like a package and I would take it with wet eyes and a sniffle, he had another think coming.
I would find a way out of these rooms. I had literally all the time in the world—or Hell—to figure out how to slip out, and once I did, I would make it my newly eternal life’s mission to be an unrelenting pain in my reluctant husband’s ass. I would not be shoved aside and ignored. This was my life now, and while I never wanted this marriage, I would make sure the man—or demon, as it may be—who was my supposed life partner would give me the minimum of attention I deserved.
Anything was better than being neglected and forgotten like a gift you didn’t appreciate but couldn’t throw out.
But first—rest.
It wouldn’t do to start plotting my escape in my current state. I needed to be sharp, and right now, I felt like that one time I’d gone on a study marathon the night before an important exam because I’d procrastinated for weeks and had to cram a semester’s worth of learning into eight hours.
I’d made it and gotten an A, but I felt like roadkill afterwards. The kind that had marinated in the desert sun for a few days.
The events of tonight held enough excitement for an entire year, and I hadn’t had a minute to catch my breath and relax. My eyes hurt, my lungs were parched, and my limbs dragged as if weighted down with lead.
I shuffled over to the bedroom, into the adjacent bathroom—which indeed featured a toilet, hallelujah—and rummaged around in the vanity. I found a set of toiletries, much to my surprise, and did the bare minimum of getting ready for bed.
As soon as I hit the mattress, the torches simmered down to a faint glow. Neat. Eyes heavy, I shimmied deeper into the pillows and blankets, sleep beckoning with a velvet touch.
Tomorrow, I’d start my prison break.
Chapter 4
I slept like the dead. When I finally woke up, it was with an overwhelming sense of confusion and foreboding, like a slimy knot of sludge wedged in the pit of my stomach.
Gasping, I sat up, squinted into the semi-darkness. My brain was still half-tangled in the strange, immersive, and desolate dream I’d had, the pictures and feelings lingering and mingling with the reality that greeted me.
I’m in Hell, and my demon husband just locked me away like some bothersome pet.
Oh, yeah, that.
The anger simmering on low flamed up again, infusing me with the energy to swing my legs over the edge of the mattress and hop out of bed. Time to get cracking.
I had no idea how long I’d slept, what time it was—did they even keep time down here?—but I felt rested despite the vague sensation of dread ticking underneath my skin. I’d dumped my bag on one of the armchairs in the bedroom the night before, and now I pulled out my phone.
12:16 pm.
At least in Pacific Time. Back in San Francisco, it was noon now, and I should have shown up to work hours ago. My boss had undoubtedly called me, and my mom...should have read my message by now.
I unlocked the phone and checked my calls and messages. Nothing.
Because the little bar at the top said, No service.
Of course not. Would have been too much to hope for this thing to work down here. At least it was on and hadn’t blown up in an explosion of sparks. Yet.
The battery showed 54%. I swallowed. How long until it gave out? My finger hovered over the Photos app. I had hundreds of pictures in there, among them a few of my mom, several of me and Tay, a handful of other friends. Some videos too. These pics and recordings were the only link I had left to my old life, to the people I cared about and had to leave behind.
I could look at them now, swipe through them in an effort to make sure I remembered all the little details of their faces, remembered the moments when the photos were taken. Because at some point, I realized with a broken breath, I’d forget.
If it was true that I could visit Earth and see them again, this wouldn’t happen that soon. But it depended on whether I was actually allowed to visit, and how often. In light of Demon Douche’s insistence I stay in these rooms, and his menacing parting words, I had the sinking feeling his statement of “You can visit” had been