My blood turned to ice, but it passed, or maybe it was just the wooden floor groaning. I did not know, and maybe I did not even want to know at that moment.
Emma leaned her forehead against my arm, humming the pond song Rosa had taught them, her voice so small, and sure it steadied me.
Then I spotted it...an old, rusted spoon on the floor near the bed. I remembered Josh was eating it earlier, dropping it when he left for the kitchen.
Maybe Emma would have picked it up. Whatever happened, I just thanked God in that moment.
I snatched it up without wasting another second.
It was a tool. A weapon.
And mostly... A Hope.
This time, I shoved the spoon deep into the seam and pressed down with every ounce of strength I had.
Emma also leaned into my back, her tiny palms flat against me, trying to help with her own small push.
The spoon bent and let out a groan, the kind of sound that made me think it would snap in two and leave us with nothing. My arms trembled so hard I thought my bones would give out.
Then, finally, something shifted. The stone moved.
Just the tiniest scrape, like a stubborn old man refusing to budge. It slid a fraction against the wall with a low grinding sound, dust breaking free in a choking gray cloud that filled my nose and mouth.
I coughed, fighting not to make a noise too loud. And then it hit. The air.
It came in a hiss, faint and small, but it was different. Not the stale, heavy air of the room we had been locked in for days. This was cooler. Stale, yes, but with another kind of weight to it, as if it belonged to a space beyond the walls.
"Almost," Emma whispered. Her voice trembled, caught between fear and the spark of something close to hope.
That hope stabbed straight into me. If there was space behind that stone, even a hollow gap, a crawlspace, or an old tunnel, then maybe Josh wasn’t as clever as he believed.
Men like him always thought they had control, that every detail bent to their rules. They never thought anyone would crawl into cracks they had forgotten.
The stone finally gave way with a sick, wet pop, like a tooth being pulled. It tumbled inward and struck something unseen with a hollow thud, a sound that reminded me of dropping a rock into deep water.
Now there was a hole. Jagged, uneven, small, but real. It gaped like a wound in the wall, wide enough for Emma’s hand to slip through. Beyond it was darkness that smelled of old dust and dry air.
My heart hammered. I shoved my fingers inside without stopping to think.
The rough stone tore my skin, scraped my knuckles raw, but I forced my hand deeper until my fingertips brushed against something brittle.
Webs, maybe cloth, maybe both, it crumbled at my touch. My throat clenched. Space meant possibility. Space meant maybe there was a way out.
But then my eyes found the chain again, the one that had anchored me for days. The bolt was sunk deep into the floor, a thick iron ring locked tight. I grabbed and pulled until my arms screamed, but nothing happened. Get full chapters from Nov3lFɪre.ɴet
Unless. Unless I could reach the bolt from the other side. If there was a nail or screw, if the base of the ring could twist loose, maybe I could free it.
I shoved my arm deeper into the jagged hole, ignoring the sting of torn skin. The hollow stank of rust and old dirt. My fingers caught on something thin and metallic.
I hooked my nail under it, pulled, and felt skin tear at my knuckles. I wanted to cry out, but bit down hard on the inside of my cheek. My heartbeat was so loud it drowned out everything else.
"What if Father comes?" Emma’s whisper was so small I almost didn’t hear it. Her voice shook.
"Then you run," I said, steadying my voice even as my hands trembled. "Run to the door. Hide in the hall. Don’t stop. Don’t look back. Do you understand?"
Her head shook, stubborn and strong in the dim light. "I not leave you."
That broke me in ways I didn’t have words for. I wanted to scoop her into my arms and tell her she’d never have to choose. But promises were empty without action. "Then help me," I whispered, raw and urgent. "Help me now."
I shoved the spoon into the ring’s base, twisting hard. My hands were slick with blood, my skin burning. The chain chewed deeper into my ankle. The whole room seemed to fill with the smell of rust, sweat, dust, and fear.
And then it happened. A snap. Small, sharp, but so powerful it felt holy.
The ring loosened. The bolt wobbled. The chain slid.
I shoved it through the hole like a rope, fumbling and yanking until half a hand’s length came free, then a whole. "Now, Emma!" I hissed.
She didn’t hesitate. She lunged forward, pressing her fingers against mine, pushing the chain. Together we hauled. Dust choked us.
The spoon bent nearly in half. Our hearts hammered in the same frantic rhythm.
Then, with a loud crack, the chain came loose.
For a second, everything went still. The silence was thick, shocked, like even the walls had to take a breath. Then the chain clattered onto the mattress, limp and useless.
I snatched it up and wrapped it around my wrist, as if holding it gave me proof. I was not chained anymore.
Blood ran hot down my ankle, the wound raw and wet, but pain was proof of life. Pain meant we still had a chance.
"Run," I said, my voice almost came like a gagging sound.
Emma shook her head, refusing again.
"Climb, then," I told her, more urgent now. "Climb. I will follow. Go."
This time she obeyed. She scrambled over my lap, small and fierce, and slipped into the jagged hole like she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment.
I shoved myself after her, shoulders tearing on rough stone, the chain scraping one last time before I dragged it free.
The crawl was narrow and brutal, pipes pressing against us, dust burning in our lungs. But there was a spark. A spark for freedom which was more than enough.
At last, the hollow spat us out into a service corridor that reeked of damp concrete and old water.
I collapsed onto the cold floor, chest heaving, Emma clinging to me. My ankle was on fire, my shoulder throbbed, but none of it mattered. Behind us, the hole gaped open, dust falling like ash from the wall.
We weren’t safe. Not even close.
But something inside me shifted in that moment. For the first time in days, I felt it rise sharp and bright.
"One step at a time," I muttered under my breath.