“What else are you on, Emma?” My eyes flick to the table behind her.
“I—I’m not?—”
She stumbles over her words while Heston and I remain silent. A few times, I chance a glance in his direction. His eyes are hardened and ready to step in if need be, but I’m still not going to give up on talking her down before shit blows up.
“You’re not sober,” I state with enough assurance for her to know that I’m no longer taking a stab at her current situation. She’s as loaded as the gun in her hand and losing her mind. “We can get you the help that you need. But I need you to lower your arm and step back first.”
Before she has a chance to think it over, red and blue lights shine in through the windows. Emma’s breaths pick up in apanic and she raises the gun even higher, now pointing at my forehead.
“Emma,” Heston growls. “It’s over. Put down the fucking gun or?—”
“It’s the only way now!” she interrupts him. “In another life, it’ll all work out, right?” Her sad smile is what sends off the alarm bells in my head. It’s sick and twisted, but I think she knows that if she kills me, Heston won’t hesitate to shoot her. Six feet under, but together just the same.
In the next five seconds, a window shatters at the back of the house, and my head turns. Emma takes that as her opportunity to pull the trigger, Heston lunges toward me with gritted teeth, and we both crash into the wall.
My eyes blink slowly, and I see nothing but blurry streaks of black and white. As hard as I try, I can’t keep them open.
A door crashes open somewhere, I think, but it’s a muted sound that comes from miles away.
35
SAVANNAH
My head is turned to the side with my cheek resting on the tops of my hands. I’m lying on my stomach and by now, I’m sure the side of the handcuffs have left an indentation somewhere on my wrists and the side of my face. But this is the only position I can be in where I can’t feel the emptiness of my stomach as much.
I’ve tracked the sun as its beam of light coming through the window crept across the floor. The closer that it got to me, the longer the morning dragged on. I was thankful when the sun came up. That bleak darkness and utter silence of last night did nothing to help me stay calm. Instead, I felt more on edge.
I haven’t drank any of the water in the bucket that Emma left for me out of fear that she’d poisoned it, and my throat is feeling drier with every passing hour. I’m thirsty, hungry, and exhausted from crying and getting no sleep.
More than once, I’ve wondered what would happen if Emma never came back. Or maybe worse—if she did come back but never set me free.
My visions have consisted of her wiggling her way back into Warren’s life now that I’m out of the way. I thought about howshe’d used my brother, not only for making Warren jealous but evidently for drugs too.
I’ve had plenty of time to rehearse the speeches that I may never get to give.
You’ve hurt me for far too long with your condescending words and awful attitude toward me. I’ve done nothing to earn that from you and all you’ve done is join in on our parents’ tendency to belittle me, I’d tell him.
In my head, I stand tall and confident facing my demons. No one coaches me through it, I just spell out exactly how I feel without holding back a single emotion.
I’ve learned about love. And when people love you, they do everything within their power to understand you instead of trying to mold you like clay and then voicing your embarrassment of them publicly when they don’t act exactly as you demand. I don’t deserve the way you’ve shut me out emotionally and yet still held me to an unreachable standard in your stupid circle of high society,I’d say to my parents.
Maybe I’ll tell them one day. Maybe I won’t get the chance. With the ability to speak freely to myself while I’m stuck down here, I thought of what I’d say to Warren too.
I don’t have the heart to go over it again in my mind. It’s too painful wishing I could say it to his face while wrapped in his arms instead.
My heavy eyes blink slowly as I stare mindlessly at the window across the room. But they snap wide open when something passes by outside, momentarily blocking the sunlight.
I study the window intensely and wait with heavy breaths. When the sunlight is blocked for a second again, a bolt of adrenaline surges through my body and I sit up in a flash. The chain attached to my wrists clangs against the concrete floor, and I yank it for some slack as I stand.
I only wobble on my feet for a second, working to find my balance.
My eyes roam the ceiling, wondering if it’s Emma outside. I’d hear the front door and her footsteps entering the house if she was here. Did I miss hearing her car pull up? Surely I would have recognized the sound of the engine. I don’t remember hearing anything at all, but I also know that I’m so tired and famished that I almost feel drunk, so it’s not entirely impossible that I wouldn’t have heard a vehicle approaching the house.
My gaze flicks around frantically and I wait for another sign of life outside of this basement. When I finally hear something, it doesn’t come from this house. I think it’s coming from the one next door.
There’s a rhythmic tapping sound. Faint enough for me to know that it’s not extremely nearby, but still loud enough to be within earshot. A hammer?
When it stops, I lose control over my reactions and instincts take over. I drop the slack of the chain that I was holding and it crashes to the ground. My mouth opens, my eyes slam shut, and I let out the loudest possible scream that I can manage. It’s hoarse at first, but I clear my throat, take three massive breaths, and try again.