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open the passenger door, and try to make a run for it. My legs crumple under me, and I fall to the ground.

Luckily, it’s only grass, so I’m not too bruised.

I use my upper body to pull myself across the grass and to the main street. I try to crawl with my elbows, military style, and then push myself upright to try to wave down a passing vehicle. But there aren’t any cars. We’re in the middle of nowhere. I have to keep moving. I turn back to the house and I see Mike has exited again.

Crap. I have no choice. I try to run, sloppily, in the direction of the nearest house. But it’s too far away. “Help!” I shout out, trying to alert the neighbors. “Help!”

But Mike is running too, and he’s a lot faster and stronger—he tackles me to the pavement and I hit my head on the hard ground. Everything goes black.

I wake up to very unpleasant sensations of someone pushing my body around. When I am able to peel my eyes open, I see that Mike has tied a rope around my ankle to keep me in the bed. It also feels like he increased the dosage. Dammit.

He is now lying naked beside me, and tending to the bruise on my head. “Why did you do that, Milla?” he asks me. “Why did you try to run?”

I am feeling groggy already, and it’s difficult to respond. “I hate the drugs,” I whisper.

“I thought we were having fun together,” he tells me, and he seems hurt. “You’re just like my ex-wife. So disappointing.”

When he shoves another needle into my arm, I am afraid. I can barely move already... He has been dosing me with a new substance every few hours. I am afraid that Mike will make a mistake and pump my body full of so many sedatives that my heart stops, or I can no longer breathe.

Every time the needle touches my skin, I’m afraid it will be the last time. Every time I’m conscious and lucid for a few minutes, able to perform basic tasks and function normally, I worry that it will be the last time. This is not a controlled environment like the hospital. I’m not hooked up to a monitor.

It would be so easy for him to make a mistake and go too far.

He pulls his clothes on and leaves.

I will have to wait for another moment… I hope there is one. It hurts that I’ve decided to fight for my life, but I no longer seem to have the opportunity or the strength. Have I lost my chance?

Am I running out of time?

Mike seems to be even more excited by the situation, and he’s enjoyed my body a few times today while we’ve been on the run. He’s managed to use me in the car at a rest stop. And from the state of his clothing—probably again in this bed.

Each time it happens, it threatens to make me want to give up again. It makes me wish I had crashed the car to prevent this from happening. It makes me wish that one of the needles will be too strong, and I will never wake up.

But I’m trying to hold on to the last bit of fight left in me.

I hope it’s enough.

Chapter 43 Yvette

We’ve been driving all night to get to this cabin in Vermont, after checking out a few other spots. Now the sun is rising, and the scenery is beautiful. All three of us are tired, but Veronica and Gabriel took shifts driving.

I’m fairly certain it will be another dead end, and that Veronica’s guess about location is incorrect. It was really disappointing to search so many other houses belonging to Mike’s friends and family, and find nothing. My whole body aches.

“Here it is,” Gabriel says as he pulls into the driveway. “It looks like the lights are on. Someone’s home.”

“Can you see the car in the garage?” Veronica asks. “It is a BMW? Should I call the police?”

“I can’t tell,” Gabriel says, after exiting the vehicle and trying to peer into the garage.

I use my cane to hobble up the front stairs, and turn the doorknob, expecting nothing. But when the door swings open, I freeze. I can see that way on the other side of the house, Mike is standing in the kitchen, cooking something. Eggs, maybe. I see his hands on the frying pan, and I remember feeling them on my neck.

Just seeing him again sends a shiver right through me to the core, reminding me of all the nightmares that turned out to be real. I step back, feeling suddenly unstable on my feet.

“Gabe,” I whisper, tightly clutching my cane.

“I’ve got this,” he says, rolling up his sleeves and briskly moving forward into the house. He marches toward Mike. “Hey, buddy! I thought we could have a little talk about your new wife. Where is she?”

Mike turns around to see Gabriel and he flinches. Then he looks past him and sees me, and his eyes grow wide.

“Vetty?” he calls out.

Gabriel grabs the handle of the frying pan, and smashes the hot metal object against Mike’s skull. “Don’t call her that,” he hisses.

“Mmm,” Veronica says beside me, nodding and impressed. “Okay, I guess I can see a little of what you girls saw in him.”

We stand there for a few seconds, and appreciatively watch Gabriel bludgeon Michael’s head and body with the frying pan.

“Try not to kill him, honey,” I call out to Gabe.

“I’m trying my best,” he says as he continues to beat the shit out of Mike.

“Wish I had popcorn,” Veronica grumbles.

“Me too. Okay. That’s handled. Help me up the stairs so we can look for Milla,” I tell Veronica.

“What if Gabe needs our help?” she asks.

I laugh softly. “Don’t worry. Gabe’s going to beat him to a pulp. He already practiced on the walls of our entire house. If anyone’s going to need help, it’s Michael.”

“Good

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