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That’s why he waited an hour before coming back. Plenty of time, he must have thought, for me to have gone back to sleep.

I stand in front of the door until my lower back hurts and my legs hurt too from standing so long.

Then, when the sun has risen in the sky and I hear people moving around in the hallway, I risk opening the door a crack to make sure no one is outside my room.

No one is.

But there are splatters of water on the floor, though the water bottle I flung into his face is gone. He must have taken it so no one would wonder what it was doing out there.

I close the door again and hurry toward the bathroom when my bladder reminds me it’s been far too long since I’ve emptied it.

After last night and the fear of the man coming back, I don’t dare risk having a shower. I brush my teeth with the bathroom door open and my eyes locked on the handle in case it starts to turn again.

I wash my hands and return to the bed, sitting closer to the door in case I need to get to it and hold it shut again.

No one comes to check on me.

Not Franklin.

Not a single person knocks on my door.

I hear them walking past, and I tense at each footstep, dreading the moment they might slow, or, worse, stop.

The only thing I have to eat is the apple and jerky, and after sniffing both twice to make sure he didn’t drug them or something, I slowly eat a meal I stretch out to cover breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

And at no point during the long day, short of blinking, do I take my eyes from the door.

When my head gets heavy, I lay down, telling myself not to dare risk sleeping. But I need to get as much rest as I can during the day while there are still people around, because if anyone is going to creep into my room, it’ll happen at night.

A door creaks and my eyes fly open.

I glance at the window, taking in the darkness outside, and can’t believe I actually fell asleep.

Another creak sounds and I panic as I scramble to get up.

I don’t have anything to fling at the man if he came back. Everything else in the room is furniture, too heavy to move.

Then my eyes snag on the lamp on the bedside table.

Bending to unplug it hurts my belly, but I grasp it, tiptoe to the slowly opening door, and just as it swings open, I launch the lamp at…

“Mack!”

He catches the lamp before it can smack him in the face, eyes the lamp wryly, then me. The corners of his warm, brown eyes crease in a smile. “Hi, love. Uh, is there something I should know?”

I burst into tears.

He drops the lamp and crosses the room, slamming the door shut behind him before he gathers me into his arms.

Within seconds, he’s perched on the side of the bed with me in his lap.

I tuck my face against his throat, wind my arms around him and hold on tight in case this is a dream I’ll wake up from if I let him go.

“You’re okay, Aerin. Everything is okay,” he reassures me as he strokes a hand up and down my back.

It’s honestly embarrassing how long I cry for. Mack just holds me, and waits until I’m all cried out.

Then I hear the sound of footsteps moving toward my room. I peel my face from his throat and stare at the door.

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