Izzy had experienced distress, apprehension, and anxiety during her months with Adam. The longer they’d lived together, the more she saw through his charm, and the more worried she felt about their future.
She had felt fear too, but never like this.
The sound of someone in the next room sent a wave of terror through her. For a moment she stood staring at the murder kit which Adam had prepared. Then the spell broke and Izzy moved fast.
She had to or she’d die.
She stepped away from the bedroom door so that Adam wouldn’t see her from the next room.
As quietly as she could, she moved to the wardrobe. The door creaked slightly when it opened. Izzy clenched her teeth. There was nothing she could do. It was the only place to hide.
She pulled the door the rest of the way open. The wardrobe was packed with clothes. Mostly Adam’s, and some stuff Izzy had left behind.
She stepped into the wardrobe, squeezing herself between the hanging coats, trousers, and shirts, sitting on the wooden base, her knees tight to her chest so that she fitted.
Footsteps moved across the sitting room.
With a swallow, Izzy pulled the wardrobe door inwards with her fingertips. The interior of the wardrobe darkened. There was nothing to grab on the inside of the door, so she couldn’t get the door to shut fully. She had to make do with pulling it in most of the way and covering herself with a jacket, though that wouldn’t fool Adam if he looked.
She made herself as small as possible as Adam came into the bedroom.
He muttered under his breath. A constant stream of filthy, angry words. He was right outside. Only a thin layer of wood separated them.
Blood pounded in Izzy’s ears, impossibly loud.
She was sure he’d hear it.
Looking through the crack, Izzy caught a glimpse of Adam’s back, which faced her way. He moved to the side, disappearing from view.
Izzy closed her eyes.
I’m a stone. I feel nothing.
She clasped the sleeve of a jacket that hung over her.
What was Adam doing? If she opened her eyes, would she find him standing in front of the wardrobe, looking in the crack?
She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter but despair began to give way to anger. How dare he make her feel like this? She’d done nothing wrong. What made him think he could make her life hell? Terrorise her? Stop her moving on?
She wasn’t his possession.
Perhaps she should confront him. Dive out of the wardrobe and scream in his face, Get out of my life.
A tickle began to irritate her throat. A coughing fit?
Oh, God, no. Not now.
She opened her eyes in time to see Adam pass in front of the crack in the door. He exited the room, crossed the next one.
The apartment’s front door opened and closed.
He was gone.
Izzy finally let herself breathe. She wiped her face with her hand. Some survival instinct prevented her from moving at once. She waited to see if he was really gone, unable to shake the feeling that it might all be a trick.
Perhaps Adam was still there, waiting for her to emerge so he could take his revenge.
She waited for what seemed an eternity. Perhaps it was only ten minutes. At the end of that time, she had still heard nothing.
She pushed the door open and blinked in the sudden brightness of the bedroom. While she had been folded in the wardrobe, her limbs had grown stiff. She got out and stretched.
Now the coughing fit came. Thank goodness she had held it off long enough. She coughed until her lungs hurt, then straightened up, her face pink.
Glancing out the bedroom door confirmed that Adam was really gone. She looked at the bed.
The murder kit was gone too.