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TEGAN

I don’t have my pepper spray. But I have the lighter Jackson gave me.

I’m not exactly sure what to do, but I can’t walk out of here—that much is clear. If I want to get out of here, I’m going to need help to come to me. And while I may not have a weapon, I do have a way to make fire.

I’m sure when Jackson bought me this lighter, he had no idea that it would save my life.

There’s a smoke detector in the corner of the room, not far from the bed. The red light in the detector indicates that it’s functional. So if there’s a fire down here, it will go off.

I have to be very careful though. The last thing I want to do is set the basement on fire and burn myself to a crisp. But if there’s a small fire, the alarms will go off, and Polly will be forced to call 911 for help.

I am admittedly a bit worried it won’t be enough. Polly may feel capable of putting out a fire on her own. But it’s the only chance I’ve got.

First, I need something to burn.

That part is easy. There are plenty of magazines stacked up on the nightstand next to the bed. I pick one of them up and rip out a picture of Jennifer Aniston’s face. Nothing against Jennifer Aniston. I’ve got to burn something though.

My hand is shaking slightly as I press my thumb against the spark wheel and into the ignition button. There’s a little spark but no fire. I try again, and this time, it ignites. A steady orange flame rises from the lighter. This is a very high-quality lighter.

Thank you, Jackson.

Why did you have to turn out to be such a jerk?

I hold out the pages from the magazine and touch the flame to the edge. Almost instantly, they catch fire.

Bingo.

As the flame grows, I hold the papers up in the air and fan them around. I keep my eyes on the smoke detector.

Start ringing.

Please, for the love of God, start ringing.