“Police,” I blurted to the operator when they answered. Then explaining the situation as briefly as I could, I kept watch over Emma. She wasn’t moving, she wasn’t doing anything. She sat horror-stricken at the edge of the bed, her face ghostly white as she listened to me speak, her blackened body still completely naked.
“Get dressed, baby,” I mouthed to her and to my relief, she nodded and started to move.
The buzzing had ceased, which I assumed was because my stepfather was now speaking to Dr Tate. The woman on the other end of the phone was trying to keep me calm but inside Iwas a mess. She reckoned twenty minutes before the cops would get to us. Could we hold them off for that long?
Poor Emma was struggling to get dressed, her aching limbs refusing to do her bidding as she stepped into a pair of track pants and almost fell. And then the buzzing started up again. At least that meant they were still trying to get in through the front door.
“I need to help my friend,” I said to the operator. She asked me to keep on the line and have the phone nearby. “Will do.”
I closed the bedroom door, drowning out the incessant sound of the jarring buzzer and placed the cell phone on the side table. Grabbing up a T-shirt from the floor, I turned to Emma. “Here, lift your arms.”
Gingerly, she did as I asked and I slipped the fabric over her head—
Crack!
The sound of splintering glass came from the living room. I knew immediately that one of them had come up the fire escape, the persistent buzzing a cunning ploy to distract us from the secondary access one of them had used. We looked at each other and froze, neither daring to move in case we made a sound to draw their attention. My eyes scanned the room trying to find a hiding place.
The closet! It was our only hope to delay things long enough for the police to get here.
Retrieving the cell from the side, I stuffed it in my back pocket and took hold of her hand, pulling her with me to the closet. Opening the door, I was presented with a typical girl’s wardrobe, bursting with clothes and boxes, barely room for another item of clothing let alone the two of us.
The sound of footsteps moving around the room next door ended the debate and I nudged Emma forward. She shook her head vehemently, gesturing for me to get in.
Not likely, this was my mess; if anyone was going to get caught, it was me.
Shoving her in, I kissed her lips fleetingly.
“Please stay put ... for me,” I whispered, and then I closed the door quietly just as the handle turned on the bedroom door.
Pinning myself to the wall behind it, I held my breath.
“Abi? Emma?”
It was Dr Tate.
The intercom buzzer picked up again and he swore. Moving back into the living room, I heard him at the intercom releasing the door for my stepfather and then he unlocked the apartment door, his footsteps now approaching as he resumed his search for us.
“Look, Abi, I know you’re here, your car is outside. Why don’t you make things easy for everyone concerned and come out?”
I heard him enter the bathroom briefly and then he came back into the bedroom, his back to me as he scanned the room. I looked about me for some form of weapon, anything to swing at his great big head but there was nothing. He took in the strewn contents of the suitcase, the rumpled sheets and then his eyes settled on the closet as he made his way toward it.
“What is it you want?” I said the words quietly, fear making my voice tremble as I tried to avoid looking toward the closet, praying with all my might that Emma would do as I’d asked and stay put.
He spun on his heel before me, his face lifting into a snide grin. “Abi!”
“Nathan?” my stepfather’s booming voice made it through the apartment.
“In here,” Dr Tate called out and then to me he said, “do you know how much trouble you have caused, young lady?”
Dad strode into the room, his eyes settling on me. “Thank God! Get out there!” he barked.
I refused to move.
“Drug her if you have to,” he said turning to Dr Tate, “but it would look better if she made it out of here on her own two feet. What about Emma?”
“I can’t find her.”
“She has to be here somewhere,the manipulative little bitch!” my stepfather cursed, thrusting his hand through his hair and rounding on me. “Clearly the warning from my men wasn’t effective if she dared let you come near her again. Where is she, Abi?”
