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Hannah

THE MASK WAS SO Malcolm couldn’t be recognized in the pictures; Hannah was able to figure that much out. She also understood that meant he planned to show the pictures to someone, or he wouldn’t care. Maybe a lot of someones. Maybe he’d post them anyway. Maybe he planned to sell them. That explanation was horrible, but none of that mattered unless she got out alive.

“You scream, and you’re dead,” Malcolm said in that low, gravelly voice. He removed the tape from Hannah’s mouth and pulled out the rag. She sucked in a breath but said nothing. He brought the blade of the screwdriver to the tape on her wrists and forced it to cut through. “I’m freeing your hands so you can undress yourself. You try anything, and I mean anything, and—”

“You’ll kill me.”

“Now you’re getting it.”

Malcolm shuffled away from her, until his back was against the opposite wall of the hall. Between the mask and his long limbs, he looked more like a spider than a person skittering across the floor. He moved the screwdriver to his left hand, scooped up his phone with his right, and watched her through the small screen as he snapped a few pictures, then switched to video. “Okay, stand up. Slow.”

Both Hannah’s legs were asleep, and she had to use the table on one side and the grandfather clock on the other to leverage herself up. The feeling quickly returned to her limbs, but that didn’t stop the shaking.

“Now take off your jeans, slow.”

Hannah fumbled with the snap, got it open, and pulled down the zipper.

“Wait. Stop,” Malcolm ordered. “First, the sweatshirt, then the rest. That’ll be better. You’re not wearing a bra, right?”

The memory of Danny fumbling with the clasp and finally getting it came back to her, the warmth of his gentle touch. It all felt so long ago. The tears wanted to come, but Hannah wasn’t about to give Malcolm the satisfaction. She reached for the hem of her baggy sweatshirt, started to pull it up.

“You can at least try to look sexy. Marcie did.”

And that made her angry.

The blood boiled within her.

People always talked down to her, disrespected her. Danny had been one of the few who didn’t, and now he was gone. Everyone treated her like they were better than her, and now she was letting this guy … yes, she was letting him do this to her. She could either stop it or let it happen; that was totally in her control.

Hannah had no idea where these thoughts came from, but she welcomed them, because they beat back the fear, made her feel strong. She placed one hand on the edge of the grandfather clock, and ran the other down the side of her breast with a mischievous grin growing on her face. “Better?”

Malcolm bobbed his head. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

Hannah eased her hand around the back of the grandfather clock and yanked it forward with every ounce of strength she could muster. The large clock tipped and came down on Malcolm with a satisfying crunch before he could scuttle out of the way. She snatched her phone and the screwdriver from his hands and ran.