Page 80 of UnScripted

It’s dead.

Talking to Jeff last night took what juice was left and I never hooked it up to the charger.

Shit.

I was too depressed to grocery shop so it’s not like much food will go bad until the power comes on.

Trudging to the bathroom, I strip quickly hoping there’s enough warm water left in the tank to give me two minutes to wash the sleep from my eyes.

“Ugh, what I wouldn’t give for a mug of hot coffee and my Kindle,” I groan wondering what I’m going to do with myself stuck inside all day.

“What the fuck?” I scream hearing the crash of glass coming from somewhere close. Grabbing my towel, I wrap it around myself running out of the bathroom half-expecting to see the tree crashed through the window.

“Hello sweetheart. Miss me? You and I have unfinished business,” he says with satisfaction, watching me slowly inching back. He creeps closer, brushing shards of glass from his skin. A thousand pricks of blood coat his face and arms from where he crashed through my front window next to the door.

If I can stall him, maybe he won’t realize I’m only three steps from being able to lock myself in my bedroom.

“W-what do you mean? I’ve got nothing to do with the club or anyone in it.”

He smiles faintly, “Always lyin’. Why do they all continue to lie all the way till the end? That’s right sugar, I’m gonna be the last face you see as I squeeze the breath right outta ya’. But don’t worry, I’m also gonna be the last man to ever see that sweet body you’re so carefully trying to cover with that towel.”

Screaming, I run, barely shutting the door before he’s there. I bolt it. Thank God, Rog has bolts on his rental doors instead of the regular locks. But I know I don’t have much time. If he went through my window, I know his heavy boots will kick my door open. All it did was buy me some time.

I slide my dresser across the door and move the bed away from the window to anchor my barricade.

Dropping my towel, I only have time to put on a T-Shirt.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

The wood door starts to splinter from his kicks.

There’s only one thing left to do.

I need to save myself.

High on fear and adrenalin, a million thoughts race through my head.

Why didn’t I call my mother more?

Why did I waste so many years on Jeff?

God, I hope Luce finds my vibrator before anyone else does if I don’t make it through this.

My keys, purse, shoes—everything is on the other side of that door. Knowing there’s only one way out of this room alive, I open my window, crouching through and step out into the pouring rain.

Barefoot, I carefully make my way across the roof, hands holding onto the gutters. Being on the middle floor, if I’m lucky—I can make it to the side of the building and jump down on the roof of the first-floor deck, shimmy down the railing and make it to the ground before that creep figures out my plan.

The wind and rain are so strong, I almost lose my balance and fall, breaking my own neck. But I’d rather die that way then be abused and tortured by the sick fuck breaking into my bedroom.

“Almost there, Dev. You can do this,” I whisper not even hearing my own words as the wind rips them away and carries them up into the storm.

More thunder booms over head followed by the hiss and crack of lightening striking something close by.

Foot by foot, step by step, I make it to the corner of the roof, crouching low, I spring like a stunt double in an action film and land perfectly on the roof above the small covered porch that runs along the side of the first floor.

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