Right after our daughter’s funeral, my husband insisted on quickly throwing out all her things from the kids’ room, but while cleaning, I found her note…
Now needed to open the messenger and find Alex’s contact. She turned the phone in her hands, trying to tap icons with her fingertip. Each movement was hard, but despair gave her strength.
From downstairs came Michael’s farewell words to the movers. Time was running out.
Finally, Emily opened the chat with Alex and began typing a message.
SOS, home, tied.
She didn’t manage more; the key turned in the lock. Emily quickly dropped the phone on the dresser and darted to the bed.
Managed to sit a second before the door opened. Michael entered, holding some case. «Movers left,» he announced, setting the case on the table.
«Now we can talk calmly.»
He approached her, carefully inspected the tape on her wrists. «Didn’t try to free yourself? Smart girl, it would be useless.»
Michael noticed the fallen vase and frowned. «Though no, you did try. Bad idea, Emily, very bad.»
He picked up the vase, put it back on the nightstand, then with a sharp motion ripped the tape from her lips. Emily cried out in pain.
«Sorry,» Michael winced, «like a Band-Aid, better all at once. Remember, you didn’t want to do that with Olivia’s things. Turns out I was right.»
He went to the case, opened it.
Inside, Emily saw medical instruments, ampoules, syringes. «What are you going to do?» she asked, trying to sound firm.
Michael took out a syringe and ampoule. «First, calm you down. You’re too agitated. And we have a long conversation ahead.»
He filled the syringe with clear liquid. «This will help you relax and answer my questions honestly. Who did you tell about the documents? Who else knows?»
Emily scooted to the headboard. «I didn’t tell anyone. I swear.»
«Lying again!» Michael shook his head. «You were at Riverside Cafe. Who did you meet? Who did you show copies of the documents to?»
He approached closer, syringe ready. Emily tried to crawl away but hit the wall.
«Please, Michael, let’s talk. I didn’t show anything to anyone. Just wanted to be alone, think.»
«Last chance to tell the truth.» Michael loomed over her. «Who was with you at the cafe?»
Emily was silent.
Michael sighed. «Well, we’ll find out another way.» He grabbed her shoulder, preparing to inject the needle.
At that moment, the doorbell rang downstairs. Michael froze, listening. «Expecting someone?» he asked, squeezing her shoulder painfully.
Emily shook her head. «No? Maybe neighbors or delivery?»
The bell rang again, more insistently. Michael hesitated, then put the syringe on the nightstand.
«Don’t move. I’ll be back soon.» He left, locking the door again.
Emily heard his footsteps on the stairs. Then the sound of the front door opening and muffled voices. She couldn’t make out words, but one voice seemed familiar.
Alex? Had he gotten her message and come? Or coincidence? Either way, it was a chance. Maybe the only one.
Emily darted to the dresser again, grabbed the phone. The message to Alex was still unfinished. She quickly added: In bedroom. Second floor. Help.
And hit send.
Voices downstairs grew louder. Seemed Michael was arguing with the visitor. Emily looked around for something to help free herself.
Her gaze fell on the desk lamp with a sharp metal base. She approached the table, turned her back, and began rubbing the tape against the sharp edge. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the tape began to give.
Sweat beaded on her forehead from effort, but Emily kept sawing her improvised bonds. From downstairs came the sound of the front door slamming. Michael was returning.
Emily doubled her efforts, feeling the tape finally yielding. A bit more. There…
