“You are probably imagining it as a lot crazier than it was.”
“I’m not asking,” Nave said, glancing over at me. “But if you ever want to tell someone what you went through, I’m all ears.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
PAST
Lolly
It started with the doorknob.
Which is not the most exciting escape story, but nothing else that followed could have happened if I hadn’t been doing my daily cleaning chores that involved cleaning the doorknobs.
Per Ben’s usual devil-may-care attitude about disposable items, I had to use disposable bleach wipes to clean everything. In fact, I had to use a different wipe per surface. I went through one of those large bleach wipe tubs every day. And, yes, I had to clean every day.
It was no wonder Ben spent so many hours a day holed up in his office working. His disposable item habit had to get expensive.
Anyway, I was cleaning. And the schedule was, of course, from the top down. I used a wet mop (disposable, of course) to clean the ceilings, then did the windows, then it was cabinets, countertops, handles, and doorknobs.
It was a day just like any other.
Except the cleaning wipe got snagged underneath the door handle to the exterior door.
I knew not to react, not to get down on my knees and see what was there. The cameras were always watching, always analyzing my actions. Especially when it had to do with the only exit.
So I pretended to keep scrubbing while using my pinkie finger to explore the spot where the snag happened.
Sure enough, there was a hole. A little round hole.
At first, I figured it was where the screw was located. But the hole was completely empty.
Could it be… a keyhole?
Was there a key somewhere?
Could I actually escape?
Unfortunately, the hope died there.
For about six months.
Until, one day, Ben invited me to start cleaning his office.
It was a task that he had been in charge of since we’d moved to the glass house. But I guess he was tired of it. Or was too busy. He’d been spending more and more time out of the house, working some job that was making him more anxious and forgetful than usual.
Maybe it was being overwhelmed that had him inviting me to do even more chores. Or maybe he was learning to trust me because I had been taking Edith for long walks for months and I always came back.
Granted, it wasn’t like I had a choice.
He put something on my ankle akin to an ankle monitor. Only it was combined with a dog shock collar. So if I went beyond his border, the inner trigger would give me a warning buzz. If I didn’t immediately move backward, I got a shock. If I kept trying to go, I got harder and more constant shocks.
I’d tested them once, kept trying to go until the pain brought me to my knees, my whole body drenched in sweat from the pain.
The tracker was only put on me for the walks, but it absolutely worked as the deterrent he thought it would be.
Whatever the reason, I was granted access to a room I’d previously been forbidden to visit. I had strict instructions not to lift any of the covers that he had on top of his keyboards, but could clean all surfaces.
So I got to work, humming to myself as I cleaned.
