Part 3
Time seemed to fracture into jagged, agonizing shards. The rattle of the garage door handle was followed by the loud, metallic clink of a heavy metal gas canister hitting the concrete floor just on the other side of the dividing wall.
“Come on, come on,” I whispered frantically to myself, digging my fingernails into the thick fibers of the rug and pulling my dead weight forward. My muscles screamed in protest, burning with lactic acid, but fear was a far more powerful fuel than pain.
Evan had managed to haul himself up onto his knees, leaning heavily against the sofa cushion. His face was pale, slick with cold sweat, but his eyes were locked onto mine with a fierce, desperate determination that broke my heart.
“Under,” I mouthed, pointing frantically to the space beneath the heavy sectional sofa. It was a deep, shadowed cavity, blocked by a low wooden valence, but there was just enough room for a small child—and, with some agonizing contortion, perhaps a desperate mother.
Evan didn’t hesitate. He wriggled headfirst into the dusty gloom beneath the couch, pulling his heavy legs in after him just as the interior door swung open with a loud creak.
I didn't have time to make it. If I tried to crawl the remaining four feet to the sofa, Julian’s shadow would fall right across me before I cleared the coffee table. My eyes darted around the dim room, scanning for an alternative hiding spot. To my right stood the heavy velvet floor-length curtains framing the front window.
With a final, desperate heave, I lunged sideways, tumbling behind the thick folds of burgundy velvet just as Julian’s heavy boots stepped into the living room.
The fabric was thick, smelling faintly of dust and lavender, completely obscuring me from view, though I could see out through a small gap where the panels didn't quite meet.
Julian stepped into the center of the room, carrying a red plastic five-gallon gas can in one hand and a heavy iron fireplace poker in the other. The overhead light was off, illuminated only by the dying amber glow of the streetlamp outside and the flickering blue light of a television left on in the upstairs guest room.
He stopped right where Evan and I had collapsed minutes earlier.
For a terrifying second, he just stood there, breathing heavily. He looked down at the empty floor space where our bodies had been.
Julian froze.
The gas can slipped from his hand, hitting the hardwood floor with a hollow, echoing thud that made me jump.
“What?” Julian whispered, his voice pitching upward in sudden, sharp panic. He spun in a slow circle, his eyes darting frantically across the room. The casual, chilling confidence he had worn earlier evaporated instantly, replaced by the feral panic of a trapped animal.
“Sarah?” he called out, his voice cracking. He took two rapid steps toward the dining table, kicking our half-eaten plates. They shattered against the floor, ceramic shards flying in all directions. “Evan?!”
Silence answered him, save for the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen.
My heart hammered so loudly in my ears I was terrified Julian would hear it through the fabric of the curtain. I held my breath, pressing my palm tightly against my mouth to muffle any sound.
Julian pulled a heavy tactical flashlight from his jacket pocket and clicked it on. A blinding beam of white light cut through the dim room, sweeping across the walls, the ceiling, and the furniture. He checked the kitchen, his boots clattering rapidly on the tile, then rushed down the hallway toward the bedrooms, yelling our names with a frantic urgency that sounded entirely rehearsed yet genuinely panicked.
While he was out of the room, I knew I had to act. We couldn't stay trapped here; the house was a cage, and Julian had the keys.
I glanced toward the sofa. Beneath the dark valence, a pair of wide, terrified eyes blinked back at me. Evan was watching me, waiting for a cue.
I slowly parted the heavy velvet curtains, my eyes straining in the dark. The front door was less than fifteen feet away. If I could reach it, unlock the deadbolt without making a sound, and grab Evan, we could make it out to the street before Julian realized we hadn't vanished into thin air.
Just as I placed one hand flat on the floor to push myself up, heavy footsteps thundered back down the hallway.
Julian wasn't searching aimlessly anymore. He was holding something dark and metallic in his right hand—a heavy hunting knife he must have kept hidden in his workshop.
May you like
“I know you’re awake,” Julian snarled, his voice losing every pretense of warmth, dropping into a cold, venomous hiss. “I know you heard me. You can’t run. All the doors are locked from the outside.”
My blood ran cold. The doors were bolted. We were trapped inside with a man who had planned our murder down to the last detail.
