I work as a waitress, so I’m used to sore feet, spills, and the occasional bruise. But that day, it was different.
One bad step, a slick patch on the floor, and I went down hard.
A few hours later, I left
Between the two of them, they managed to help me into our bedroom and ease me onto the bed. Pillows were arranged behind my back, blankets tucked around my legs, water placed within reach. I remember feeling genuinely cared for—like I could finally exhale.
Then they stepped outside and pulled the door closed.
A second later, I heard it.
Click.
The unmistakable sound of a lock turning.
At first, I thought I’d imagined it. But the silence that followed felt… wrong.
“Collins?” I called, half-laughing, half-curious. “Hello? Is someone out there?”
No answer.
I waited a few seconds, then a few more. Still nothing.
A knot formed in my stomach. I grabbed my crutches, carefully swung my legs over the edge of the bed, and hobbled to the door. The handle wouldn’t budge.
Locked.
That’s when I noticed my phone wasn’t beside me. My gaze darted around the room, heart starting to pound. It took me a moment to remember—I’d left my bag in the hallway when we
So there I was: door locked, leg in a cast, no phone, no answer.
And no idea why.
I knocked lightly at first, then a bit louder, not wanting to sound panicked but feeling it creep in anyway. The house stayed strangely quiet. No footsteps. No voices. Just the faint sounds of the street outside.
Minutes stretched out, slow and thick.
What happened next changed everything…
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