Page 70 of The Vanishing Place

The thought of trying to stand brought a new heaviness to Effie’s limbs.

She sat on the floor, unmoved since Adam had left with the girl, and stared at the door. For a while, feet moved and chairs scraped on the other side of the wall. Voices filtered through—a child’s laugh and a male chuckle—but eventually, the front door slammed shut and the hut went quiet.

And Effie was alone.

Thirst crept through her, coating her tongue and mouth. Groaning, she stretched out and reached for the overturned jug.

The chain clattered along the floor as she inched herself forward.

She just needed a sip. Just a few remaining drips, anything to purge the thirst from the insides of her cheeks.

Effie held the jug to her lips and tipped it upside down.

Trickles of water dripped onto her face and neck, and she opened her mouth, licking at the plastic.

“Ouch.”

Effie flinched as something hard hit her front tooth. She looked down to where a small item had fallen to the floor.

A key.

Effie inhaled as the realization hit her. Anya . Anya had left the key in the jug. Effie’s fingers trembled as she grabbed for it, then she pulled the padlock around her ankle. The key shook as she tried to fit it into the small hole.

Breathe, Effie .

Her hands steadier, the key glided in and the padlock clicked open.

“Oh god.” Effie pressed a hand across her mouth. “Thank you,” she sobbed. “Thank you, Anya.” She let out a breath of laughter. “Thank you. You wonderful, brilliant little girl.”

Anya had given Effie a key and twenty-four hours. To reflect . To pull herself together and get them both out.