Page 12 of Possession

“You and Josephine will share a bed," he ignores the question, throwing a pointed look my way. “And I’ll sleep in the other one.”

“I can’t sleep with you in here.”

“Sleep or don’t sleep but shut your mouth. I’m tired of hearing it.”

I nod, trying to mask my fear, because sometimes Eddie looks at me as if he’s just biding his time until he can get me alone and hurt me. Naomi lays on top of our bed and curls herself into a quiet ball while I look for the remote control and find anything on television that will numb me to my present circumstances.

A text alert illuminates Eddie’s phone and he excuses himself to handle a problem at the front desk with the credit card he used to pay for the rooms.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes. Don’t answer the door for anyone but me or Mr. Fabre. You understand?”

I nod silently.

“Josephine?” He calls out to Naomi.

“Yeah,” she mutters.

“You heard me, right?”

“Yep.”

My heart pounds when Eddie walks out the door. This is what Christian meant. A chance to make a run for it.

I land on a channel showing an episode of some sort of reality show that I don’t recognize and tell Naomi, “I’m going to take a shower.”

The fact that I have no clean clothes to change into should have made Naomi raise an eyebrow, but she barely moves. In fact, all she does is grunt an inaudible response as I enter the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror above the vanity.

I look like shit.

God knows I really should take a shower.

If anyone was paying attention, they’d see that I’m clearly in distress. My eyes are sunken in, my hair is practically sticking on top of my head, and I feel like I have days worth of dirt on my skin.

But I don’t have time for that.

This is my moment to escape.

I’ve got to take it.

I wait until my nerves settle, lock the door, turn on the shower, and then quietly open the bathroom window. Luckily, it faces the side of the hotel and not the front where we’re parked. The opening is small, but I manage to squeeze my hips through, my breath catching as I land on the ground outside. I feel like Tom Cruise in aMission Impossiblemovie.

I don’t have a plan beyond getting out of the motel room, but I don't look back as I start running, my feet pounding against the pavement. I can hear shouts behind me, not really sure if it’s Eddie or Mr. Fabre’s voices, but I don't dare to glance back. I just run, fueled by desperation and the thought of freedom.

I'm a few blocks away when I hear the screech of tires. I duck into an alley, my heart in my throat. Footsteps echo behind me, getting closer. I'm cornered, with nowhere to run.

Suddenly, a hand grabs my arm, pulling me into the shadows. I'm about to scream bloody murder when a familiar voice hushes me. “Hey, it's me, Parker.”

I throw my arms around Parker’s neck and relief floods through me, followed by an onslaught of tears.

How did he find me?

What's going to happen now?

And where’s Hunter?

But before I can ask him anything, Parker's expression hardens. "We need to move. Now."

We dart through several narrow streets, Parker leading the way, me stumbling behind. I can barely keep up, my mind racing with questions. Finally, we reach a black sedan I recognize, parked in front of a small strip mall and Parker opens the passenger door for me.

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