Page 29 of The Bonds We Break
Fortunately, fast orgasms are not going to make this room any warmer or my stomach less hungry.
The club celebration was yesterday. I didn’t expect to see King, but he hasn’t been back today either. And given the late hour, I’m guessing there is no way King is coming back tonight.
I envy the club’s sense of family. If I organized a party, I could only think of a handful of people I’d invite. Ryker and Briar for sure. Mitchell, whom I texted that I’d decided to go visit my brother and asked if he could water all my plants for me. Connie runs my yoga class. What can I say? I’m happier in my own company.
The firewood pile is rapidly dwindling, and the last candle is staring at me accusingly from its spot on the table.
Maybe the rest of New Jersey knew about the incoming snowstorm. I, on the other hand, had to rely on my gut telling me it was definitely closing in, thanks to a sky that went shades of purple before turning dark gray. I’m assuming the storm is also the reason the power has been out since lunchtime.
I’ve done everything I can to reduce the speed of the logs burning. I’ve moved the mattress from the bed into the living room, hoping the fire will warm the clean sheets. I’ve closed the door to the bathroom and bedroom so I’m not heating spaces I don’t need. I’ve fixed the damper for the slowest burn and stopped putting new logs on about two hours ago. That will leave me with four logs and some kindling to keep it going whenever I am at my absolute coldest.
I’ve also made a practical list of what will make me leave the cabin.
Mild hypothermia induces shivering. Shivering stops in moderate hypothermia. That’s one indicator to leave.
Otherwise, it’s food supplies. I’ve found some cans of soup, which I can heat on the fire. The meat is frozen outside the front door, as it was pointless leaving it in a fridge that isn’t working.
If it gets to the point where I feel I have no choice but to leave, I’ve decided I’ll take my chances and run at night, when it’s dark. Maybe I’ll get to a phone to call Ryker before King can get the person watching them to kill them. Maybe I won’t.
So I won’t take that risk until I am all out of options.
I can live with the discomfort.
There is a small gap at the bottom of the front door where a cold breeze is blowing through, so I tug the cushions off the sofa and pad the gap. I open the curtains a sliver and check that there are no lights on any buildings anywhere around me.
Then it dawns on me.
What if I use the camera to make a statement? Didn’t King say it had battery back up?
What if I don’t leave?
What if I just go speak into the camera and then step back inside? I’ll have to be quick. I can’t close the door behind me, as I don’t have a key to get back inside. And I really don’t want to lose the heat I’ve built up.
I’ll be fine tonight. It might get a little miserable, but it’s not life threatening.
In the morning, when it’s light, when he can witness me walk back inside, I’ll do it.
The house will be colder by then.
I can do it before I light the last few logs.
The idea and plan makes me sleep easy.
In the morning, I’m chilled. My arms have slipped from beneath the covers. But I’m thankfully not freezing. While the embers are pretty much burned out, there is heat in the solid cast iron fireplace. Not a lot, but enough to keep the air from freezing.
Tentatively, I climb from beneath the mound of blankets. The clock tells me it’s nine a.m. Once I’ve pulled on my shoes, I wrap a blanket over my shoulders and step outside. One of the cushions acts as a safeguard from the door closing properly. When I look up, I gasp. It’s a winter wonderland.
I’ve always loved the first snow of the season. And I know this won’t stick around. It’s too early in December, but it’s beautiful.
Glancing around the porch and roof line, I see one of the cameras.
“Hey, King,” I shout. “Or is it Vex? My brother told me Vex is the tech person who I’m guessing installed and monitors this. If it is you, Vex, my brother tells me you’re a tech wizard, and I really hope you can help me. Anyway, whoever is watching this—I’ve had no power for twenty-one hours. I’m down to four logs. And I’m almost out of food. I’m stepping back into the house, but I need someone to get here before I freeze to death and am no good to King for his nefarious plan.” I raise my hands. “Backing into the house now.”
I have no idea what good it will do, but one of the things I always tell my clients is that inaction is universally a worse state to be in than one of action. It might have been easier to sit inside all day and stress about the situation, but I already feel better for having shared it.
Maybe I’ll go out in another hour and remind them.
Once inside, I close the door quickly and pull the blankets around me more tightly. I could start the fire to warm some soup or water. But perhaps I should wait until I really need the heat. Pulling the curtains open, I notice condensation frozen to ice on the inside of the window. This is definitely a summer cottage, and not a very robust one at that. But it’s a pretty spot.
