Page 113 of One More Chance

My mouth goes dry, my legs weak. My chest is tight and my heart rate picks up, loud enough to drown out the noise of the rain hitting the window. I shake my head, desperate and pleading.

God, not that. Please, no.

Tears overflow and the sound of screams reach my ears.

My screams.

A loud slap. My cheek burns. My ear rings. And my head feels slightly woozy. It’s enough to cut off my screams.

“I’m not going to rape you.” His tone bites as if the very idea of violating me offends him.

Right, but you will kill me. I have no doubt about that.

“On the bed!” he snaps.

I crawl onto the squeaky bed, praying he has nothing to tie me to the frame with. Praying he’ll leave me alone in the room, giving me my only chance to escape.

He looms over me, his face contorted into pure anger, and I shudder. “Stay here.”

He leaves the room. Relief ebbs and flows in me, but the emotion is only temporary.

Careful not to set off the bed’s squeaky springs, I slowly slide to the side opposite the door and climb off the mattress.

The soft thud of items hitting the wooden floor comes from the living room, the storm outside almost masking the noise.

What the hell’s he looking for?

Since I don’t want to stick around to find out, I walk to the window, conscious the floor squeaks in places. I don’t know if the man has hawklike senses. And I’m not interested in finding out if he does.

I glance over my shoulder for a heartbeat, making sure he isn’t about to burst into the room, then turn back to my only hope of escape.

The bars on the window aren’t designed to keep people locked in the room. They’re designed to keep people out. Grandpa updated them after a group of students died in a house fire almost two decades ago. They were in a basement suite and couldn’t escape through the windows because the bars didn’t have a quick-release mechanism. They died of asphyxiation.

Their deaths might possibly save my life as long as the mechanism isn’t rusty.

It takes me a few seconds to figure out how to remove the bars. I place them on the floor, careful not to make a sound that will alert the asshole of my escape plan.

I return to the window and try to slide it open. It doesn’t budge. I try again. Still nothing.

No, no, no, no…

I didn’t get this far only for something so stupid to prevent my escape.

My fingers fumble around the window and stumble on another lock. I quickly unlock it and slide the window open. It doesn’t glide as easily as I would like, thanks to the years of disuse, but at least it’s relatively soundless.

I scan the forest outside the window for anyone guarding my escape route.

No one seems to be lurking in the shadows. God, I hope I’m right about that.

I hoist myself up and squeeze through the small frame. There isn’t enough room for me to leapfrog my feet onto the windowsill. I can only awkwardly wiggle my way to freedom.

I half lower myself, half fall onto the wet ground. Cold rain immediately soaks through my jeans and long-sleeved T-shirt as I deliberate which way to go. I almost expect Jasper to barrel toward me, desperate to get out of the rain. But there is no puppy, no anything except for the punishing storm.

And the man inside the cabin who will likely kill me if he finds me.

An angry curse comes from the other side of the open window, propelling me into action.

I push myself to my feet…and run.

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