Page 26 of The Vacancy In Room 10

“I just want you to leave her alone,” I say, and the words sound confident, but I’m backing up and shakily shoving my phone into my pocket.

“Or?” is all he says, a terrifying coldness behind his eyes.

“Or I show this to the cops—get you kicked out of here or arrested. I’m watching you is all I’m saying, so be a man and don’t hit women. That’s all,” I say, feeling my courage returning with these words, because I’m right, and he’s the one who’s wrong here. I fold my arms in front of me to emphasize my point. “I backed up the video,” I add quickly, in case he thinks of trying to take my phone.

So really, what’s he gonna do? It’s broad daylight, and I have a security camera in the corner, pointed right at him, although he doesn’t know I switched it off to ensure nobody ever sees this. People come in and out of here all the time. He’s not gonna freak out or try to take my phone if he knows what’s good for him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, so calmly the hair on the back of my neck stands up and chills tap across my shoulders and down my back. “Who the fuck do you think you are exactly?”

“Someone who isn’t gonna let guys like you get away with that shit,” I respond, and then it happens.

He rushes me in a white-hot rage—with blind hatred in his eyes, so quickly I can’t even move or react—and slams me up against the wall so hard it knocks the wind out of me, and I gasp for breath, but I can’t get any air in because he’s squeezing my neck with both hands. I can feel a drop of blood slither from the back of my head onto my shoulder, and I see an explosion of stars behind my eyes.

I know everything is about to go black if I don’t inhale in a matter of seconds. My arms flail, and I claw and grab at anything on the desk next to me that’s within reach. I can’t see anything, so I just blindly feel and pray for something there that I can defend myself with—anything I can hit him with and escape his grasp.

“You thought you could blackmail me?” He laughs and I try to kick at him, but I don’t have enough oxygen. My body feels numb.

The room spins. I am going to lose consciousness. I clutch something from the desk next to me—I hook the handle with the ends of my fingertips, just barely. It’s a pair of scissors. I can’t see him, everything is a blur, so I just blindly grab them with the little strength I have left and stab at him to get him off me. I feel his grip loosen, and I fall to the floor. I still can’t see. Everything is swirls and stars, and I’m so lightheaded I can barely push myself to stand, to run, and then finally my breath starts to steady, and I look up to see him standing there with wide eyes and an open mouth.

I scurry backward across the floor to move away, and I stand and lean against the wall, still steadying my dizzy head with my hands, and then I see it—I realize why he’s stopped choking me and is standing impossibly still.

The scissors are plunged into the side of his neck, and blood is seeping out of the corners of his mouth. I think a sound like a scream escapes my lips, but I can’t be sure. The shock paralyzes me for a few moments as I grip the wall behind me and try to catch my breath.

I watch him pull the scissors from his neck and hold the wound, but the blood spills over the top of his hand, and then he stiffens. His eyes bulge, and his gaze is fixed straight ahead. His mouth falls open, and he collapses to the polished concrete floor with a crack so loud, bones must have snapped as he smacked the surface. He goes completely limp. Dark blood slowly pools around his head, and his body twitches before it goes still again.

I cup both my hands over my mouth so I don’t scream, but the sobs can’t be suppressed. What have I done? Fuck! Fuck, fuck. What have I done?

I rush to him and stand over his body, trying not to hyperventilate. I rest my hands on my knees and drop my head. Holy shit. The blood travels in tiny rivers across the concrete floor and pools against the braided area rug under the coffee table, creating a horrifying blaze of red against the white wool. Oh, God. What did I do?

Just then, I hear a tap-tap at the office door, and a voice calls. “Cass? You there?”

Shit. It’s Callum. I told him to come and get his package. I snap up to standing and look to the door, thinking I can run and lock it before he comes in. I need time. I need... But before I can even take one step toward it, the doorknob turns, and Callum pokes his head in.

“Hello? You told me I had a...” He steps inside and sees me hunched over a bleeding body, and he freezes. I hear a sharp intake of breath as he holds his hand to his heart and looks to me, then to Eddie lying lifeless beneath me, then back to me, and we lock eyes.

“I didn’t mean to!” I cry. I rush past him to the door and slam it shut behind Callum, locking it and standing in front of it with tears streaming down my face. “It was an accident. Oh, God. What have I done?”

11

ANNA

In the blackness, I sit near the entrance door where a slit of daylight cuts through the dark, and after a few hours of slamming my fist against it and calling for help, exhaustion takes over, and I give up. All I can do now is cry quietly and pray that someone finds me.

The rain has stopped now, and it’s quiet. The earthy damp smell in this dungeon of a room makes me want to wretch, and my hatred for this place boils inside of me. My phone rings from inside Henry’s unit and I can’t see the screen, but the light illuminates the darkness. I quickly look around to see if there is anything in sight I can use to climb up to the egress window or tools I can break the handle off the door with, but the ringing stops, and it’s dark again.

A few moments later I hear footsteps coming down the sidewalk. This storage unit is tucked away behind the main buildings, so nobody comes back here, it seems, unless they are actually coming to the storage area. I feel the wall and rise to my feet. I beat on the door again. “Hello! Is someone there!?”

And the door swings open. A figure is backlit by blinding sunlight, and for a moment, I wonder if it’s someone who’s come to hurt me. If I’ve actually been kidnapped or taken captive or something. It’s this thought that makes me cower and back up instead of throwing my arms around the person and thanking them.

“Anna?” the man says. It’s Barry. The annoying guy from 206. He sounds more surprised than someone who’s come to kill me would, I think, but I can’t be certain yet.

“Did you...lock me in here?” I ask shakily. Then he steps in, and I can see him clearly without the sun in my eyes.

“Oh, my God. You were locked in here? No, God. I sold a sword.”

“What?” I ask, thinking for a moment he’s messing with me—trying to confuse me, because he doesn’t make sense.

“I keep my collection in my storage unit. Sometimes I sell them on eBay. God, I’m so sorry. How in the world did you get stuck down here?”

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