This is From Matilda.

Chapter twenty-nine - prelude

The low sun that glowed through the window eventually woke me up. It seemed that I had slept for at least a few hours.

I tried to sit up, but my body ached impossibly more than before. It was a struggle, but I managed to stand up.

Probably sensing the new lack of my presence, Jack opened his eyes.

"What time is it?" He croaked.

"About eight o clock I think."

He yawned, and propped himself up. I didn't miss him wincing, though he tried to hide it.

"Are you hungry?" I asked

"A bit. I'll cook us something downstairs, though I'm not sure what's left in the fridge."

"Not much is the answer to that. Your biscuit tin is the only thing stocked up in your kitchen."

He smirked, and swung his legs off the bed.
"I'll make us an omelette or something, I think I remember there being a few eggs left."

I thought back to when Jack had last cooked for me. He made toast, which he somehow managed to burn.

"Why don't I do it, you look like you're in a lot of pain." I said hastily.

He eyed me suspiciously, "is my cooking really that bad?"

"Just stay in bed please." I said, and hobbled to the door.

But I when I turned the handle to open it, it wouldn't budge.

"She locked the door."

"Give it another go, sometimes it gets stuck." Jack said, but he didn't sound very convinced.

I pushed on the door again, wrenching the handle so much it felt as though I were about to rip it off.

I slammed my palms against the door, frustration suddenly taking over.

"LEXI. OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR."

A muffled, tinkling laugh echoed  from downstairs.

"You can come out when it's time to turn yourself in. And that's my decision."

I didn't stop screaming, my hands pounding the door until they were numb with pain. Rationality and patience seemed to have left me completely.
I only stopped shaking the door handle, when I felt two hands on my shoulders.

"Don't exhaust yourself, she's not worth it."
His hands slid down my arms to rest in the crook of my elbows.

My arms fell limp, and I let my head rest against his chest behind me.

"I'm lost, Jack. I don't know what to do. I'm so lost."

"Come on." He said gently, tugging my wrist for me to follow him.

We ended up on the bed again; I thought he just wanted to rest again, but he drew the blanket over our heads so that we were completely covered.
I furrowed my eyebrows questioningly, but he didn't say anything.

Instead, he pulled out a piece of paper and a pen from his jeans pocket, and scribbled something on to it.
A moment later, he slid it my way.

Don't talk, she's put bugs in the room.

I opened my mouth to say something, but he put a finger to his lips.
He offered the pen to me, which I hesitantly took, still taken aback by this information.

How do you know?

Jack took the pen again.

Some things seemed out of place. We have to be careful.

'Be careful', did that mean he wanted to try and escape? Did he already have a plan? I didn't know whether to feel hopeful, or terrified.

You have a plan?

He gave me a small nod in response. He took the paper and pen, and he took a little longer to write.

The only way to get rid of her is to get her caught.

After reading his words, my heart beat a little faster. I suppose no matter what path I chose, it wasn't going to be easy or risk free.

How?

He sighed. Ran a hand through his hair. Flipped over the paper, and started scrawling out his plan. There was no hesitation in his writing, no biting the end of the pen or tapping his fingers like he would do when drafting ideas for his book. He had clearly thought about this, or at least had a lot of confidence in his idea.
For a fleeting moment, I admired this confidence and certainty in him, which I hadn't really seen before.

I just hoped that whatever he had planned would give us even the slightest hope of escaping Lexi.