My heart hammered so violently in my chest, that I was sure it was visible, like in some of these chaotic cartoons.
I had the knife, like every night—even over the weekend Thomas had vanished—still between the mattress and headboard. I could kill him, but only with the advantage of surprise. Waiting to see if he did more, I breathed deeply, still feigning sleep.
The touch stopped, but instead, a face came closer. I felt the breath fawning my skin, and this was the moment I regretted everything anew.
To have followed that fake butler, to have gotten into some kind of freaky mother-son substitute relationship with Jude, and especially, that I promised to stay for a year.
This feels like a horror movie, where the monster was in control, getting you when you would go as far as even to blink.
Funnily enough, I found a bit of relief in the fact that my eyes were closed. As long as he doesn't discover me, I doubt he would full-fledged rape a sleeping woman, that would surely wake up.
