Page 67 of Her Final Hours
Ethan shrugged with tears in his eyes. Noah dropped his bag and hugged him just as Gretchen joined them. Seeing his son’s reaction fueled his fire to bring Mia back alive.
23
Thursday, March 22, 7:20 a.m.
It was a hellish nightmare. Mia jolted awake, her heart pounding as she became aware of her surroundings. The first thing she felt was her head, it was throbbing hard, and there was a nauseating sensation in her throat that signaled the effects of whatever had been used to render her unconscious.
Blinking against the dim fluorescent lighting that hurt her sensitive eyes, she realized she was trapped in an unfinished basement, its walls made of cold cement blocks.
The flickering of one of the lights only added to her discomfort.
Confusion and fear flooded her mind as she tried to piece together what had happened. She remembered being forcefully taken and thrown into a van against her will. She briefly remembered hearing her fathers voice and responding but maybe that was a dream? Who could have taken her? Was this some twistedprank? A thought crossed her mind, briefly, questioning whether her boyfriend could have been involved. But she quickly dismissed it, refusing to believe he would ever betray her like this.
This had to be a sick act of vengeance against her or her family. Or perhaps she had become another statistic, another missing girl who would fade away, forgotten by the world.
No. That wasn’t happening. Not to her. Not like this.
As Mia scanned her surroundings, she noticed the windows were covered in thick black paint, denying her any glimpse of the outside world. The gloomy atmosphere closed in on her, accentuated by the presence of the dirty mattress upon which she found herself.
She glanced down, feeling the restraint. Her leg was handcuffed to a chain, which in turn was wrapped tightly around a nearby pole. A piss pot, and a sandwich on a plate were within reach, all indicating the harsh reality of her captivity.
Desperation set in, panic driving her chest up and down.Okay. Okay. Remain calm. What did Dad tell you?He’d told her to be mindful of her surroundings and that in the event of an abduction, she should soak in everything and search for a way out.
Mia tugged on the chain, causing it to rattle, but the tight cuff prevented any chance of escape. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she spotted a furnace in the corner of the room, emanating a flickering glow. Rusty pipes snaked away into the darkness and disappeared through the floorboards. A washing machine and dryer stood nearby, silent witnesses to the horrors unfolding.
In addition to this, her eyes fell upon a workbench situated against one of the basement walls. Tools hung neatly on hooks, displaying an array of possibilities for both creation and destruction.
She could make out wrenches, screwdrivers in various sizes, a pair of pliers, and a hammer among the many tools. Their metallic gleam caught the faint light, hinting at their potential usefulness or malevolence, depending on who was wielding them. She couldn’t help but wonder if any of these tools could aid in her escape or be turned into a weapon for self-defense.
She squinted, noticing a collection of rusty nails, screws, and bolts in jars, suggesting the basement had been a place of practicality and handiwork. Small metal parts, springs, and gears were scattered across the workbench, remnants of past projects and repairs. A frayed measuring tape and a tattered manual were also present, hinting at the meticulous nature of the person who had taken her.
However, her attention was diverted to something else that caught her eye: a weathered leather-bound journal on a chair in the middle of the room.
Whose was it? What was inside?
It didn’t matter; all that mattered was escaping.
Suddenly, her attention was drawn to stairs that led up to a closed door. Hope flickered within her as she realized there might be a way out, but it was quickly replaced by trepidation. She couldn’t trust what awaited her on the other side. However, her determination pushed her forward and showed her how far she could stretch. The cuff bit into her ankle, and she cried out in pain.
Turning, she reached for the chair, knocking it with the tip of her finger, trying to shift it toward her. She felt the metal teeth biting her skin each time she extended herself. Finally, she knocked over the chair, and the journal landed near her.
She scooped it up and opened the worn and yellowed pages, each telling the tale of countless thoughts, plans, and the despair of those who had been confined within these walls before her. As she scurried back to the mattress, her elbow brushed against the roughconcrete wall. It was then she noticed faint etchings upon it. Names. Under the feeble light, they were difficult to discern, but soon enough, one caught her eye — Payton Scott. It was a name she had heard her mother mention before, a name that held significance to her father’s past and the reason he had become a police officer.
A shiver ran down her spine as she saw another name, then another, and another. It was a list, a memorial to those who had been there before her in that place. They had shared the same fate, and now they were gone, leaving only their names etched into the stone-like prison behind.
Overwhelmed by fear and despair, Mia cried out, her voice echoing through the basement. “Hello! Hello! Can anyone hear me?” she pleaded, hoping against hope that someone would come to her rescue. But all she received in response was the scuttling sound of an unknown presence moving across the floor, causing her to pull her feet back and curl into herself, tears streaming down her face.
Then, the door at the top of the stairs creaked open, revealing a figure hidden by the shadows. The darkness obscured their features, leaving Mia trembling with uncertainty and dread, unsure of what awaited her next.
Tommy satbehind the wheel of his truck, feeling pleased with himself.
The increased power outages sweeping the east coast due to the storm presented the perfect opportunity. He couldn’t have timed it better himself — snowed in, closed off from help. No one would be coming to her aid. The media had all but announced that everyone was on their own, riding out the storm for at least three days.
Three days.
Oh, what he could do in that time.
There was a good chance he wouldn’t even have to use a cell phone blocker. Tommy was still basking in the glow of having already broken into Maddie’s home and gotten away with it. Sure, her punk brother thought he would swoop in and throw a wrench in his plans, but he was too bright for him. What an asshole to believe he could follow him, and Tommy wouldn’t notice.
