Page 197 of Deliverance

The TV in the background grows quiet for a moment, all sounds diminishing to silence so heavy that my heart stops along with it.

If I get caught, I’ll be as good as dead. It’s just a matter of when at this point.

The razor slips again and drops into my skirt.

Rhys appears in the doorway, holding a brand new plate heaped with hot food. He walks over to the bed and sets the dinner next to me on the comforter while I tuck the razor underneath my skirt.

“Tell me what you think, okay?” He sits across from me, oblivious to the blood on my wrists. Although, in the grand scheme of things, it probably doesn’t stand out much. A spoon is clenched between his fingers.

Not a fork.

Smiling, I close my eyes for a brief second to erase the image of him from my mind. Even if the darkness is short-lived, it’s enough to reset.

Rhys sees what he wants to see in my expression—relief and gratitude. I see Zander in the passenger seat of my Lexus, his sky blue gaze caressing my face, his hair tousled by the ocean breeze, and his face hopeful.

Stupid me. I should have said yes. Not because a different answer wouldn’t have put me in the position I’m in right now, but because it’s what I wanted.

You don’t know a good thing when you have it. Only when you lose it.

And Zander’s the best thing that ever happened to me, the best person that’s entered my wretched, broken, and inconsequential life.

“Open up, babe,” Rhys’s voice yanks me out of my daze and when I snap my eyes open, he’s holding up a spoonful of potatoes to my mouth.

Pushing down the nausea, I tip my head forward and let him slip the spoon past my lips.

I’ve lost all sense of time and space.

The food in my stomach feels like hot coals and it’s threatening to lurch back up any second now that Rhys has finished feeding me, but I continue to give myself a pep-talk.

You need energy. You can throw it all up when you’re out of here.

That works.

The chicken stays put.

“That was great,” I praise Rhys’s culinary accomplishment. Truth is, I could hardly taste anything. My entire body is on high alert and the moment he walks out of the room, I grab the razor from my hiding spot in the folds of my skirt and resume working on the tie.

It starts to give way after a few minutes. The ruined plastic begins to stretch and I wrench my wrists apart and then twist them in different directions.

In the kitchen, the water is running.

Honestly, I’m surprised Rhys is doing all the cleaning and dishwashing, but I suppose I can’t be on household duties since I’m tied up.

Not for long, though.

My breaths start coming out as quick bursts. I yank my hands away from each other, ignoring the bite of the binds and putting as much pressure as my pain tolerance, which is high, allows.

Yank and twist. Yank and twist. Then twist the other way. Then use the blade to cut into the crease.

The water stops running.

No! I’m not done yet.

Panic floods me.

I grind the razor into the plastic with everything I’ve got. There’s a soft snap and the tie comes apart. Finally! I’m so stunned that my mind blanks for a fraction of a second, but rights itself pretty fast.

You need a weapon. You need something you can hit him with.

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