Darkness

21. The Return

21. The Return

// Spencer//

♦♦♦

It has taken everything in me to escape this hell, yet here I am back of my own free will. The brownstone lurks over me, bathing me in its shadows; welcoming me in and warning me off all at the same time.

If I had been anyone else, I would have been shaking my head in frustration at the girl willingly running back into the lion's den, but I'm not. I have to do this, for the sake of my father's sanity – and mine – but most of all for my mother.

I know what I'm signing up for.

Once I enter, once they find me, I'll be back in the darkness that I fought so hard to escape.

The only difference between then and now is me. I will no longer be the victim, the captive; I will be the survivor, the fighter. After all I will still have my freewill. Even if they never let me back out. I'll find a way to persuade them – find a way to use them, to get what I want.

At least that's what I tell myself, as I cross the street and come to stand in front of the garage gate, the very same one I ran out of only hours ago.

With some sadistic luck, it turns out that the brownstone is more equipped at keeping people locked inside, than keeping anyone from coming in. I find a switch for the garage door hidden behind a half dead bush next to the garage. When I flick it the door glides open with little protest, and I slip inside, before anyone spots me outside.

Inside the garage is almost as I left it. Almost because now Justin's car is parked in the middle of it. I halfway expect him to jump out of it when I step up to it, but it's vacant, the keys still in the ignition.

The gate descends behind me, as I cross the open space to the only other door in the garage. I know where it'll lead me, it's the same one Justin has been pulling me through countless times, the same one I found my escape through.

It opens on its hinges, barely making a sound in the otherwise quiet house. I peek my head inside, checking the hallway.

When I'm certain that the hallway is empty, I step inside, pulling the door to the garage closed behind me, with slow and steady movements, until the soft click of the lock sounds. I pause, listening.

Still nothing, so I move down the hallway, soft steps against the floorboards. I stick to the walls, where the floorboards are less fragile and likely to make creak, as I move along them.

I make it to the bottom of the stairs and carefully position a foot on the first step, testing it for weak spots, before I step up onto it.

The sound of the gun clocking is the only warning I have, before I feel the cold metal of the barrel pushing against the back of my head.

I freeze where I stand, my hands hanging limply against my side, my heart hammering in the back of my throat.

I had hoped that I would have been able to sneak my way in and pretend that I had never left. I should have known that nothing is ever that easy.

"What are you doing here?" he growls, low and threatening in the back of his throat. I can't fight the shudder that runs through me at the sound of his rough voice.

I swallow, trying to rid myself of the lump in the back of my throat, but it doesn't budge.

The floor boards creak as he steps closer. I feel the heat of his body against my back.