Straightening, I walk up to the glass door that leads to the living room, quietly slide it open, and step inside.
The house is completely silent.There’s no one cooking in the kitchen or setting the table.
The digital clock in the living room reads 7:12.I’m hoping that Beth is still asleep.
Still clutching the rock, I sneak into the kitchen and find another knife.Holding both, I carefully head upstairs.
Beth’s bedroom is the first one on the left.I know because she showed it to me during the house tour.
Holding my breath, I quietly push open the door… and freeze.
Sitting there on the bed is the person I fear most.
Julian.
He’s back early.
“Hello, Nora.”
His voice is deceptively soft, his perfect face expressionless.Yet I can feel the rage burning quietly underneath.
For a second, I just stare at him, paralyzed by terror.I can’t hear anything but the roaring of my own heartbeat in my ears.And then I start to back away, still keeping my eyes trained on his face.My hands are raised defensively in front of me, rock and knife clutched tightly in each.
At that moment, steely hands grip my arms from behind, painfully squeezing my wrists.I scream, struggling, but Beth is too strong.The knife twists backward in my hand, nearly reaching my shoulder.
In a flash, Julian is on me, and both the knife and the rock are wrenched out of my hands.Beth releases me and Julian grabs me, holding me tightly as I scream and writhe hysterically in his arms.
The harder I fight, the tighter his arms become around me, until I go limp, almost fainting from lack of air.
Then he picks me up and carries me out of Beth’s room.
To my surprise, he brings me downstairs and stops in front of the door that leads to his office.A tiny panel opens on the side, and I can see a red light moving over Julian’s face, like a laser at a supermarket checkout.
Then the door slides open.
I stifle a gasp of surprise.His office door opens via a retina scan—something I’ve only seen before in spy movies.
As he carries me inside, I try to struggle again, but it’s futile.His arms are completely immovable, holding me securely in his grip.
I’m once again helpless in his embrace.
Tears of bitter frustration slide down my face.I hate being so weak, so easily handled.He’s not even winded from our struggle.
I’m not sure what I’m expecting him to do.Perhaps beat me, or brutally take me.
But he simply places me on my feet when we’re inside his office.
As soon as he releases me, I take a few steps back, needing to put at least some distance between us.
He smiles at me, and there’s something disturbing in the beauty of that smile.“Relax, my pet.I won’t hurt you.Not now, at least.”
And as I watch, he walks over to a large desk and slides open the drawer, taking out a remote control.Then he points it at a wall behind me.
I turn around warily and stare at two large flat-panel TV screens.They look very high-tech, not at all like the ones I’m used to seeing at home.
The left screen lights up.The image is strange because it’s so unexpected.
It looks like a regular bedroom in someone’s house.The bed is unmade, sheets bunched up carelessly on the mattress.Posters of various football players line the walls, and there is a laptop sitting on the desk.
