Why the fuck did he do that? Why is he fucking with my head?

It’s not bad enough that he has me caged in this room, locked up like an animal, but he also has to pour salt into the wound by exploiting my unwanted attraction to him?

Once again, I find myself struggling to understand what makes this man tick. He’s smarter, much smarter than I ever gave him credit for.

And he’s effectively turned me into a crazy woman.

Never in my life have I been so out of sorts. So… unable to control myself.

Control… It all comes down to control. He’s effectively stripped everything away from me, and I’m desperate to get some of it, any of it, back.

My attempt to murder Simon might have failed, but he also failed when he didn’t take the fork with him.

No, there will be no second attempt. Not only because I know he’ll see it coming, but because, despite what happened to Ahmad, I’m not a killer. I’m not a complete fucking psycho like Matthew and his men.

That and I don’t plan on being here when he gets back.

I’m going to use the fork to get out of this room. It’s my ticket to freedom.

Smart as he may be, Simon really fucked up when he informed me he’s going to be gone all day. Not only does it give me plenty of time to get my act together, it also gives me plenty of time to find a way out of this prison.

It takes me longer than I like to chip away at the door with the end of the fork until I can squeeze the fork through enough to push against the latch, but when I do I feel a strong sense of accomplishment.

Ha, take that, asshole.

I give one good push and the latch slides in. Another push and I’m out in the hall.

Pausing, I listen carefully. All is quiet. I tiptoe my way to the staircase and lean over the banister, checking the first floor.

There’s no movement. No noise. Not even a beep.

Good, he’s still gone.

Quietly, I slink down the stairs, on high alert.

It hasn’t escaped me that this could be a trick. Given that I still don’t understand Simon, I can’t put anything past him. This could very well be another way to fuck with me.

If there’s one thing I do know, it’s that he seems to enjoy fucking with my head.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I make my way to the front door and can’t help but feel like this has been too easy.

Then I spot the catch.

Beside the front door is a keypad for a security system.

Shit.

I step up to the keypad and read the display. It reads: Armed. All zones secure.

What the fuck does that mean? How many zones does he have?

Reaching for the door knob, I hesitate. If I try it will it set the alarm system off?

Probably. Fuck. And who knows who will show up. I doubt it will be the police. More likely it will be Simon or one of Matthew’s other men.

It takes every ounce of self-control I have to keep from saying fuck it and trying the door knob anyway, but the last thing I want to do is try it and still be trapped.

There has to be another way out of the house, there has to be.

Backing away from the door, I turn around and consider my options. I don’t know exactly how security systems work, but I know they’re usually connected to the doors and windows. So messing with any of them right now is out of the question.

I walk through the living area, the kitchen. Searching for a phone, for a computer, for anything that will give me a connection to the outside world, but only come up empty-handed.

Simon’s house is abnormally neat and orderly. The majority of his drawers and cabinets are half empty, filled with only with the necessities. Everything is sorted by color or function. I don’t understand how anyone can live like this, but it certainly makes searching through his crap easier.

Makes it even easier to mess everything up for the fuck of it.

Once I tire of moving his things around, I move on to the other doors on this level. Of course there’s a blinking thing by both the door that leads to the garage and the one that leads to the backyard.

The few interior doors, however, are clear.

One leads to a bathroom, the other to a closet.

The third leads to a set of stairs that I assume leads down to the basement. I really don’t want to go down there, I really don’t. Who knows what kind of messed up stuff he keeps in his dungeon. There could be bodies or other freaky stuff.

Besides, I doubt there’s an exit.

Closing the door to the basement, I feel the need to scream in frustration. Why can’t anything about this situation be easy? I’m not a stupid woman, I should be able to figure a way out of this.

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