Page 231 of On a Fault Line

My breath gets stolen from my lungs, with the thief being fear.

But then I don’t see it again.

My mind is just playing tricks on me. It was my own movement reflected back to me in the mirror. Leave it to me to be afraid of my own shadow.

I am safe.

It’s a lie, but I think it anyway.

Moving to the window, where I can at least see better, I hop up on the windowsill and dangle my feet. Then I think of the most calming Grace and Jace slow song and allow that to be the words in my head while I wait and pray that someone rescues me from this hellhole.

With winter’s end,

Spring blooms,

Cascading emotions,

Romance looms

Out of the darkness,

I can see the light,

Good things are coming,

Just hold on tight

My breathing returns to normal, and the tension that was once in my shoulders releases.

Someone will find me here.

I just have to wait.

Then I hear it. Screaming. Bloodcurdling bellows.

Gunshots sound, and I tug my knees up, wrapping my arms around them. Rocking back and forth, I try to block out everything happening around me.

But it’s the sound of footsteps I hear from outside the door that pulls me from my tranquil state, followed by the buzz of an alarm blaring throughout the building.

In the darkness, I hear the screeching of the legs of the furniture scraping against the ground inside the room and see the movement of the door opening.

Fuck.

The scratching sound returns and the once darkness becomes a sea of moving shadows.

Then the lights flick on, and…

I am face-to-face with the devil himself.

“Hello, Penelope,” Mark greets, pulling off his rain hat and tossing it on the bed that is now barricading the door.

My back goes rigid. My throat tightens.

I hop off the ledge and glance around the room for anything that I could possibly use as a weapon.

“What do you want from me?” I cry out.

“My life back,” he says nonchalantly. “And I’ll get it back.”

---