Chapter 17
[Addison]
“This is insane, Michael! Let me out!” I shouted, rattling the locked door, my fists pounding against the painted wood. “You can’t keep me here!”
“You need help, Addy!” he shouts back. “I’m calling Dr. Greene. He’ll come and give you something to ease your anxiety. You’re still shaken from the kidnapping. Don’t worry, he’ll get you fixed up.‘
Michael’s voice grows happier as he continues to speak, truly believing his own lies.”
“You’ll see, Addy. You’ll be yourself again soon.”
Dr. Greene is Michael’s psychiatrist. Ever since Evelyn left, Michael has been seeing Dr. Greene once a week. I don’t know him
very well, having only met him once or twice during fundraisers and social functions, but he is an old–school doctor who believes
in heavy medication.
And who knows what Michael is going to tell him about me. Whatever it is, Evelyn will likely have a hand in it.
Opening my purse, I see the contract and business card from Mr. Grant. He had said I could call him about anything. Unfortunately, Michael stole my phone. I have about $60 in my wallet. If I can just get out of this room, I can run to the nearest train station and make it to Tracy’s apartment. From there I can call Mr. Grant.
Maybe he can help. I can’t stay here.
Looking around the room, I try to find something I could use as a lever to break the door lock. In the closet, I see Michael’s golf
clubs.
I wonder if that’ll work. It seems to work in the movies.
Walking back to the door, I jam the head of the club in between the door and doorframe with enough force that the area near the lock splinters slightly. Encouraged, I keep pushing until it is wedged into the door nicely.
Tugging with all my might, the wood groans. I keep pulling waiting to hear the door lock pop.
“Damn it! Open!” I cry as I keep pulling.
But the golf club wasn’t wedged deep enough and with my final effort it slips from my hands, and it flies out of position. Gasping, my head spins as I stand slowly, my arms and legs shaking as I turn to look at my progress.
For all the effort I come away exhausted, the door only has a small chip in it and the golf club is twisted and bent. There are seven more clubs in the bag, and although I am tempted to use the driver to knock the doorknob from the frame, I don’t have enough to lift it. Screaming in frustration, I beat the door with what remains of the warped club, but other than denting the door, my weak efforts don’t do much good.
I’m trapped.
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Chapter 17
Leaning against the wall, I slide to the floor, the bent golf club clattering at my feet. This is hopeless.
I might as well give in to my fate.
25 Bonus
Sitting alone, I hear Michael’s car start and the sound of his tires rolling over the small rocks lining our driveway. He must be on his way to work. He probably thinks he doesn’t need to worry about me going anywhere now that he has me locked so securely.
The house is so quiet that I can hear the birds trilling in the tall maple tree right outside our window. The maple tree had been one of the reasons I had purchased this home. The entire street is lined with them. Over one–hundred years old, every fall their leaves
turn an amazing shade of red, like a delicate flame.
Today the leaves are green and bright. The finches are nesting, bringing little twigs to the high branches as they prepare to lay
their eggs. It has been a cacophony of mating sounds since the beginning of March, waking me every morning as the dawn light
hits and warms the room.
As one of them flutters past the window, I realize something.
The windows are not locked.
Standing, I look out the window. The bedroom is on the second floor, but the drop isn’t too far. Even if I were to miss the tree, I
wouldn’t likely break anything, especially since we have large topiaries against the brick walls.
I should be fine. I can do the only thing between me and freedom is a pane of glass and a simple screen.
It’s worth the risk. Even if I fall, I’ll at least be free.
The latch springs open easily. The window is stiff, but with a little force, it is soon open wide enough for me to slither through.
The maple tree’s branches stretch across the stone walkway in the garden below. Blooming roses greet me from below, their fragrance energizing me as I stretch my arm out to grab the nearest branch. My arms are a bit too short, so I lean a bit further,
propping myself up onto my knees.
My fingers catch along the smooth bark as my nails try to find a fingerhold. So close, I’m so close. Just a little bit more.
A car door slams, startling me. I fall forward, my hand missing the branch by less than an inch as my body lurches forward.
The topiary catches my fall, the thorns from the climbing roses scraping my arms and legs as I continue to roll. My ankle, which had caught on the windowsill on my way down, aches dully.
The world around me is spinning as I try to stand, but I am unable to put pressure on my right foot and I tumble again, wincing.
I can’t let this stop me. I need to keep trying. I….
“Agh,” both legs buckle underneath me and I hit the stone walkway on both knees. Still weak from my stay in the hospital, I try to crawl, but I can’t–I don’t have the strength.
“Addison!” Michael’s voice echos behind me as three sets of feet rush towards me. “What have you done?!”
