Page 66 of Pretty Lies & Ugly Truths

Though I still stand by my decision to leave, if I had known that might have been the last time I would see him, I would have made sure he knew I forgave him. That even if I don’t agree with what he did, I understand why he did it.

I would have made sure he knew the depths of my feelings, that he knew that I lo—that I care for him deeply.

Now, the thought of never getting that chance, of not being able to absolve him of that guilt—something I know he holds so closely to his chest—threatens to destroy me.

I cannot let that happen.

I need to get my shit together.

I refuse to sit by and have the one person who has ever made me feel worthy of being loved thinking that I’m angry with him, or worse—that I hate him.

I allow myself a few more minutes to wallow in self-pity before I pull myself together.

I am getting out of here tonight. I just need to figure out how.

By the timethe sun sinks behind the trees, I have a very loose plan in place. It’s crazy and a little reckless, but it’s all I got.

Now, I just need the opportunity to enact it.

Standing with my back pressed against the wall, I lie in wait. My heart pounds inside my chest when I hear footsteps in the hall outside my door. My sweaty palms are making it difficult to hold onto the object in my hands, and I quickly wipe them on the front of my jeans.

At the click of the lock, I shrink further back against the wall, hoping to remain hidden behind the door. I hold my breath, hating myself for what I’m about to do but knowing it can’t be helped.

The girl enters the room—dinner tray in her hands—before nudging the door closed behind her with her foot. She hesitates when she notices my plate from lunch remains on the desk, but the wooden tray it sits on is missing.

On bare feet, I tiptoe silently as I sneak up behind her.She turns her head to look around the room, eyes widening as she notices the heavy tray clutched in my hands.

Before she has time to blink, I bring the tray down hard, bashing her across the side of the head. I wince at the loud crash she makes as her body and my dinner fall to the floor, grateful for the plush rug that helps dampen to the noise.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, my fingertips reaching out to check for a pulse, praying I didn’t kill the poor girl. I release a heavy breath when I feel a steady thrum pulsing beneath her skin. Reaching down, I take her key before stepping over her unconscious body.

I move quickly, not sure if there are cameras set up inside the house. If there are, then I know I only have a few minutes before someone will be coming for me.

Snatching the small knife from beneath my pillow, I sprint to the door, breathing a sigh of relief when the door opens easily. I peek out to make sure the coast is clear before stepping into the empty hallway, and closing the door, locking it behind me.

As I sneak down the hall, uneasiness starts to eat away at some of my confidence. I have no idea what I’m doing or where I’m even going to go if this plan works. This is probably the dumbest idea I’ve ever had, and it will be a miracle if I make it out of here in one piece, but despite knowing that, I still have to try.

I continue my path, trying to recall as much as I can about the layout of the house, and I’m almost positive I’m moving in the direction of the main staircase.

I pause when I hear male voices closing in from up ahead. Without checking first, I duck into the nearest room, saying a small prayer to whoever is listening when I find it unoccupied. Holding my breath, I listen through the crack in the door, sagging in relief when they pass by, unaware of my presence.

I remain hidden until their voices fade, and I can no longer hear them before I stick my head out to see them disappearing around the corner. I linger a minute more to make sure no one else is following before I keep going.

The second time I’m forced to hide, I am mentally berating myself for my foolishness. This is the stupidest thing I have ever done, and it’s most likely going to get me killed.

I mean, seriously, what the hell was I thinking? That I was just going to walk right out the front door without anybody noticing? A place like this is sure to have cameras and guards stationed everywhere.

I am about to turn around and give up when the floor widens, opening up to the landing at the top of the stairs, the front door just beyond it. Surprisingly, itisunguarded, and there is no one around.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I recognize this as odd, but I’m too excited about the possibility of my freedom to really care.

I make a mad dash across the floor, scrambling to get out of here before someone finds me, but just as my foot touches the top step, gunshots sound from outside. I freeze, my body paralyzed by fear.

What do I do now? Do I run towards the potentialdanger that awaits me outside? Or remain with the one Iknowis inside this house?

Before I can make up my mind, however, the door flies open, a loud bang echoing through the empty foyer. My clammy palm clutches at the railing, a scream trapped in my throat. There, in the doorway, stands a large man dressed head to toe in black, face covered by a hood.

My heart thrums as I prepare to run, to flee back to the safety of my room.

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