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SHELBY

The duct tape around my wrists was rushed and there is a piece of it sticking up that has rolled over on itself, and if I could get my mouth free, I could bite it and pull on it enough to tear part of it away and weaken the hold.

There’s nothing I can do to get the tape off my mouth, though. I tried dragging the edge of it across the bedpost, but all I got was a mark on my face, and it didn’t budge.

“Don’t move or your girls are next” is all that repeats in my mind as I struggle to escape. Not if I can get out of here and get to the police before he can get back to me. I have to try. I see the vodka bottle he left open on the dresser top. I know rubbing alcohol removes the sticky residue on tape, so maybe vodka does too. I lean my head down and knock the bottle over onto my hands, and the liquid chugs out of the bottle onto the tape and I can feel it loosening. It’s enough to shrivel the adhesive and create a couple inch gap, enough so at least my hands aren’t taped hard against the wood. I can reach down and grip the tape over my mouth with my fingertip and pull it off. I inhale deeply, wincing at the pain, and examine my hands. There is some wiggle room, but I can’t pull them out, so I try to bite the piece that’s sticking up with my teeth. I pull hard, and it starts to peel away.

I unravel a couple of layers successfully and the tape is weak enough then for me to bite it again and make a tear in the side, which breaks me loose. Oh my God, I did it. I’m free! My heart feels like it will explode it’s racing so fast, and I have to think quickly. I push open the door and stagger down a small hallway, and I’m in the kitchen. There’s a door, but there is also a blizzard starting outside, and the snow is almost blinding. I need my phone. I need to call for help. I start to look, pulling out every drawer. I look in the mudroom and every nook I can find, wondering where he would keep it. And then I see his coat, hanging by the front door. I rifle through the pockets, and it’s there!

He was wheeled off by the medics so fast he couldn’t hide it better and he couldn’t tie me up securely. He slipped up. That fucker finally made a mistake. Florence threw a wrench in his plans and saved my life. I hope again that she’s okay, safe, after whatever Evan did to her. I grab my phone and I don’t know where my coat or boots are because he put them somewhere when I was unconscious, but I can take his. Before I can move one inch to grab the coat, I hear a car pull up. I look out to see headlights coming up the drive. Oh God. No.

I watch Evan get out of the back seat. It’s a taxi he must have taken from the hospital. I have no choice; I have to run. I race to the other side of the house where there is a back door that leads out to a deck and half an acre of yard butting up against a pine forest. I swing the door open, and I run. Into the impossibly cold, driving snow with no shoes or coat. I push my body against the wind, sobbing with every painful step, and I run until my lungs feel like they’re bleeding.

I try to hold my phone with frozen fingers and I can barely see through the snow beating down on me and my tears, but there is still battery left and so I dial, but I don’t call the police this time.