Not trapped in a box just like Carlton’s victims had.
The irony wasn't lost on her. She had spent the last decade paying penance for what she believed to be her part in her husband’s crimes, and now it looked like she would meet the same fate.
Now she knew exactly how they had felt.
She was suffering every single thing they had endured, right down to the humiliation of being forced to lie in her own urine-soaked clothes. She had thrown up earlier too. When Chance was killing Henry. Just like it always did, the sight of blood made her vomit. She had wanted to scrunch her eyes closed and stop watching, but she had lost all control of her body and just lay there with her eyes glued to the macabre scene.
Summer thought she would lose her mind if she had to stay in here much longer.
She wanted out of this box now.
This second.
She couldn’t take it anymore.
Desperately, she tried to push with her feet and good arm against the lid of the box. She knew she couldn’t open it. She knew it was padlocked shut. She knew that even if she had been at full strength and not injured, hungry and so thirsty her mouth was sandpaper dry, she wouldn’t have stood a chance at forcing it open. She knew that the only thing she would achieve by flinging her body around like this was unimaginable pain in her broken arm.
She knew all of that, and yet still she thrashed and shoved and kicked.
Jostling her arm sent the anticipated bolts of shooting pain out to every inch of her body.
Summer screamed in agony and then sobbed.
She couldn’t do this.
She couldn’t.
She couldn’t.
She wanted to get out of this box, go home, and lie in her bed wrapped up in Luke’s arms. She wanted to kiss him, touch him, feel his hands on her body, and hear his voice tell her he cared about her.
If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine it.
His breath against her neck, his lips pressing gently against hers, his hands running softly up and down her spine, his arms wrapping around her drawing her tightly against his firm chest.
“Luke,” she whimpered.
She wanted to see him just one more time and thank him for helping her get her life back.
She wanted to tell him that she …
The door to the cabin was suddenly flung open.
Summer jumped. Chance was back. What was he going to do to her and Hope? Had he decided to kill them now?
Earlier, when Hope had gotten free, she had allowed herself to believe that she was actually going to survive this nightmare. Even when Chance had brought Hope back, it had seemed like she was getting through to him. That the Chance they had always known was still in there, trying hard to regain control. He’d been so close to letting them go. So close. But then his evil side had taken over again, and in that moment, Summer had finally accepted that she was going to die.
No one was coming to rescue her.
And now Chance was back, and she knew that he couldn’t last much longer before he killed them. He enjoyed killing too much.
Chance was dragging something behind him.
A body.
Had he already taken another victim? If he had was that good news or bad news for her and Hope? She didn’t want to think this way, but if Chance had another victim, maybe he would spare them a little longer in preference to killing this new person first. After all, he knew her and Hope, which might work in their favor.
He dragged the body to where he had killed Henry and then dropped it.