Page 113 of The Sound Of Us

By some miracle, I get out of the house, shoving the door shut and locking it from the outside. It won’t make a difference because he has the keys to the back door, but at least he won’t be able to come straight through the front.

Chapter 59

Axel

Maybe some people leave their husbands with a well-packed bag, a goodbye to their neighbors and their dignity intact.

I leave with tears streaming down my face, a loaded gun dangling from my hand and fear chasing me down me like a ghoulish, living nightmare.

Mrs. Dalton’s house is quiet and the curtains are drawn shut.

I don’t have the stamina to run all the way to the bookstore. Frank will catch me and I can’t risk hiding in the woods, so I run toward Eli’s place.

Pepper is already ahead of me, sprinting down the bend. She stops now and then to urge me forward, but I’m slowing myself down by constantly looking back for Frank.

Pepper barks.

I practically slide down the path with the momentum of my speed, flying to the backdoor where my key will fit.

Pepper flies into the house. I follow her in and lock the door.

Eli’s security since his upgrades to this place is impeccable, but after laying the gun down carefully on Eli’s counter, I still race through the house, making sure every window is shut and every curtain is drawn closed.

Then, I search for any form of technology to connect with the outside world. Eli’s dresser, the kitchen cupboards, nightstand drawers produce nothing.

The lights start to flicker as I race through each room. The simultaneous ringing of the doorbell turns my legs to lead.

I drop to the floor right there in the hallway. Pepper sinks between my legs with her paws on my ankle.

The ringing won’t stop. I squeeze my eyes shut and clamp my hands over my ears.

Frank’s voice booms through the concrete walls and lands in the pit of my stomach. Nausea rises in my chest and my body goose bumps from the back of my thighs to my scalp.

Go away, I scream internally. Just get the fuck away from me.

Everything Mrs. Dalton had said was true. Frank is a narcissist. He never takes responsibility for anything, always blames me for everything, even when it’s not my fault. He’s controlling and cruel.

Frank bangs on the door and his finger remains on the doorbell. The lights flicker like a horror movie and I play the part of a paralyzed victim to the letter.

The gun.

If he breaks through the door, he’d be closer to the gun than me. With tears streaming down my face, shameful and humiliating, I slide on my ass, inch my inch, down the hallway toward the kitchen. My faithful, unjudging dog follows me, low and quiet.

I can’t believe this is my life.

The banging stops as I reach for the gun. The absence of the noise is as terrifying as the banging. What if he found another way in?

Gripping the gun in my hand, I crawl under the island, doing my best to breathe slow and deep. Pepper never leaves me. Her body remains pressed to mine. The weight of her body against mine calms me. The silky feel of her fur gives me some comfort.

I don’t know how long I sit there, waiting for the next bang or the next flicker of the light.

There’s nothing for a long time. The time on the microwave says ten minutes have passed. But I still sit there, convinced he’s found another way into the house and is creeping through it, looking for me.

Twenty minutes. Pepper licks my hand. She must be hungry.

Thirty minutes.

My legs are numb. My tears have dried up.

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