After a minute of my eyes darting around the room, I’d realized Harry had grabbed my clothes and they were next to him on the bed. ‘Too close to him’, I thought.
As my body began to shiver I wanted nothing more than to climb under the sheets of that bed. But I wouldn’t, I couldn’t. I’d almost wished Harry had told me where to sleep rather than giving me an option. What if I pick the wrong option? For a moment I’d even wished he’d just sent me back to that dreadful, locked away bedroom.
Choices; I’m no good at making them.
After about a half hour of me standing in the exact place he’d left me, Harry turned in his sleep, knocking my clothes onto the floor. My heart began pounding and I knew I had to get them, and I knew I had to make my escape.
I tip-toed over to his side of the bed and snatched my clothes. I didn’t even put on my bra and panties, I only slipped on my skirt and pulled my sweater over my head and rushed as quietly as possible out of the room.
When I reached the balcony overlooking the stairs, I saw for the first time the family room. The furniture was old, but very clean and well kept. The stone fireplace was very large; the mantle would most definitely surpass my height if I walked up to it.
As I tried to make sense of the painting above the mantle I realized all the lights in the house were on. All of them, which struck me as odd. And as my eyes focused on the floor to ceiling windows in front of me on either side of the fireplace, I could see the reflection of the foyer beneath me, and two shadowy figures moving by what I could only assume was the front door. And as my ears adjusted to the silence, I could hear the men talking.
“You think Styles would mind if I sacked his fridge?” one said.
“You know that bastard keeps inventory of the pencils in his desk, forget about taking his food, mate.”
“Control freak.” He retorted.
As I looked into the reflection of the windows, I noticed to the far right an archway, which led into what appeared to be the kitchen. The reflection wasn’t the clearest, but at least I had a route. I knew I had to at least get to the first floor if I had any hope of getting out of here.
I slowly made my way to the right staircase, hugging the wall on my descent.
“You think Styles really went out and picked himself another bird? After what happened last time?” There was some shuffling and I slowed down, listening carefully to the man’s words.
“He’s repressed that shit, man. Don’t even talk about it, he might still be awake.”
I made it to the very last step without being heard and continued to hug the wall to my right as I turned the corner and headed through the archway into the kitchen.
And to my fortunate surprise, as my eyes looked passed the island and passed the breakfast nook, there was as door, just as I’d hoped. I took a deep breath in and dashed to the white door. Frantically I turned the deadbolt and I gripped my hand on the handle, but it was too late.
It was too late.
It was too late when I’d realized the magnet at the top of the door.
By the time my mind caught up with my wrist, I’d already turned the handle and pulled the door ajar.
SIDE DOOR, OPEN
The alarm system sounded.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
I shut the door fast to see if it would stop, but it didn’t.
SIDE DOOR, OPEN
I heard the slamming of heavy boots against the floor and I knew in a matter of seconds the men from the front door would be turning into the room. My heart pounded, my blood raced and I did the only thing I could.
