Leanne’s eyelids are so heavy, but there’s a voice inside telling her to open them and move. She spreads her fingers at her sides. They touch a soft surface. She extends her arms and find they move freely. No restraints.
Still, tremors of fear slice through her. Something is wrong.
Her head is spinning.
Where am I?
Images flash through her mind. A man, a dog, ice cream… Gracie!
She jolts to a seated position, opening her eyes and recoiling at the sudden burst of light. But she fights against it, squinting as she scans her surroundings.
She’s on a single-sized bed in a room decorated for a young girl, though it feels like a huge space. The bedding is a bright pink, and the walls are papered in a pale-pink nondescript pattern, with a border at the level of a chair rail.
To her left is a large window with metal bars.
The blood in her veins becomes ice.
Across the room are two doorways. She sees a vanity and a toilet through one—a bathroom. The other is shut. There is a third door on the right side of the room that is also closed. One of these is likely a closet and the other a way out.
But first, where is my Gracie?
The question ricochets in her head as a sob, as she now trails her gaze along the right wall. There’s another bed with a small form beneath the comforter and a little pudgy hand poking out over the fabric.
“Gracie.” A plea, a cry, not much above a whisper.
She shuffles to the edge of her mattress, throws her legs over the edge and stands. Pain flares in her ankle, blinding her vision, and she crumples to the floor. She crawls to the other bed, tugging herself up by clawing at the comforter. It comes toward her in massive waves of fabric. Suddenly it’s like she’s drowning, trying to keep her head above water.
She swims free, and her daughter is facing her. Lying on her side, her eyes pinched tight.
Gracie!
She stares at her motionless daughter. If she’s breathing, it’s so shallow Leanne can’t see her chest rise and fall.
Oh my God! Please no!
She shakes her daughter’s arm. No response.
She tries again. This time, near violently. The girl groans.
Leanne scoops her daughter into her arms and squeezes with what strength she can muster, tears falling. “Baby, baby, it’s Mommy.”
Gracie turns her head and looks in her eyes—the bluest blue peering into hers and the missing pockets of time return. She trusted that man, allowing herself to be blinded by his charms. But he’d been so kind to them. Her daughter had loved petting and playing with his black Lab.
Meanwhile, he was working his agenda.
Leanne wants to tell Gracie everything will be okay, but she’s feeling hopeless and responsible. This is all her fault.
She needs to get them out of here. If only she can figure how to do that. “Just stay right here, okay, sweetie?”
Gracie nods.
Leanne leaves her daughter’s side, hobbling. She discovers the closed door across the room is secured shut with screws.
She heads to the other closed door, grabs the handle, and it twists easily.
She will get them out of here!
She pulls on the door, but it doesn’t budge. She pushes. No give.
It must be locked on the outside.
She bangs her palms against the door. Angry, frustrated. Tears burn in her eyes, but she has to be strong for her daughter. She begs a higher power this isn’t the end for her. For Gracie.