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I slam my palm against it.

“Hello?”

Nothing.

“Let me out!”

I hit the door harder.

My heart is going too fast now. The room feels smaller than it did five minutes ago. The pretty clothes are still pretty. The makeup is still expensive. The fucking choker still looks incredible around my neck. And I can’t leave.

“Open the fucking door!”

I grab the first thing within reach, a little ceramic dish from the dresser, and throw it.

It explodes against the door.

I grab a bottle from the vanity next.

“Let me out!”

It hits hard enough to crack, splattering lotion across the white paint.

Still nothing.

I shove the vanity stool over and sweep an arm across the vanity. Something glass hits the floor and shatters.

“Do you fucking hear me?”

I pound both fists against the door.

“LET ME OUT!”

Silence.

I hit it again.

“Please!”

Footsteps.

I freeze.

They stop outside the door.

For one second, neither of us makes a sound.

Then the woman from the record store speaks from the other side. “Jamie?”

CHAPTER 4

Heather

“Jamie?”

Everything goes quiet on the other side of the door. That’s good. Quiet means he’s listening.

The first morning is always difficult. They wake somewhere unfamiliar, they’re confused, and confusion turns into fear before you can explain anything.