Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 20415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 102(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 20415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 102(@200wpm)___ 82(@250wpm)___ 68(@300wpm)
Maybe it could be…
If this door is locked, and Ethan locked it from the outside, and also boarded up the one and only window, is it that much of a stretch to think that he might have also stolen my phone while I wasn’t paying attention, just to make sure I don’t have a way of calling anyone to come and get me?
But…Ethan? He doesn’t seem like that kind of guy.
Don’t be stupid, Mya. All guys are that kind of guy.
I do another quick panicked lap around the room, but there’s no doubt about it; my phone isn’t here.
I open my mouth to scream, but just as the words are about to leave my mouth, I stop myself and catch them. If Ethan can lock me in here, who knows what he can do if he hears me bellowing for help? Carefully, I check the door one more time, then go to the window. My best bet is to scream so that someone might actually hear me—a neighbor or someone walking or biking by. So I flatten myself against the window the best I can, and scream, “Help!”
Somehow, I can tell by the way the sound of my voice bounces back from the window that there’s absolutely no way it’s getting out to anybody. Whatever he put out there is simply too good at insulting sound, and I know that if I try to break my way out of here, I’m just going to end up slicing my wrist open.
I go back to the door and search for anything that might give me a way to open it. This is one of those times that I wish I was one of those girls who loved gadgets and thingies and had learned how to pick locks for fun, but then again, I don’t have a bobby pin or a paperclip or anything to use on the lock, so it’s not like it would matter anyway. There is absolutely nothing in this room besides me, the bed, the nightstand, and the dresser, which is completely empty. Nothing that could give me a chance of getting out of this room.
Heart still pounding, I walk back over to the bed, now my bed, and sit down.
No, this guy is smart. He’s thought of everything. I’m definitely locked—trapped in here for the night. The only question is why?
5
Ethan
The next morning, I’m nervous as I approach Mya’s door. I mean, I shouldn’t be; I’m in complete control here, but I still am. I’ve never done anything like this—never taken such a bold approach with a girl before. This could backfire and explode right in my face, but I’m praying it doesn’t.
I’m praying Mya understands why I did what I did, but of course that’s never going to happen, so what I’m really expecting to happen is for her to run. I’m expecting for the moment I open that door for her to run as fast and as hard as she can for the hills—maybe even to try and body-check me out of the way if she can. So as I step closer, I ready myself.
“Mya?” I call out. “Mya, are you awake?”
No response.
“Mya, I’m going to open the door, okay? Please…please, don’t run. I’d like to talk to you, all right?”
Again, no response. Nothing but silence. I suppose there’s a chance she’s still sleeping, but I doubt it. It’s already almost nine o’clock, and for a girl like her, I’d bet she’s been up for a while now.
I take the key from my pocket and slip it into the lock.
“I’m going to unlock the door now, Mya,” I say, loud enough that she should be able to hear me. “Please, don’t run. Let’s just talk, okay?”
I twist the key and unlock the door. Then I turn the handle and gently start to pull open the door—
But before I can get it open more than a few inches, the door bursts out toward me, and Mya springs forth into the hallway. She drives a shoulder straight into my chest like a linebacker and races for the door to the outside.
Just as I suspected.
Thankfully, I’m prepared for something like this, and I spin on my feet, reach out, and snatch her by the wrist. I grab hard and pull her back to me like dancers in one of those waltz moves. Mya squeals and lashes out with a slap that I manage to catch in my other hand, and before she can do something else, like knee me in the balls or stomp on my foot, I sweep her legs out from underneath her and pin her down on the floor underneath me.
“Whoa, there,” I say as calmly as I can. “Let’s not turn this into a wrestling match.”
“Let me go!” she protests, squirming like a snake trying to get loose.