Great, more empty calories.
I sit down and pour us both a drink. We begin eating without saying a word. Of course, like everything Sage cooks, this is delicious. A part of me wants to say something to her about it, but by the sullen look on her face, I don’t think she wants to talk.
She’s barely eating, more so just turning the soup over and over in the bowl. She takes only a few bites here and there. I feel bad. Neither of us says a word as I finish my bowl entirely.
“Do you want mine? I’m not going to finish it, and I don’t want to throw it away.” Sage sighs, pushing it over to me. “I guess I don’t have much of an appetite after all.”
She looks down at her lap with a frown, and my heart aches even more. I accept the bowl and start eating it. I wouldn’t normally have more than one serving of food, but I also don’t normally go twenty-four hours without eating.
When I’m finished, Sage grabs both bowls and rinses them off before putting them in the dishwasher along with the wineglasses. “I might just go to sleep early, if you don’t mind.”
I still don’t want her out of my sight, and I wouldn’t normally go to sleep right after dinner. But today is not a normal day. Besides, I’m tired too. My entire schedule changed after finding Sage’s searches, so I might as well go to bed early and have a proper night’s rest before tomorrow.
“Let’s go.” I grab her hand and lead her to the bedroom, careful to be more delicate with her than I was earlier today. She’s emotional and exhausted from it, and I don’t want to make things worse.
Both of us climb into bed, and I grab a zip tie to wrap around both of our wrists. Sage looks disappointed that I’m doing this, but she doesn’t say anything. She just rolls over and faces away from me. Honestly, if I were her, I’d roll over too. If someone zip-tied me every night, I’d at least demand a turndown service and a mint on the pillow.
I almost collapse in bed, surprised at how exhausted I feel. I suppose it’s from the stress of thinking I could get caught. I take a few deep breaths and close my eyes, relaxing against the mattress. Sage is breathing softly, and I listen to the sound of her exhales, as if meditating with them in my ears.
My mind is foggy, and my tongue feels thick. I open my eyes in the dark room, almost having to force my lids open because they’re so heavy. They fall shut on their own, and a memory comes to the front of my mind.
The last time I felt like this was by Sage’s hand, when she drugged me without my knowledge. Before I can reach over and ask her what she did, I slip away to my slumber.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Sage
My heart pounds rhythmically against my chest while I wait for Travis to fall asleep. I really didn’t think I would have another opportunity—or need—to drug Travis, but here we are. I spent all day sitting across from him, thinking about ways to get out of here. Thank God for the cannabutter I had stored in the fridge.
Weed has never let me down before. Thank you to the weed gods.
I consider lighting a celebratory joint in their honor, but then I remember I’m essentially staging a prison break. Probably not the time to get high-fived by Bob Marley’s ghost.
I feel Travis’s body going limp behind me, and I lift the arm he zip-tied to him just to test it. He’s out cold. Tiny snores signal that it’s time to get a move on.
I turn around, moving as cautiously as I can. I don’t know how long he’s going to be out, but he had quite a lot of weed in his soup. After all, he ate mine too. That was surprisingly easy. I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop now.
Looking at him sleeping, I almost regret what I’m about to do. I’ve worked so hard to get Travis to like me. I’ve spent countless hours fantasizing about our future together, and the idea of not having him in my life anymore is heartbreaking. But I know now that I can’t fixhim. I can’t shape him into some vigilante hero going after sex offenders and child predators. He’s going to target whoever the hell he wants to, and I’ll have to sit by knowing he’s attacking innocent people. I just can’t do that.
I hold my breath as I reach across his sleeping body for the pocketknife he keeps on his nightstand. He shuffles a little under me, and my entire body stiffens. The moment he wakes up and sees me trying to free myself, it’s going to be over for me. If I can’t get out of this now, Travis is going to have no choice but to end my life.
He smacks his lips a couple of times, and a loud snore follows. I almost let out a sigh of relief, but I’m not done yet. There’s time for that later.
My hand wraps around the cold metal of the knife, and I flick it open, promptly slicing at the plastic around my wrist to free myself. Step two of my plan is now complete. Travis is asleep, and I’m not bound to him. Now all I have to do is leave.
It’s surprisingly hard. Even with everything I know about Travis, walking out of here and knowing it’ll be the last time I ever see him is difficult. He’s not who I thought he was, but that doesn’t take away the love I have for him. Leaving him now is what’s best for us both. It’s probably my only chance at survival, anyway.
The mattress creaks ever so softly as my weight shifts on it. Of course, now the bed decides to develop a Broadway-level sound system. I half expect it to start narrating my escape like a dramatic podcast—“And then she froze, heart thundering, mattress groaning like a haunted cello ...”
I never noticed the sound before, but now it seems to blast and echo through the room. I silently curse under my breath. Thankfully, Travis still doesn’t wake up.
I tiptoe to the bedroom door and open it just enough to slink out. I don’t close it behind me for fear of the clicking noise it’ll make. Besides, if Travis is going to wake up, I want to be able to hear it and make a run for it before he finds me.
My phone and laptop are still on the kitchen island. I grab my phone, sacrificing my laptop for the time being. I’m going to have to travel light if I’m going to be quick about it.
I load up my backpack with a couple of changes of clothes and quickly make my way to the front door. I close it behind me and stand in place for a few moments, contemplating whether or not I should go back.
It would be easy to cut the zip tie on Travis’s wrist and reapply new ones, pretending like none of this ever happened. Maybe I can even play stupid in the morning when he’s mad about me drugging him and make it seem like I mixed up the butter. Someday it can be a funny story we laugh about with our children.
