I stood in the pouring rain, staring at the figure in my window. The streetlamp cast a sickly yellow glow on the glass, just enough to show me the outline. He wasn't moving anymore. He was just watching me.
My sneakers were soaked through. My car was a useless, two-ton paperweight with slashed tires. I looked down the street. It was empty. The nearest gas station was two miles away, and my phone battery was sitting at a pitiful 12%.
Running wasn't an option. If I ran, I’d be out in the open. I’d be the prey.
I looked back at the duplex. It was a brick fortress, looming against the black sky. It was a trap, yeah. But it was my trap. My keys were in my hand, heavy and sharp. My equipment was inside. My life was inside.
And Sarah was inside.
I knew it with a certainty that made my stomach knot. She hadn't left. She hadn't been dragged out to a car. She was somewhere in the building’s guts.
"Okay," I whispered, shivering as a line of freezing rain ran down my neck. "You want to play house? Let’s play."
I gripped the tire iron I’d pulled from my trunk—it wasn’t much, but it was heavy steel—and marched back to the front door.
ns216.73.216.10da2
and then Add to home screen.