Eight
BLAIRE
Something was dripping.
I didn’t think I had forgotten to turn anything off, so a tap must have been leaking. Every time I thought it stopped, there it was again.
Drip.
Give me any other day over the last two months, and I would’ve been grateful for the lack of nightmares. But this? This was torture, and I wasn’t even sure what crime I committed to deserve it.
Drip.
Isn’t this how they punished hostages? I was certain I had read something about that before, in a novel, maybe. Where they would let a single drop of water splash onto a person’s forehead until, eventually they confessed, or lost their minds.
Drip.
Unfortunately for me, I had lost my mind a long time ago. All this leak was doing was keeping me awake. I had already gotten out of bed, checked all the faucets, and nothing looked out of the ordinary to me. Yet, the dripping hadn’t stopped for hours. Last time I checked, the clock blinked just after midnight.
Drip.
I should be grateful. No sleep meant no nightmare. Instead, I was bitter. My brain needed to turn off.Ineeded to turn off. I didn’t even have the drugs I was planning on taking tonight after my meeting with Winder went sour.
Folding my pillow over my head, I did my best to remove any thoughts of the asshole who thought he knew so much more than me. Serves me right for thinking I felt a connection with a stranger. Some people were better off as dreams instead of reality.
Drip.
For fuck’s sake. I could still hear the dripping from under the fluff of my pillow. I was going to lose it, right here, right now, and the thought made me want to choke out a laugh. Months of a nightmare, sure, no problem. Thinking I was covered in blood, cool, I could handle it. But one night of a leaky faucet, and I was ready to smother myself with my pillow.
Fuck this leak. Fuck Winder and his stupid smug face as he told me he was the only protection I had. Like I needed protection, especially fromhim. What kind of name was Winder, anyway?
Click.
I froze, my heartbeat stuttering a pace quicker. That wasn’t a drip.
Sleep was no longer a thought in my mind. I uncovered my head, everything sounding a thousand times louder in the dark. Even the drip seemed to have silenced, waiting for what came next. My body froze in place, overcome by a strange numbness.
Maybe I was just paranoid. Correction, I was definitely paranoid. But being paranoid didn’t also mean I hadn’t heard what sounded like the locks on my door. Which was crazy, surely. I even had extra locks. No one was getting in here. No onewantedto get in here. Regardless of whatever Winder thought he knew, no one was out to get Blaire Barlowe.
My words fell flat as the obvious sound of my front door opening echoed down the hall.
I imagined this scenario a thousand times in my head at night as I fell asleep, what I would do in this situation. It was almost like an anxiety bedtime story.If someone broke in, I’d be ready.
Except someonehadbroken in, and I wasn’t ready. I had a plan, but actually following through was a different story.
Quiet footsteps trod around what sounded like my kitchen. My bedroom door was shut and locked, but that didn’t mean anything if whoever was in my apartment wasn’t just looking for leftovers.
Sensation was returning to the tips of my toes, tingling in my arms and stomach. I needed to move, and I needed to movenow. My eyes darted from side to side, as I figured out my next steps. I needed to grab the running shoes I kept under my bed, open my window, and climb out onto the fire escape. That was the tricky part, because the fire escape was creaky and passed right in front of my living room window. The footsteps still padded through the kitchen, but if I didn’t move soon, I was going to lose my window of opportunity.
Taking a deep breath, I rolled to the side of the bed. Feet on the floor, I slid them into the runners I kept under my bed and crept to the window. I pushed it up as quietly and slowly as I could.
The window was well greased, thanks to my overthinking, but I couldn’t do anything about that goddamn fire escape. I stood in front of the cool night air for a moment, the city quiet in the dead of the night, the breeze blowing against my thin shirt and sweatpants. I couldn’t hear the footsteps anymore. This was either bad or good. Good, they could’ve left and this would all be for nothing. Bad, they heard me and were waiting for me to pass in front of the living room window.
I shook my head to quiet the thoughts and climbed out, grimacing as my weight hit the rickety metal. Immediately, I dropped to my hands and knees, crawling toward the stairs just past the living room window. It was endless in the dark, farther than I ever thought it could be. Five feet now. Four. I was almost there. Everything narrowed down to this moment, to this second, to this next breath. Years of preparation had come down to this.
A bang against my living room window had me stumbling onto my side. I couldn’t bring myself to look up into the window, but judging from the screaming coming from behind it, someone was there.
Someone looking forme. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.
