No, not to rape her. I get no pleasure out of harming innocent people. Harming guilty people, on the other hand... that was a delicious prospect to drive away the shadow. But not her.
There’s really only one thing I could do, if I didn’t want to kill her. I could convince her to stay. It would be hard, I know. She seemed different than most of the people I’ve met out there in the world. I’m not sure how. Perhaps it was simply that she’d thrown herself at me the first time we’d met, and the timing was right. Her kiss had woken up a little part of brightness in the world, if only for a second or two.
If I wanted her to live, then I had to break her. To make her think that she would be better off here, where I kept her in chains. I would have to make her love me. It was the only chance I had to keep myself from killing her.
Kat
The morning light came through the window.
Window.
I sat up suddenly. The room I was in was dark except for the single small window. Where was I?
Then I remembered. The man on the table. The blood. The knife. All of the sleepiness evaporated in a wave of terror. I was being kept hostage in a basement. He was keeping me here.
But there was a window.
I got up, feeling my ankle ache under the weight of my body. I didn’t know how badly I’d hurt it, but I knew it wasn’t good. Shifting my weight onto it, I thought I could at least walk. Not run, but walk. It was getting better.
Looking around in the dim basement, I saw the empty paint cans. I’d have to stand on them to reach the window, but I doubted they were heavy enough to break through unless I really had leverage to swing at the glass. I tiptoed over to the cans and set them down underneath the window, then stood on top of them. I could just reach the ledge.
It was one of those small cellar windows, so dirty that I couldn’t see anything out of it. All I could see was that there was sunlight coming through, so there must be an opening. If I could get out there, I could run down to the road. I could—
But that would come later. Right now, I needed to get out. The window was big enough for me to crawl through, but just barely. And there was no way I was trying to escape out the front door, not with a killer waiting for me with a knife.
A water pipe ran down from the ceiling to the floor of the basement right next to the small window. I pushed my foot against it and it held fast. I could use it as leverage to climb up. Perfect.
First, I tried to push the window open. There wasn’t any lock that I could see, so I shoved my hand against the window pane, hoping it would force it outward. No luck. I braced my good leg against the paint can and tried to push. The paint can tilted with the pressure under my feet, and I lost my balance. I fell and banged my knee against the wall, holding onto the window ledge with both hands. My breath rushed out of me in a painful gasp.
Okay, so that wasn’t a good plan.
I needed to break the window pane. There was nothing down here heavy enough, though. Nothing but...
My head twisted toward the wine bottles. They would certainly be heavy enough to break the window, I thought. I picked one off of the lower rack and hefted it in my hand. He would hear the noise. But by that time, I would hopefully be out of there.
I stood on the paint cans, my breath coming fast. I would have one chance. I’d have to get through as quickly as possible. I took a deep breath, lifted the wine bottle, and swung.
CRASH!
Glass shards from the window came shattering down over my head. I swung the bottle again and the rest of the pane broke through. Sunlight poured through the broken window, and I could see the forest beyond. I grabbed the edge of the sill and tried desperately to pull myself up. My feet slipped against the water pipe but didn’t hold.
Oh, god. I wasn’t going to be able to make it. Last semester Jules had signed us up for a rock climbing class as an elective. I had gone once and never again, and now I was regretting it. My arms were just too weak to hold my weight.
No. I had to do it. A noise from upstairs made my heart jump into my throat. Footsteps. Oh no!
I crouched down and jumped up as high as I could, clutching at the broken pane. My hand caught on a glass shard and a stabbing pain went through my arm. Blood welled on my skin. I ignored the pain and pulled hard, hard—
“What in the—”
The voice in the doorway behind me made me pull harder. The light in the room flicked on.
No!
My feet kicked at the pipe, scrabbling for purchase. I had my elbow on the ledge, pulling to get through, when I felt an arm come around my waist and hold me tight. Glass tore at my shoulder.
“NO! NO!” I was so close. So close! Blood poured from my arm as I reached out. I had my hand in the dirt outside, but the man was pulling me back in. My fingers clawed at the windowsill, but it was no use. Blood ran down my fingers, made them slippery. I had no hold on the window. He dragged me back inside.