I froze, then let out a strangled scream.
"Ahhh—!"
The neighbor covered my mouth with his hand and spoke in a rough, low voice. "Don't scream."
My eyes widened, my chest rose and fell, and my breathing was shallow. Why he was here was a mystery to me.
He quickly untied my hands and feet and pulled the needle from my arm.
I didn't realize until then that I had been hooked up to a bag of glucose the entire time.
When he hauled me out of bed, I realized for the first time that I was still in the bedroom. A small hole in the bottom of a plastic bucket that hung above me allowed water to drip down on me, drop by drop.
I tried to stand, but my legs failed me. Before I hit the ground, he grabbed me.
"Why are you helping me?" Words flew out of my mouth as I asked, feeling lightheaded. "How did you know I was stuck here?"
He sounded rough and shaky, as though he had been harmed before. "No time." We must go.
I remained silent and let him lead the way.
However, as soon as we entered the living room, the door opened.
There stood Dillon, holding a fresh bottle of glucose.
I screamed loudly, almost like an animal.
He did not resemble the kind man I believed I knew in the way he looked at me. Encircled by shadows, his focus was fixed on my belly, which was now more than five months round, rather than me.
"Where do you think you're going?"
He stepped forward as though my neighbor had never been there. "Did I not say that? You're ill.
"You're the one who's sick!" I shouted. "You are a monster!"
His face hardened like a demon emerging from hell.
He drew a knife from behind his back, and as he advanced, the blade gleamed.
The neighbor took immediate action. He reached into his waistband, retrieved a gun, steadyed it, and pointed it at Dillon.
I let out a gasp. A firearm?
Then I heard him say, "Dennis Rivers, put down the knife," in a firm, icy voice.
Dennis Rivers?
I was struck by that name like a lightning strike. Dillon wasn't really Dillon.
He appeared to notice the man at last. Despite the gun in his face, he smiled and turned his head slightly.
"Do you really think you can pull that trigger?"
My neighbor's expression remained unchanged. He didn't reconsider. "Give me a try." Verify whether your knife can outpace my bullet.
I couldn't breathe, so I just stood there.
A stranger, not my boyfriend. There's a gun on my neighbor. And in the midst of them, I'm stuck. It was illogical.
Dennis glanced back at me after turning his head. He extended his hand. "Baby, come here. The man beside you is insane.
I remained motionless.
I hesitated, and Dennis's smile turned to a frown. He tossed the bottle of glucose onto the ground. Shattering glass sent shards flying. My shin and foot were cut by one of them. The blood ran down warm.
"Why don't you ever listen, babe?"
"You're not feeling well. You're not going to take your medication. I won't have you with me. What else ought I to do?
"You already know what happens when you don't listen."
His grin turned eerie. "Do you remember the gifts I sent you?"
A blast of ice went through me.
He was the one all along.
His eyes glistened with madness, and he grinned even more. "What's wrong?" Do you dislike my presents?
I staggered back, trembling and white.
Dennis made a lunge, but the icy muzzle pressed against his chest.
The neighbor's voice sounded like stone. "One more step, and I'll shoot you."
Dennis teased, wrapping his fingers around the barrel. "All right, then. "I dare you." Shoot.
My neighbor's thumb slid back, causing the gun to cock.
"Did you really think you could get away again, Dennis Rivers?"