I crack a smile. It’s not even close to being the worst on a long list.
“Clearly, I know nothing about you. If I did, I would be able to figure out why you’re smiling like a psychopath right now, so you should just let me go.”
“A psychopath wouldn’t have stopped you from getting robbed,” I defend.
“If it worked in your favor, you would have. Were you afraid I would call the cops and they would have a look at the club?” Her head tilts to the side as she examines me.
“No,” I state emphatically. “Now step back.”
She holds her ground for a few seconds, then says, “I need to use the bathroom.”
I lower the drill, thinking about how many times I, or whoever is here with her, will have to let her out to use the bathroom. She could use any one of those times to try to escape.
“Come with me,” I instruct with a change of plans.
“Where?” She doesn’t budge.
“If I have to pick you up and carry you, it’s not going to hurt me,” I reply.
“Yes, it will, when I kick you in the balls.”
“Yeah, sure,” I mutter, dismissing her threat, and her face gets all red. She doesn’t like being patronized. “Get moving, Max.” I usher her in the right direction with my hand.
“I should have killed you when I had the chance.” She storms past me.
“When would that have been? The night you followed me home and sat in your car until you thought I was inside? Right through there.” I point to the other bedroom, the one with a bathroom. This is a better solution.
She glares over her shoulder but keeps moving until she reaches the door. “What’s this? Is this your room?”
“No, we both know where I live, and it isn’t here, but there is a bathroom.” I point to the door on the left.
She peeks into the room as if it might be a trap, searching the corners of the space as if someone is lying in wait to grab her, before she eventually steps in tentatively. “Go on,” I encourage, priming the drill to install the low-tech but effective padlock bracket on the door.
“I like the other room,” she says, watching the drill.
“Then earn it back,” I tell her while I drill in the first screw.
“What the hell does that mean?” When I look over, I notice her shift in stance. Her feet are spread a little wider, and her hands are hanging loosely at her sides, but her fists are balled up.
“It means tell me what I want to know. Work with me.”
Her fingers loosen, and so do the muscles in her face as she relaxes. “I did, but you don’t believe me.”
“Give me a reason why I should,” I counter, then drive home another screw.
When I look up again, the bathroom door is closed and she’s out of sight. I let out a sigh. I have no idea how this is going to end. She’s damn stubborn, and I have an obligation to keep my family safe, so letting her walk away isn’t an option.
MAXINE
“Are you hungry?” he asks, leaning against my doorframe. I glance toward the window, noting the sun is setting, stealing the light. I’ve been lying here for hours, thinking about how much I fucked up by not escaping this morning when I actually had the chance.
I shrug, not speaking, and he walks away. The second he’s gone, I wish I’d engaged him more. Maybe if I can get him to like me, it will be harder for him to kill me. Is that all I’m hoping for now, to not be killed?
I let my eyes sink closed, wishing for sleep I can’t afford. My stomach is aching again, but I don’t want to take the pills and miss my chance to get out of here tonight—if there is one. With every minute that passes, I feel like he’s tightening the noose around my neck.
The whirr of the microwave reminds me of the fan I use to sleep at home. It took a little while to get used to the sound, but once I did, it helped me sleep so I wasn’t waking up every time the house settled, thinking someone was coming into my room.
The next time I open my eyes, the room is dark. I can’t even tell if the door is still open. Damn it,I fell asleep, and by the feel of my dry mouth, I’ve been out for a while. Good thing he hasn’t offered me a toothbrush to spill my guts. That might be the one thing that could loosen my lips.
