Page 88 of Ruthless Lullaby

With growing apprehension, I hurry to the tiny window, desperate for some kind of help. I pound on the glass with my fist, hoping to catch someone's attention outside. It is a silly idea at this time of the night but it's not like I have too many other choices. As I inspect the window more closely, I realize it's purely decorative. There's no mechanism to open it. Feeling discouraged, I go back to the door and try turning the knob again, but it remains stubbornly locked.

I lean against the door and give the knob a final, forceful twist. Nothing.

No!

I slump back onto the toilet, cradling my head in my hands. I inhale deeply, trying to regain composure, but my heart races, and my hands tremble uncontrollably.

This is a disaster. Just like my whole life.

Time just stretches endlessly as I sit there motionless, trying to figure out my next move. What the hell do I do now?

Having no other option, I spend the rest of the night perched on the toilet. Sleep is out of the question. My mind continues to race, replaying the horrors I've witnessed over and over again. Countless scenarios of what would happen if Maron discovers I'm missing flash through my mind. The cold, hard porcelain under my butt becomes my unwelcome companion as hours crawl by at an agonizing pace.

Every creak and groan of the old house makes me jump, my heart leaping into my throat. Is it Maron, coming to find me? Or worse, has he sent one of his henchmen to "take care of the problem"? The darkness and the uncertainty feel oppressive, closing in around me like a shroud.

As the first weak rays of dawn begin to filter through the tiny frame, I feel a glimmer of hope. Surely someone will come to clean or use this bathroom soon, right? I stand on shaky legs, my muscles protesting after hours of inactivity as I peer out the window.

The world outside seems surreal in its normalcy. Dew glistens on manicured lawns, birds chirp their morning songs, completely oblivious to the nightmare unfolding within these walls. I press my face against the glass, desperate for any sign of a potential savior.

As I gaze outside looking for anyone who might be able to help, I notice the gardener trimming the lawn.

At last!

A human being!

It is a man in his fiftieswith a full, bushy mustache, and skin weathered by the sun. Clad in a green polo shirt and khaki shorts, his muscular arms guide the lawnmower back and forth across the grass. His movements are precise and systematic. I can hear the hum of the motor through the glass. Which means he should also be able to hear me if I scream loud enough.

"Hey!" I yell, pounding on the window to gain his attention, but the deafening sound of the lawnmower drowns out my cries. The man appears unaware of my presence, focused solely on his task. I keep yelling and knocking on the windowas loud as I can, but to no avail. The man gradually moves to another area and soon, he vanishes from sight.

This is it. The end of the line for me. I'm going to rot here, trapped in this invisible cell, reeking of urine. What an absurd way to go. Absurd, just like my entire life.

My serf-deprecating thoughts are interrupted by the distant sound of a vehicle, so I glance out the window once more.

There's the guy again!

This time, he's perched atop a polished ride-on lawnmower, its thunderous engine overpowering all other sounds. The noise reverberates through the air with each pass across the lawn, causing birds to flee from the trees in protest. When he finally brings the vehicle to a momentary halt, I strike the window with my fist as forcefully as I can. He looks up. I continue to jump and wave my hands frantically.

"Help!" I yell, hoping he can finally hear me. But my heart sinks as I watch him disappear once more. I attempt to call out for help again, but my voice emerges as a stifled cry. Unable to contain my emotions any longer, I crumple to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. I can’t believe this. How on earth did I get myself into this mess? What is it about me that attracts these bizarre life scenarios? Am I a part of some twisted cosmic joke?

Just when I think things couldn't possibly get any worse, I hear a scratching sound from across the door. Someone with a key must be outside. The scratching continues and my eyes light up as the door swings open, revealing the gardener who had been working on the grounds.

"Oh my God, thank you!" I croak out through tears of relief. "I accidentally locked myself inside."

The man doesn’t say a word but gestures for me to follow him. So, I push myself up, and I gratefully do so. We exit the bathroom and he starts leading me towards a different staircase than the one I used before.

"Please," I plead as we move through the maze-like corridors. "I need to get out of here. Can you show me the exit?"

The man glances at me and points towards the gate without uttering a word. Then he gestures to me to follow him. When we get to the gate, he takes a huge keychain out of his pocket and opens the massive metal door with a creak. He then turns to me and speaks only three words: "Go. Dangerous here."

Yeah, right.

You can say that again.

"Please," I beg him, my voice still trembling. "Please do not to tell anyone about this."

He gives me a slight nod, then urges me to leave. Once I’m outside, he closes the gate and walks back to resume his duties.

Holy shit!

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