I stood and dizzily walked over to the clothes. I randomly grabbed a garment and pulled it from a hanger. I didn’t care what I looked like. What I cared about was coming up with a plan of attack. Or escape. Or whatever the hell would get me away from Zane.
I turned away from Zane and pulled the long sleeved t-shirt I was wearing over my head, trading it for a white dress. I put it on backwards. The tag tickled my neck. I twisted it again and straightened the hem before taking off my pajama pants.
Zane impatiently drummed his fingers on the chipping drywall that encased the stairwell. I turned around and hesitantly walked to him. His eyes trailed up and down my body. He frowned and then shrugged.
"Good enough," he mumbled and went up the stairs.
My pulse fluttered through me. I cast a glance behind me. I’ll save you too, I thought to Phoebe and Lily. My hand shook when I extended it. I wrapped my fingers around the splintering railing and put my foot on the first step. This was it. My chance. Finally, I would be free.
I blinked from the bright, natural light that streamed into the kitchen. The windows were open, and a soft breeze blew through the large room. I stopped in my tracks and breathed it in. I hadn’t left the basement since my failed attempt at running away. The fresh air felt wonderful.
Zane grabbed my wrist and yanked me forward. "Come on," he grumbled. My bare feet stuck to the tile and I skidded forward. Zane halted and looked down. "Where are your shoes?"#p#分页标题#e#
"I don't know," I said honestly. They were removed the night Travis hit me with his car and I hadn't seen them since.
“Don’t move,” he said gruffly and stormed off.
Once he exited the room, I ran through the kitchen to the backdoor. I put my hand on the knob and twisted it unsuccessfully before I noticed the electronic keypad. My parents had a similar one installed on the front door of their house, though theirs was wired to a security system company and allowed my parents to lock and unlock the door with an app on their phones.
I ran my fingers over the smooth keypad and felt my chance of getting out slip away. I stared at the numbers and felt compelled to try a random combination. I extended my index finger and stopped in fear of setting off an alarm. Logic jolted my brain, and I ran back to where Zane had left me not a moment too soon.
"Here," he said and tossed my shoes at me.
I bent down and put them on. The shoes had been new. Now they were stained with mud from running through the forest. Several drops of blood spotted the toe of the right shoe.
"Hurry the fuck up.” He pushed me.
Already off balance from leaning over, I tumbled to the ground. A sickening crunch vibrated in my knee as the bone rolled against the hard floor. I scrambled up and stuck my feet in my shoes. I could lace them in the car.
Nerves began to bubble in my stomach when I stood. Zane grabbed my wrist and dragged me into the foyer. He stopped at the front door, using his body to block the keypad that this door also boasted. I counted four short beeps followed by one long beep and assumed that I needed a combination with four numbers to get out. I tried to come up with the number of possibilities that left me with, but came up empty handed. Math was never my strong point, but I knew it was a lot, a whole fucking lot.
We exited through the dark oak door onto a covered porch that ran the length of the farmhouse. Two white rocking chairs were angled around a little white round table. Baskets of red flowers hung in between each post on the porch, and a terra cotta pot of tiny yellow flowers sat on the first step down.
My pace slowed as I took it all in. The picture-perfectness of it all was unnerving. White and purple petunias followed the cobblestone path around the house and to the driveway. I had just noticed Jackson, who was shirtless and pulling up weeds by the mailbox, when Zane whirled around.
“Do you try to be this fucking slow?” He was right in my face, reaching for my wrist. I snatched my arm back just in time avoiding his touch.
"Keep your hands off me.” I narrowed my eyes, but my voice quivered more than I would have liked.
Zane only laughed and reached into his pocket, pulling out car keys. He turned back around and pressed a button, unlocking a brand new black Camaro. He opened the passenger door for me, and for a split second, I thought he was being polite before I realized he was making sure I got in the car and didn't book it as soon as his ass hit the driver's seat.
I clenched my jaw and got inside. Hot, stale air choked me. Zane slammed the door shut and hurried around to the other side. My hands shook as I reached for the seatbelt. The metal was hot and hurt my fingers when I touched it. Zane slid into his seat with grace. He opened the windows and turned up the air before turning on the radio to a local alternative station. I hated that he liked the same kind of music that I did.