see that none of the appliance lights are illuminated. All the shades have been drawn.
Whoever is behind me removes their hand and I take the opportunity to try to figure out what’s happening.
“Saint?” My voice is trembling as a sob rips through me. Two arms are wrapped around me now, holding my arms in place. “Saint, please.” I attempt to turn my head to look at him, but whoever is doing this to me pushes my face forward with force. His hand remains on my jaw as he brings his mouth to my ear.
“Don’t. Fucking. Move.”
I’m placed down hard into a chair. I can’t even tell if that was Saint’s voice, which makes me even more terrified. I try to jump up out of the chair, but I’m not fast enough. Hands are around my wrists.
Tape is placed over my mouth.
My arms are pulled behind me, and not gently. A pain sears through my arm and shoulder. I cry out, but the tape muffles any noises I try to make as my hands are tied around the back of the chair.
The rope is digging into my wrists so hard, I can feel my skin burning.
I get a couple of good kicks in before he can secure my feet long enough to tie them to the chair. Tears spill out of my eyes the longer this goes on and the less control I have.
This is actually happening.
There’s no way Saint would let this game go this far. I am in actual pain.
For the first time since waking up just minutes ago, I feel like my life is in danger.
My body grows still and I try to stop the tears, because whoever he is, he’s no longer restraining me. I need to calm down so I can think of how to get out of this. The rope and the knots are enough restraint to render me useless. I’m tied so tight to the chair, I can’t even move my hands or feet without the rope digging into my skin.
I hear things crashing behind me. I don’t know what he’s doing. I hear drawers slamming and I pray he isn’t looking for a knife.
After several minutes of trying to listen to the noises he’s making so I can anticipate what move he’s about to make next—the front door opens.
It doesn’t close.
I can feel the outside breeze making its way into the house behind me.
I hear nothing but small gusts of wind and my own quiet hysterics for several minutes.
I squeeze my eyes shut and I pray. I haven’t been to church in a long, long time, but I pray enough to make up for all the services I’ve missed. I pray that he’s gone and that he isn’t coming back. I pray that I’m able to free myself.
I pray that I’ll survive this.
I pray for what seems like hours, but I’m sure has only been a fraction of an hour. I start to wiggle my wrists to see if there’s any way I can free myself when I hear footsteps returning. My heart rate, which just recently started to calm down, immediately picks up again.
“Megan?”
I open my eyes at the sound of Saint’s voice. There was concern in the way he said my name. I hear the front door swing open even further and Saint is immediately by my side. He sees that I’m tied up, so he rushes to a drawer for a knife. He comes back and rips through the rope, and just the sight of him here has me crying harder than I was when I was being dragged through the house.
There’s no reason he would show up here at this time of night. None at all.
He did this.
When my hands are untied, Saint starts working on the rope around my feet. I tear the tape away from my mouth, and then I immediately slap my hands over my mouth and sob even harder.
“Megan, it’s okay,” he says reassuringly. “I’m here. You’re safe.” I feel the rope give from around my ankles. I start kicking at it to get it away from me.
Saint helps me stand up, but right when he goes to wrap me in his arms, I push away from him. I push him hard. I don’t want him to touch me.
I can’t believe he thought I would be okay with this.
I rush to my bedroom and then slam the door to the bathroom once I’m inside. I flip the light switch, but the power doesn’t come on.
He