I can’t sleep for more than a few minutes at a time. I just can’t. I’m afraid to move, afraid to even breathe too loudly. But I have to. I have to look and see if there’s a way out.

He has my phone. I hope he still has it. I know I heard the ringtone earlier, so I can only hope Cheryl or someone tracks it and finds me here.

But how long would that take? Too fucking long.

I can’t wait for a knight in shining armor to come and save me. Every second I'm here is another second Kade could decide to just kill me, or worse. I shudder as I think back to Ricky and Vic. Some things are definitely worse than death. The first thing I need to do is move. I haven’t budged an inch since he left me.

I’m terrified that the moment I move off the bed, he’ll burst through the door and beat me. I remember his weight on top of me, and the way he gripped my hair. I can't fight him. It's an uneven match.

He’s not going to save me. It was stupid for me to even hope he would. No one’s coming to my rescue.

I have to try to save myself.

Without realizing it, I've gathered handfuls of the down comforter. It's fluffy and soft, but the intricate stitching chafes against the cuts on my wrists. With a small sigh I let the comforter fall and gently run a fingertip along my wounds.

I can’t stay here and wait for more.

I slowly pull the blanket away from me. I’m still fully clothed in my sweater and skirt. There’s no way I’m taking anything off of me. I need as much between me and that asshole as possible.

I gently climb off the bed and head over to the one thing I’ve been thinking about all night. The windows.

There are two large windows on either side of the large bed. They’re both covered by curtains that run from the floor to the ceiling. The fabric is thick and rich, although with such little light in the room, I can't tell for certain what color the curtains are. I place one foot on the cold hardwood floors and pause before placing my full weight down slowly.

The floors creak, and I wince. My eyes dart to the door and I hold my breath, waiting for a sign that he’s heard. It’s been hours since he left me alone here, I think. He must be sleeping by now.

We’re high up on the second story. I’m sure he’s certain I can’t escape. I fucking hope he’s that confident.

I take another step, trying my best to keep the creaking to a minimum and walk with slow, deliberate steps to the nearest window.

My heart beats loudly in my ears. It climbs up my throat, threatening to suffocate me. What if he finds me trying to escape? What will he do to me?

I shake my head slightly and walk quicker to the window. I can’t think like that. I can’t let fear keep me from saving myself. I pull back the heavy curtain and nearly cry at what I find. My shoulders sink inward. There are bars on the windows. Thick steel bars. They’re on the outside, so I could open a window, but then I’d have to try to squeeze myself through. I don’t even think my head would fit, let alone my wider parts.

I swallow, and my dry throat aches from the wretched screaming that did nothing for me. I can’t give up. I imagine he locked the door, but I haven’t checked. I take two steps toward it, but then I stop as I spot the dresser, remembering the thought I had earlier. The knobs. I need a weapon; I need more than one.

I brace one hand and hover over the knob. I see his tall frame; I feel his lips on my neck. I shouldn’t think twice about hurting him. He deserves it. He can’t do this to me! But I do. I question if I should. I question if I really want to.

The thoughts are gone just as quickly as they came, and I hold on to the anger of being taken and the fear of being trapped.

I quickly try to unscrew a knob, but the first one I try is on so fucking tight. I grip it harder and twist it to the point that it hurts my hand, but it doesn't give at all. I breathe frantically and try the other one on the top drawer. But it doesn’t budge either.

I crouch lower to try the next, and hope lights within me as it loosens. I unscrew it, but instead of the glass pull being attached to the screw, the screw itself is still in the drawer. I try opening the drawer as silently as I can, but the thing is old. There aren’t any tracks, and it’s loud as hell trying to pull it out.

I get it open just enough for my hand to fit inside. The drawer itself is empty, which I find odd, but I don’t give it much thought.

I try to get the screw loose, pushing my thumb against it and twisting, and when that doesn't work, I try using my nails. But it won't fucking move.

Useless.

I lick my lips and drop the knob into the drawer, not bothering to close it as I take a look around the room.

I need to find something else.

The room is massive. Compared to the dorms and my cramped apartment, it’s ridiculous in size.

I search the room for closets, but there are none. There are two wardrobes that look identical to the left of the room, however.

As I walk toward them to see what’s inside, I nearly trip. A rug I hadn’t noticed before is under my feet. I must have fallen onto it earlier, but I hadn’t noticed. I steady myself and stare at the door, hoping he didn't hear. Minutes pass with no sign of him.

I walk as quietly as I can to the wardrobes, and pray there’s something in there I can use against him.

It doesn’t take long for me to get there and find the first one empty. Hope dwindles inside of me, but I have to try the other. With shaky hands, I open the second wardrobe and I find the same. Empty. The feeling of defeat washes over me. That leaves only one other thing to try, and I shouldn't even be getting my hopes up.

I look to the door to the room, and pray it’s unlocked. What are the odds he would be so foolish?

And if it isn't locked, maybe he’s waiting for me. Maybe it’s a test.

Either way, I have to try. I won’t stay here and make this easy on him. I can’t. I need to get the fuck out of here. That’s the only truth I need to hold on to.