Page 56 of Pastel Kisses

Not just that—there are people. People everywhere. Kids laugh in the distance. A sprinkler clicks in rhythm across the street. Neighbors chat beside trimmed hedges. It’s a sprawling, upper-class neighborhood—one of those perfect little suburbs with pristine sidewalks, manicured lawns, and matching mailboxes.

And every single one of them has been completely unaware that their polite neighbor has been keeping a kidnapped, pregnant woman locked in her basement.

A scream tears out of my throat, raw and cracked. “Help! Please—help me!”

A man across the street jolts like he’s been hit with a taser. He drops his hose, mouth gaping as he takes in my soaked shirt, bare legs, bruised face, and swollen stomach. His expression shifts from confusion to horror in a matter of seconds.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, eyes wide. “Are you okay?” His hands hover in the air like he’s unsure whether to reach for me or not. “Come inside—I’ll call someone. The police. You need help.” He’s already fumbling for his phone, punching numbers with trembling fingers.

“No!” I shout, staggering backward. The last thing I need is to get locked inside another house. “Please, not inside.”

He freezes, nods like he understands, and turns the phone on speaker. “Yeah, uh—this is an emergency. A pregnant woman just ran out of my neighbor’s house. She’s... she’s terrified. Wet. Barefoot. She said someone was keeping her there.”

His voice fades as I crouch in the yard, trying to breathe. Tears blur my vision as I wrap my arms around my belly. I can’t cry. Not yet. I don’t get to break down until I know this is real.

The man’s voice cuts back in. “They’re on their way. Stay with me, okay?”

I let out a rough grunt of agreement, my mind still struggling to catch up with the reality that I’m outside… that I’m actually free.

He crouches beside me, not too close, and keeps the line open as I recount everything I can through trembling lips and foggy thoughts. I tell the dispatcher there’s a woman inside—Sarah. That she’s still alive, unconscious but dangerous. That she has a history of violence and delusions, and that she’s been holding me captive for months.

He listens, repeating what I say into the phone. He’s young, probably close to my age, and I see the disbelief warring with his sense of urgency. But he stays calm—stays with me.

Sirens wail in the distance, growing louder with every heartbeat. My heart gallops like a wild horse, caught between terror and overwhelming relief.

The first cruiser rounds the corner like a silver bullet, lights blazing. Two more follow, then an ambulance.

“They’re here,” the man says, and hangs up.

Everything happens fast after that.

Officers swarm the house. EMTs gently lift me onto a stretcher as I try not to scream from the pain. I see hands, faces, badges—all blurred together as they speak over one another, asking questions I can’t answer fast enough.

One of the medics checks my ankle, the bruises, the swelling, my face. Another peeks under my shirt at my stomach, frowning, his mouth moving in rapid-fire communication with his partner.

I’m silent.

I say nothing, not until I see the glint of silver in the EMT’s hand. A needle.

“No!” I flinch, panic bursting through my chest like a shot of ice water. I slap his hand, knocking the needle away. “Please. No needles!”

The medic backs off immediately, hands raised in surrender. “Okay, okay,” he says calmly. “You’re safe now, Avery. No needles. I promise. We’re just here to help.”

I don’t relax. Not yet. Not until I’m sure this isn’t another trick.

I shift uncomfortably on the gurney as they wheel me into the back of the ambulance, eyes darting to every corner like Sarah might leap from the shadows. The doors shut. We lurch forward, sirens blaring again.

The medic picks up the fallen needle and places it into a drawer before sitting beside me. “You’re doing great. We’ll get you to the hospital. No more harm will come to you.”

I’m still silent. Still tense. Only the sound of the siren lulls me into a false sense of calm. Minutes later, we skid to a stop and the doors burst open.

There’s a blur of movement, flashes of blue scrubs and sterile white walls as I’m rolled into the emergency room.

Doctors shout commands. Nurses descend like a storm.

One older woman with a gentle face leans close. “Avery? Avery, honey, look at me.”

My gaze drifts to her, too heavy to focus. Voices fill the air. Someone says the baby is stable. Someone else mentions vitals. The chaos is overwhelming, spinning like a tornado around me.

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