Page 5 of Save Me

He walks towards the bedroom door, his shoes tapping on the wood floor, before pausing and looking back at me.

“And babe, you’re all out of second chances. So don’t even think about trying to fuck me over again.”

CHAPTER 3

‡

The door shutsbehind Rhett and I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. My hands shake in my lap in the aftermath of our encounter.

This is not real. It cannot be real.

I close my eyes and try to take a deep breath but it remains shallow, and I can’t decide if it’s the pain of my ribs expanding or the fear surging in my chest that’s making breathing difficult.

As I open my eyes my body begins to tremble, as if the anxiety coursing through my veins refuses to be calmed. I hold onto my knees even tighter, wincing as my arms rest on broken skin, some gravel from the parking lot still lodged in the cuts. I try to ignore the pain, ignore my heart palpitating in my chest, as I take in the room before me—a sea of neutral colors with the occasional blue accent. I shift tentatively towards the edge of the bed, needing to figure out where I am and how to get out of here. I stand up, the wooden floor cold against my bare feet, and walk slowly towards the window. I reach for the sheer curtains, the material soft in my hands, and pull them back slowly. Raindrops hit the outside of the glass and whatever I was expecting, wherever I thought I might be, it was not this. I unlatch the window and surprise flutters through me when it opens easily.

The only thing I can hear is the sound of water splashing as the smell of fresh rain invades my senses. Goosebumps cover my arms as cold rain hits my skin. It takes me a minute to make sense of what I’m seeing: I’m surrounded by water.

What the fuck?I think to myself as I turn around and walk to the bedroom door. I grip the metal handle, half expecting it to be locked, and freeze when it turns easily. I pause for a moment, listening for any sign of Rhett or one of his friends, but am greeted with silence and the faint sound of water lapping against rocks. I open the door slowly and peek out of the room, only to find an immaculately decorated—and empty—living space before me. White couches with blue pillows sit on top of an area rug while an oversized TV hangs on one of the walls, the others decorated with various paintings of boats and seabirds. The glass coffee table has a couple of thick home décor books sitting on it.

I walk out of the bedroom slowly and straight into the open-concept living area, my heart rate increasing as I explore this unknown territory. I look around, taking in my surroundings, noting the small kitchen to my left and the living area to my right. I move to the other side of the kitchen and open a door, expecting to find another bedroom, but am surprised to see an empty pantry instead. This place doesn’t look anything like what I’d expect from Rhett—it’s missing the expansive floor plan, gaudy décor, and lofted ceilings.

I brush the thoughts aside as I walk towards the front door, hoping the handle will give way just like the bedroom one did, and for a split second, my heart stops as the handle starts to move under my touch. I pull slowly, but the little flicker of hope within me is extinguished quickly as the door refuses to budge. I swear under my breath, unsure of how he managed to lock me in here, my tugs becoming more desperate as I realize I am truly trapped. I try to keep the panic at bay, try not to give into my fear as my head starts to spin, needing to get as far away from here as possible. As far from him as possible.

I look outside the window beside the door and through the rain I see a set of wooden stairs leading to the rocky groundbelow. My hands shake as I undo the latch. I’m met with a blast of cold air as the window opens, and I stick my head out of it, leaning as far towards the staircase as I can without falling to the ground below. I try to reach for the wooden railing in front of me, hoping I can climb over it and walk down the stairs, but I’m left grasping at air as rain pelts my skin. For a split second I contemplate trying to jump, but as I look down at the ground below my ears start ringing, and even in my panicked state I pause to wonder if I’d survive the jump with nothing but jagged rocks to break my fall. A pit of despair starts to weigh heavily in my stomach as I realize there’s no way I’d be able to jump from this high up.

I step away from the window slowly, shutting it to keep the chill out, and walk back to the bedroom quickly. I can’t stop shaking, both from the chill of the cold rain drying on my skin and the panic surging within me. I need to get out of here, need to find a way to escape. I rush back to the bedroom window leaning out as far as I dare, trying to assess everything around me.

A boathouse. I must be in an apartment above a boathouse. That’s the only place I can think of that would look like this, high above the water and attached to land on one side only. I try to think of where I could be; I’m at least an hour out of the city, but who knows which of the several lakes I’m on.

I look outside again, hoping to find some sort of marker that could give me a clue as to where I am, but nothing distinguishes this lake from any other I’ve been to. From this height I can’t make out the depth of the water; whether it would break my fall or kill me if I jumped is a game of Russian roulette I’m not eager to play. I sigh in frustration, closing the window before walking back out past the living area and into the small kitchen, opening the cupboards at random, each as empty as the last.

I start to pace the room, walking back and forth, trying to make sense of everything I know so far.

Think, Evi, think.

As hard as I try to think of a plan, to come up with some way to escape, I can’t. My brain is unable to process what to do next.

My back slides against the white wall as I sink to the floor in defeat, struggling to breathe as my chest tightens, anxiety surging within me. I try to shake it off, try to keep the feeling of panic at bay, but it’s slowly gaining the upper hand, my body and mind too exhausted to hold it back any longer. I swallow the lump in my throat, hoping to drown the feelings that threaten to overwhelm me, but it doesn’t work, and instead of finding some sense of calm, all I feel is scared as my eyes fill with tears.

The floor is hard and cold beneath me, and I let the tears fall freely, trying to focus on my breathing that feels too fast and yet entirely too slow. I can’t piece together my thoughts when I feel as though I’m freefalling into an abyss, unsure of what will meet me at the bottom.

What would Jax tell me to do?

The click of a lock startles me, and the front door swings open. I instinctively press myself against the wall, wishing I could be invisible.

A gust of cold wind follows someone I don’t recognize as he walks through the door. My heart rate increases as I assess the stranger entering the room. His dark brown hair almost brushes the top of the doorway as he walks through it, making him easily over six feet tall. He kicks off brown shoes before walking into the living space and, for a split second, I can feel the adrenaline start to spike within me, but it’s as if I’m frozen in place, my body and brain too unsure of what to do.

“I thought you might be hungry,” the guy says as he walks over, gesturing to the brown paper bag in his hands. He’s even taller up close and I can see his muscles underneath the lightjacket he’s wearing. While his frame doesn’t quite match Jax’s in terms of sheer size, the room still feels a lot smaller with him in it.

He walks past me and into the kitchen, and I watch him from afar as he places the bag on the countertop and begins to unpack it.

“I just got a few things to tide you over until, well…” He looks at me, and I swear I see a flicker of remorse in his eyes before he quickly looks away. “Until Rhett takes you home.”

I wipe my clammy hands against my bare legs and my stomach rolls with unease in the presence of someone clearly working with Rhett. I pull at the hem of my dress, wishing it did more to cover my skin, but the fabric—now dirty from the gravel—is sparse to begin with. My heart beats uncontrollably as I try to muster any semblance of courage, trying to show a brave face despite feeling nothing but dread in the pit of my stomach.

“When will that be?” I ask meekly.

“Whenever Rhett gets his money back,” he says simply.

---