Chapter 8 - The House of Horrors
The ride home was suffocating,
the air inside Daniel's luxury sedan thick with unspoken threats.
Every time the car went over a bump,
white-hot agony flared across my back,
but I bit my lip,
refusing to give Daniel the satisfaction of hearing me cry.
He hummed a cheerful tune,
tapping his fingers against the steering wheel,
playing the role of the devoted husband bringing his fragile wife back to her sanctuary.
When we pulled into the long,
sweeping driveway of our sprawling suburban estate,
my stomach tied itself into painful,
sickening knots.
The grand oak doors swung open before Daniel even turned off the engine.
Vivian stood on the porch,
wearing a pristine floral dress,
her hands clasped elegantly in front of her.
She looked like the perfect,
loving mother-in-law,
a picture-perfect lie ready for the neighborhood to see.
Daniel rushed around to open my door,
offering me his arm with an exaggerated display of chivalry.
I took it,
leaning heavily against him,
playing the weak,
broken bird they wanted me to be.
"Welcome home, Elena,"
Vivian chirped,
her voice dripping with synthetic sweetness.
As I limped up the stone steps,
she leaned in closer,
her lips brushing against my ear.
"I scrubbed the kitchen floor for you,"
she whispered,
so quietly that Daniel couldn't hear.
"I wouldn't want you to slip again,
you clumsy little fool."
A cold sweat broke out across my forehead,
but I forced a blank,
empty expression onto my face.
"Thank you, Vivian,"
I replied monotonously,
stepping into the grand foyer.
Daniel guided me past our master bedroom,
leading me down the hallway toward the small,
isolated guest room at the back of the house.
"We thought you would be more comfortable here,
Elena,"
Daniel explained smoothly,
not meeting my eyes.
"The bed in our room is too high,
and this way,
I won't disturb your rest when I wake up early for work."
It was another bar in the cage,
another step to isolate me,
to keep me away from his phone,
his documents,
his life.
"This is perfect,"
I said,
lowering myself onto the stiff mattress,
hiding the burner phone deep inside my pocket.
"I just want to rest."
Vivian stood in the doorway,
holding a tray with a single glass of water and a white pill.
"Take your medication, dear,"
she commanded,
her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
"We need you sleeping soundly tonight."
I took the pill,
placing it on my tongue,
and took a large gulp of water.
She watched my throat swallow,
smiling with grim satisfaction before turning off the lights and locking the door from the outside.
As soon as the lock clicked,
I spat the pill into my hand,
crushing it beneath my heel.
I wouldn't sleep,
I wouldn't be vulnerable in this house of horrors.
I pulled out the burner phone,
May you like
the screen glowing in the pitch-black room,
and waited for Marcus to make his next move.
