Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
The door slams and we’re in darkness.
We screamed for a while.
It didn’t help.
“He’s going to come back soon,” Elisa whispers for the millionth time. “It’ll be soon, right, Fio?”
“Yeah, it’ll be soon.” I push the water bottle into her hands. “Drink this.”
“But we’re almost out.”
“That’s okay. You drink it.”
“Fio—”
“Just drink the water, Elisa. They’ll come for us soon, right? Then it won’t matter.”
Elisa whimpers, and I hear her take a long drink.
It’s all the water we have. After that, we’re out. Dad never bothered stocking the panic room because we weren’t supposed to use it yet. He kept saying he was going to have someone come out and finish it up, but he just never did. And I never really cared. When would we ever need a stupid panic room? I thought it was dumb when he had it built to begin with.
I don’t know how long we’ve been in here.
But I’d guess at least two days. We’ve had a single bottle of water between us, and I’ve given Elisa most of it. My mouth is so dry, and I’d do just about anything for a drink.
But we could be in here for another few days, and what would happen to Elisa if I take some for myself?
She’d die. That’s what.
“He’ll come get us,” Elisa says over and over again. “Marcus won’t forget. He knows we’re here. He’ll come for us. He’ll come.”
More time passes.
The water disappears.
My head pounds like someone’s trying to break it open. The gunshots stopped a long time ago, but everything else has been silent. I try to sleep as much as I can because being awake is terrible. I can’t think. I can barely breathe. My mouth tastes like cotton, and my skin feels like it’s flaking away.
I need to get out of here.
Elisa’s crying again. I’m tempted to lick her tears up. “They’ll come,” she says, hugging her knees.
“They’ll come,” I agree, but I don’t even know who they are anymore.
My neck hurts. My shoulders ache. My legs are cramped and my feet are numb. There’s barely enough room for the two of us. It smells terrible. But at least I don’t need to pee anymore. That went away a while back.
There’s a noise. I’m not sure if I’m imagining it, but there’s a slight banging. Like someone’s drumming against the pipes.
“Do you hear that?” Elisa asks, clutching onto me.
“It’s real? I thought it was just in my head.”
“No, I think…” She trails off, straining to listen.
It happens again.
Elisa starts screaming. It’s so loud. I wish she’d stop. But she screams and pounds on the door. I curl into a ball, too tired to do anything. My head’s all cotton balls and fluff. I can’t think. I can’t even move. Elisa keeps kicking and screaming, and I wonder how I’m going to sleep again with all this noise. But my eyelids are heavy, and maybe it won’t be that hard.
Until suddenly, light blasts across my vision. I gasp, covering my face with my arm, cringing away.
“Holy shit! They’re in here!” Raf’s voice. But that can’t be right. Raf’s not in the room with us. “I got you girls. I got you. Just hold on. I got you. Hey! I need help in here!”
Hands grab at me, and Elisa sobs and gasps and hugs me, and all I can do is ask for some water.
“How did that even happen?” he asks, voice strained.
“Marcus was killed, and he was the only person that knew where we were. The panic room was only half-finished, and I guess nobody thought to check inside until Raf went looking for something in the closet and just barely heard Elisa screaming. They thought we’d been killed or kidnapped. We just weren’t important enough for them to put much effort into looking for us. They just didn’t care.”
“Fuck,” he whispers, looking grim. “That must’ve been horrible.”
“I still don’t like cramped spaces. I can handle the dark. I don’t freak out if there’s no visible water source nearby anymore. But I hate tight spaces.”
He leans forward and pulls me against him. I snuggle into his lap as his arms wrap tight. He’s a little sweaty, but I like the smell.
Telling that story wasn’t easy. But it feels good to get it out in the open. Not exactly like a weight’s been lifted, but more like I’m finally letting Luca see this important piece of who I am.
Because those three days define me now. I pretend like they don’t, like I’ve moved on, but a part of me is still trapped in that hollow space behind the closet. A part of me is still dying of thirst and clinging on to the pathetic hope that my sister might survive somehow. Everything after has been my attempt at escaping that place.
“Thank you for sharing,” he whispers, nuzzling my neck. “I’m sure that wasn’t easy.”