Chapter Four
I touch the end of the wire, shivering and lightheaded. Blood is dripping onto the concrete and I can hear footsteps upstairs. It has been hours, and I have a gut feeling that Damien is getting ready for work.
I tear at the sleeve of my shirt until it gives way, and then I tie it around my forehead tightly.
One end of the wire is needle sharp now, so I remove the wire from the other breast and begin to file it.
I work on it for hours. I hear footsteps throughout the day, but later on while I'm still filing, I hear more footsteps, and then forever later, the house is silent.
With two needle sharp edges, I creep up the stairs and sit in silence at the top step, listening for any sound.
I have no idea how long I sit there, but it's well over an hour, because I counted to three thousand, six hundred.
If I am going to escape, I need to do it while they are both at home.
If Damien is gone, Sabrina is awake, and there is no way to know for sure who is home during the day.
I am convinced it is night though, because I haven't heard any movement for over an hour.
Deciding the coast is clear, I kneel in front of the basement door and work the lock. After reading the book on lock picking, I locked my bedroom door and opened the lock with a bobby pin and my screw driver.
I work on the lock, reminding myself it is all about the tumblers.
After what feels like an hour, the lock clicks, and my heart begins to hammer in my chest.
I sit there for three hundred seconds, listening to silence, and then I creep down the stairs.
I put my wireless bra back on, and I shut off the basement light.
I don't want them to wake up from the light flooding the hallway. It is not worth the risk.
I walk in the direction of the stairs until my foot hits the bottom step.
Slowly, I climb the steps, and then I tuck the wires in my bra, and I slip out into the hallway.
I feel around the wall until I find the kitchen, and I silently turn on the light for the ice machine.
My mind and stomach are screaming at me to swipe some bread, but the wrapper is going to be too loud. It's too dangerous.
I shove the ties around my head over my shoulder, and I open the junk drawer.
I find my screwdriver, along with a longer phillips head screwdriver. This one would easily be able to unscrew an outlet.
Here goes nothing.
Since I understand bomb wires, I can certainly disarm a home alarm without raising any eyebrows. Chances are, Damien won't notice anything until he leaves for work and it does not beep.
I find a pair of scissors from the junk drawer, along with a photograph of Damien and Sabrina and grab both of them, and take the phillips head screwdriver and the scissors. I put my tiny screwdriver back.
I get the flashlight from under the sink and walk silently over to the alarm system.
The alarm reads, "occupied, armed. 1:14AM, Tuesday"
I unscrew the panel it is connected to and gently tug it. Sweat drips down my back as I silently click the flashlight on, looking at the wires
There has to be, like, twenty wires here.
Green and yellow are always safe. Red and white are likely to set the alarm off.
Anxious, I study the alarm wires, holding the flashlight with my mouth.
Do not be careless, Savannah. One false move and he really will kill you.
I put all the green wires together with all of the yellow ones, and then I take the scissors, position them, close my left eye, and cut.
The alarm doesn't make a sound, and I open my good eye and look down.
Disarmed. 1:26AM, Tuesday
My eyes fill with tears of excitement, I wipe them away, wincing at the pain in my face, and then carefully put the panel back, fastening the screws back in place.
Every single piece of my mind is telling me to run, but being loud while I escape is a bad idea because his truck is much faster than I am, especially since I haven't ran in years and I am injured.
I go put the screwdriver and the scissors back, and then I slip down the hall again.
I recall somebody jiggling the basement doorknob this morning to ensure it was still locked, so I lock it again.
I put the flashlight back, and then tread silently down the hallway.
I walk to the front door and carefully turn the deadbolt.
My heart is pounding so strongly as I turn the knob and open the door.
The alarm stays silent.
I look at the tree across the street as I slip outside and silently shut the door behind me.
My step off of the porch onto the sidewalk. It's really cold out here, but I ditch the sidewalk and step into the grass.
I haven't felt grass in so long but the fear of Damien or Sabrina finding out I'm gone is greater than my desire to sniff the earth.
I pad calmly out of the yard, and once I am out of sight from the house, I break out into a sprint, which turns into a full blown run in the direction that Damien and Sabrina take every morning.
I run hard, my ribs begging me to stop. The cold air makes my good eye sting, but I don't stop. I run, and run, and run.
I reach a stop light, but no cars are stopped at it.
I keep running, remembering that the police station is on second street. Streets run north and south, but avenues run east and west.
I look for the north star, and then begin checking every street in that direction.
My body aches and I feel so dizzy.
My eyes land on a gas station, and I run across the street, pushing open the door.
A man sits behind the counter chewing on something, possibly dip.
His eyes widen when I walk in.
"Whoa."
I clutch my bad rib.
"Call the police." I rasp. "The police. I need you to call them. Hurry. I need you to call them. Please."
"Okay." He grabs the phone, dialing three numbers.
After a moment, he clears his throat.
"Uh, yeah, I work at the BP on 904 Cardinal Avenue and this kid just walked in covered in blood asking for the police. Um, sure." He pulls the phone from his ear. "You feel up to talking?" he holds it out to me.
I shakily take the phone and hold it up to my ear.
"Yes?"
"Hi sweetheart, how old are you?"
"Um, I'll be seventeen next month." I murmur.
"Right, what is your name?"
"It's Savannah." I say. "Savannah Noel."
"Okay Savannah, what happened to you?"
"Can you just come now? He might be coming after me." I lean against the counter, and I feel sick.
"I sent help, okay? How about I stay on the phone with you until they arrive."
"Okay."
"Sweetheart, what happened to you?"
"I was kidnapped," I whisper, my hands trembling. "I want to go home."
"I know." She says. "You will, I promise. Do you know what the address is of the people who kidnapped you?"
"Yes." I say.
"Okay, that's great. What is it?"
"I will tell you when the police get here."
"Savannah, where are you from?"
"Hawaii." I mumble.
"And how old were you when you got taken?"
"Eleven."
"Eleven?" she repeats.
"Yes."
The sound of the sirens is getting louder, and I look around wildly, and then I duck behind the counter.
If Damien is coming, he is going to come towards the sirens.
My head is spinning and the man is standing there awkwardly looking down at me.
"Savannah, are you hurt?"
"I uh, yes. I have a black eye and it's swollen shut. It just needs some ice. I have a deep gash on my forehead that has been bleeding for two days, and it needs stiches. I think I have a bruised rib, and I have a busted lip. It's nothing serious. Take me to the emergency room, okay? Get me stitches and some medicine for my ribs and put me on a plane home."
"Savannah, is help outside?"
I peek over the edge of the counter and see three police cars out there, with officers coming toward the door.
"Yes."
"Okay, I will go now, okay? You will get home soon."
I hand the phone to the clerk and he hangs up, and then six officers come into the shop.
"Where is she?" one of them asks.
I peek over the counter and feel six sets of eyes on me.
They all look at me and my hands tremble.
"Savannah, it's going to be okay." One of them wraps a blanket around my shoulders. "Come on, let's get you to the hospital."
_________
A few of you were sad about the cliffhanger so I decided to post the next chapter too lol
~Sam