Page 12 of Vows From Hell
Why?
A small groan slipped past my lips, and then I chuckled. The front door was locked.
Like a broken film, memories flashed behind my eyes.
The times when I desperately tried to escape from the cabin and he kept it locked. My heart swelled at the souvenir, and I couldn’t help but grin to myself.
This time was different.
I expected him to come. He probably thought I played right into his hands, but it was the other way around. The winner of this game was going to be me, with him falling on his knees at my feet.
To keep me occupied while he was out there, doing God knew what, I turned on the TV after finding some snacks for myself.
There were a couple of movies on, but that wasn’t what I was interested in. A news channel didn’t broadcast my disappearance this time around, or perhaps I hadn’t caught it on time.
Much to my surprise, it wasn’t a remote location. It wasn’t a cabin in the woods in the middle of nowhere or a place that was in any way significant to me.
With a mere glance out of the window, I noticed a quiet neighborhood. Given the size of the house, it resembled a summer stay. A bit bigger, but not big enough to be considered a home.
Soon enough, I found myself bored out of my mind.
Was this one of his mind games? Boring me to death?
There wasn’t anything interesting on TV, and there were no books for me to read, except my own.
That was a horror movie I wasn’t going to watch.
It was starting to get dark outside quickly, and that was when I heard faint footsteps on the front porch.
Carefully, I stood from the comfortable couch and grabbed the first knife in the kitchen I could find.
Since Micah was able to keep himself hidden whilst killing people for years, I was now certain that he had help. However, there was also a possibility of that person knowing who I was and where I was, and I was yet to find out whether they were a friend or a foe.
If it turned out to be Micah, a light stab in the forearm was a punishment good enough for abandoning me.
For now, at least.
There was no way I was stopping at something as silly as a stab wound.
Light on my feet, I was a couple of inches away from the door, gripping the steel handle of the kitchen knife. It was sharp, pointy, and definitely enough to at least send a warning.
The footsteps came to an end, and my ears perked.
I couldn't hear anything except the unsteady rhythm of my heart.
Blood rushed through my veins, anxiety building in the pit of my stomach. An exhilarating feeling Micah had deprived me of; excitement.
“I don’t know what you’re planning with that knife, but I strongly suggest you drop it before you hurt yourself.’’
His deep voice rang in my ears, soothing my nerves like the softest lullaby. My hand trembled momentarily before I managed to grip the handle tighter, jaw clenching.
Who was he bossing around?
“Hurt myself?” I snorted, yet my voice cracked. “If I recall, it was you who ended up on the sharp end of the blade once before.’’
A laugh came from the other side of the door, chilling the blood in my veins. I was frozen to the spot, just like last night, when he was behind me in the coffee shop.
My resolve always seemed to falter when it came to this man.