Knocking hard I said, “Ceci it’s me!”
Nothing.
I can’t get up. Those were her words earlier. They choked me just as much now in my head as they had coming out of her mouth.
“Celestia! Open up, honey. It’s Connor,” I tried again.
Nothing.
I resisted the urge to yell or curse or lash out in frustration. I knew I was just scared. Scared to find her in a state that I wasn’t ready to reconcile. Scared to find her hurt.
Could she be hurt? If she was, how was I going to get into a locked cellar?
My chest started to feel like a cage, my oxygen the prisoner. How was I going to get to her? But forcing myself to calm down I tried to think.
If she can’t open the door we had other options. The fire department, the police, her boss. We had options. I just needed to get her out of there.
I tried calling her but it went to voicemail. I tried again. Voicemail. My mind circled, panic starting to outweigh sense. Was he in there with her? Is that why she wasn’t answering? Was she hiding for her life in a dark, cold cellar? Was she fighting?
Fuck.
“Celestia!” I called, banging again. Against my usual calm I banged on that door repeatedly as I pleaded, “If you can’t walk, crawl. Do something, just come unlock the door so I can get you out of there.”
Still. Nothing.
No phone call. No text. No indication that she was okay.
Minutes passed, all of which I talked. Yelled. What I said, I had no clue. All sounds were starting to blur together, the only surety being that none of those sounds were her voice. She wasn’t talking, wasn’t answering, I hardly even knew if she was still in there. And I was starting to waver on what the hell I should do.
I could call the authorities, or the fire department, or I could—
The noise of metal knocking against metal pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts. The distinctive sound of a latch releasing slicing through my senses.
I had the door open in seconds and was plowing down the old creaking steps of the cellar with one purpose.
Find her.
I didn’t have to look far, because there she was. Red hair everywhere, the remnants of what used to be a braid spilling over her shoulder. Those very same shoulders bunched so high they covered her ears, and her amber eyes so wide, so dilated they looked black. In front of her, her shaking hands were holding a crowbar that looked so rusted she probably needed a tetanus shot.
When I entered, she staggered fast steps backward, cowering toward these large wooden barrels near the back of the room. I had no idea what else was back there. The light stopped about halfway in before it turned pure black.
“It’s me,” I said, wasting no time before charging for her.
Bad move. She took a swing at me before I could even get in range. I ducked back hissing.
What the hell?
“Hey,” I said placatingly. Slowly this time, I eased my way closer to her. “Celestia, it’s me.”
This caught her attention. Her eyes clamoring into mine and seeing me for the first time. “Con?”
“I’m right here, honey,” I said, easing another step in. Her eyes racked around her and then behind me frantically but her face remained wrapped in steel. Tight and strained as she surveyed around us for her assailant. I took another cautious step, pointing at myself as I did. “Look right here. Nobody else is around. Look at me.”
She did. For once in her fucking life, she listened, and I could tell the moment she came back. Wherever the hell she was, she came back. Her chest heaving in and out like she had just ran a marathon. Her eyes going from deer in headlights to murderous, and I didn’t know if I was relieved or worried to see that look, but I was just glad to have her here with me.
“Drop the crowbar, Ceci.”
She shook her head.
