorknob. “Once we’re home… Everything will be as it was. I promise.” He smooths his hand over my cheek.
Then he leaves.
And I break.
I’m too hollow for tears. All I can do is breathe raggedly, my face pressed against the floor. Faint cries still emanate from the other room, echoing mine and cementing the chilling reality.
I’ll never leave.
And even if Mischa comes after me, with Robert’s resources, he would never make it through the front door.
“Shhh,” the woman in the other room soothes. “Shhh. Please hush, my darling.”
“Ama,” the softer voice wails in response.
Who are they?Mafiyacaptives? New additions to his supposed sex trade?
Crawling to the wall, I rap my knuckles against it. “Ama?” I call tentatively. “Is that your name?”
Both figures fall silent.
“Please.” Biting my lip, I try again, knocking even louder. “Answer me, please. I won’t hurt you—”
“He’ll hear you,” the woman whispers frantically. “His spies are always listening.”
My fingers tremble, leaving streaks of sweat over the wallpaper. Despite everything, one fact strikes me more than any other. I’ve dealt with plenty of Robert’s favorite maids and whores—but she sounds like…me.
Her fear. The hitch in her voice. Those subtle clues prove to me that she isn’t some recent captive. No, she’s been under his thumb for much longer.
“We need to leave,” I risk whispering. “I can’t stay here. I won’t.”
I shut my eyes against a telltale burn, keeping any tears at bay.
“Do you know where we are?” I ask.
Silence.
Gritting my teeth in frustration, I turn from the wall and brace my back against it. “I can’t stay here,” I repeat, though more to myself than anyone else. “I’d rather die than stay here. I’ll die…”
There are a multitude of ways I could usher along that inevitable ending. The bathtub would be the easiest option. I’d only need to find something sharp. It’s Marnie’s method, but maybe I finally understand how she must have felt. This oppressive, suffocating need to run.
I can’t stay here.
“Hotel.”
“What?” I turn to the wall again, pressing my ear against it so tightly that it hurts. “What did you say?”
“We’re in a hotel,” the woman replies hoarsely. “I think so… But an old one. One he owns. It’s in the middle of nowhere. The windows are locked. There are guards in front of every door. There is no escape.”
No…I squeeze my eyes shut and dig my nails into my palms so viciously that I break the skin. No escape.
Is that so?Mischa would taunt were he here.You’re just taking the easy fucking way out. You want to stay with him. Admit it.
“Never,” I snarl out loud. I sound insane—but it’s all I have. Arguing with a phantom.
Helpless, I eye the ceiling and another grim plan forms: a makeshift rope with the bedsheets tied to a sturdy post. Hanging. Could I do it? In my morbid search, my eyes keep returning to a unique square-shaped cut-out closed off with metal slats.