Page 32 of Tabitha

I give a vicious smile, pointing my knife at the door in victory. Everyone bows to my knives eventually. At least the wardrobe is smart enough to give up to a superior force.

Keeping my knife in hand, I open the door.

Only to be confronted with a dark hallway.

I expected a cubby hole or a small closet, not a secret passageway.

Thoroughly intrigued, I grab my phone and switch on the flashlight.

A light smattering of dust covers the floor, leaving behind a single set of footprints, as if my grandfather is leading me on an adventure. I stoop, then step into the wardrobe, almost expecting to get stabbed in the back any second. I wouldn’t put it past the old fart to set a trap or two.

Good thing I’m paying attention, though, because the floor disappears just a foot later, revealing steep, unforgiving wooden steps. I hesitate, then glance back. Light from the room barely penetrates the gloom, almost like a warning.

Thank goodness I’m not afraid of the dark.

I’m more likely to kill the boogeyman than run from one.

I turn and head down the stairs, curiosity urging me to follow wherever the passageway leads.

I wanted an escape…what better way than figuring out what my grandfather was hiding?

I count the stairs as I descend into darkness, feeling along the walls to see if there are any other hidden doorways along the way.

None.

When I reach the bottom, I take a step into the small three-by-three space. The only thing inside the room is another door, along with a fingerprint scanner on the wall next to it.

Helpful.

I scowl at the thing.

I take a step forward, when something brushes lightly against my cheek and I freak the fuck out. I duck and swing my knife, hoping to skewer the fucker who thinks to mess with me.

Memories of being forced into another tight space surface, and I’m dragged into the past. I’m wiggling under the tiny cabin where I was born, ordered to pull out a dead animal stinking up the crawl space from one of the many traps my father had set up around the area. I’m stuck, unable to do anything but squirm as spiders, rats, and bugs slither over me and bite every inch of me like I’m their next meal. No matter what my brain tells me, I can’t get over the impression that something is desperately trying to claw its way through the dirt to get to me.

My father either doesn’t hear my screams of terror or he just doesn’t care. With my ribs and back still aching from the last beating, I know better than to leave without completing the job. So I do the same thing I did back then—I grit my teeth and push forward.

I slowly force myself to stand and snatch up the phone that slipped from my grip. Being in the fucking basement must have triggered me. Even though I’m surrounded by drywall and cement floors, my brain can still smell dirt.

I search for what set me off, cringing when I see a string dangling from a bare lightbulb.

Instead of being reassured, I fell like an idiot. Because despite knowing the cause, my heartbeat still hasn’t gone back to normal. I pull the string harder than necessary, cursing when a searing light blinds me for a second. Seeing the small space in the light doesn’t ease my nerves any.

All I want to do is run.

“Tabitha?”

I whirl and almost end up castrating Pierce.

My eyes widen when he lurches backwards and nearly falls on his ass before catching himself. We both stare at each other for a second, then I guiltily whip the knife behind my back and blink up at him innocently. “Oh, hey, what are you doing here?”

He slowly raises his eyebrows, then looks down at his shirt and sticks his finger through a hole near the bottom. I swallow hard, sagging slightly when I realize I actually feel bad. I scowl, then shake my head at the foolishness.

Am I getting complacent?

Losing my edge?

Preposterous!

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