Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

OLIVIA

I have no idea how long I've been down here.

I finally stopped screaming. It went on for a long time. And even after I stopped, I was still shaking. I sat down in the corner of the hole, across from the skeleton, and just hugged myself. For hours, maybe. I don't know who this skeleton belongs to, but I can't kid myself it's a good sign that it's here. Somebody else was down in this hole. And that person died here.

Or more likely, was murdered.

The memories of how I got down here start to return more vividly. The handkerchief shoved in my face that smelled funny. Not being able to breathe. And then… nothing.

He's going to kill me. That's why I'm here. And I can only imagine the reason he put me here instead of killing me outright is that he has other plans for me before he kills me.

But everyone has got to be looking for me. My mom… I want her so badly, it hurts. I can't imagine how scared she must have been when she came into my bedroom and found me missing. She would have called the police immediately. She'll never stop looking for me. She'll have every policeman in the whole state out searching.

And then when the police find me, they'll throw his ass in jail. And I'll get to go home to my warm, comfortable bed. And Mom will make me chocolate chip pancakes. And I'm not leaving my bed for a week. Well, maybe I'll go to the doctor to have them take a look at my ankle, which is still throbbing.

I'm going to get out of here. I know it. My parents will find me.

My stomach lets out a low growl. I'm starving. And thirsty. So thirsty. I finished the water an hour ago. I knew I should ration it more, but I couldn't help myself. I picked up the thermos and emptied it down my throat without a second thought. And now it's gone.

I wonder how long it takes for a person to die from dehydration.

Maybe that's how Phoebe died. That's what I have named the person who the bones in the corner belong to. Mom and I used to watch the TV show Friends in reruns, and Phoebe was my favorite character. So that's what I have called her. Phoebe. She deserves a name. I wonder if her parents are still looking for her. When I get out of here I'll tell people she's down here. Maybe her parents can have some closure.

I'm going to get out of here. I will.

I'm going to find a way. I won't give up.

I hear a noise coming from above. Are those footsteps? Is it the police? I start to scream, but my throat is so parched, I have one false start before anything comes out.

" Help! Help me, please !"

It's footsteps. Definitely footsteps. There is a sound of metal just above my head, and then the creaking of hinges. Finally, a bright flash of light fills my vision.

After sitting in the dark for so long, the light is agonizing. I clasp my hands over my eyes to shut it out. It's a flashlight. Someone is shining a flashlight on me.

"Olivia?"

It's him . It's not the police. He's come back.

"Help!" I shriek, hoping a neighbor or passerby might hear. "Somebody! Help me! Let me out!"

He cocks his head to the side. "I'm afraid you're wasting your breath, Olivia. We're in a cabin in the middle of nowhere. Nobody's going to hear if you scream."

I stop screaming and stare up at him as I catch my breath. I'm not entirely sure I believe him, but he doesn't seem at all concerned that I'm yelling. So it's probably true .

"I'm sorry it took me so long to get back to you," he says. Although he doesn't sound sorry. Actually, there's no expression at all in his voice, like he's a robot. He sounds so different than usual. It's freaky. "The police are everywhere. I had to wait until night."

"Please let me out," I croak.

I peek through my fingers, up at his face, squinting through the bright light. I can't believe I ever thought he was handsome. I must have been out of my mind.

"I'm afraid I can't do that," he says.

Tears spring to my eyes, but I try to keep them from falling. I have a feeling my crying won't make him feel any sympathy. "Why not? I won't tell anyone. I swear . I'll just say that I ran away. I promise."

"Yes. I'm sure."

"I swear!"

He smiles in a way that makes my skin crawl. "I'm sorry, Olivia. I can't let you out."

I take a deep breath. "Please… if you let me out, I'll… I'll do anything you want. Anything ."

He lets out a laugh, loud enough that I know he must be telling the truth about us being the only people out here. "You'll do whatever I want anyway. It's not like you have a choice."

That's probably true. He's not a big guy, but he's much bigger than me. He could overpower me easily, even if I wasn't weak from lack of food and water with an injured ankle.

"What do you want then?" I ask in a tiny voice.

He doesn't answer me.

I glare up at his face. "You better let me out right now. If you don't, when the police find me here, I'll tell them everything."

He flashes that smile again. "Oh, will you?"

"You bet I will!" A muscle twitches in my jaw as I shout up at him. "I'll tell them what you did! You'll go to jail for the rest of your life!"

I watch his expression, waiting for him to react. But his face doesn't show even a flicker of fear.

"Are you threatening me, Olivia?" he says. "I really hope you're not threatening me."

There's something in his eyes that's even more terrifying than the rotting corpse in the corner of the hole. My mouth is so dry, I'm not sure I can even manage a response. But I clear my throat. "I'm not threatening you. I'm just telling you what's going to happen."

"Well," he says, "I better make sure they never find you then."

I clutch my knees, my heart pounding in my chest. He means it. He's never going to let me out of here. Ever.

Oh God…

He lifts a large brown paper shopping bag into the air and drops it into the hole. It falls beside me, making a loud enough impact that I flinch and let out a yelp.

"That's food and drink," he says. "I don't know when I'll be able to get back here, so you better make it last."

And then the light goes out.

"Wait!" I cry. "Wait!"

His voice again, cutting through the blackness: "What?"

I swallow, hoping I can appeal to his sympathy one last time because threats obviously don't do the trick. "Can you leave me the flashlight? Please?"

He's quiet for a moment, as if considering it. Dare I hope he might say yes? I would give anything for that flashlight.

"It's so dark down here," I say softly, "and it's so hard to tell what everything is. It's driving me crazy. If you could leave me the flashlight—"

"No," he says.

And then the trap door above my head creaks shut. And I hear the sound of the lock being turned, trapping me down here once again. I bury my face in my knees and let out a sob.

I don't want to die down here. There's got to be a way out.