Chapter 38: NOW - The Safe Room

I wish I could see you,” he complains.

I grip the can tighter, waiting for the door to open.

“You look beautiful though,” he says. “Your body was so light when I carried you down here. I was so careful with you, Amber. You’re precious cargo to me.”

I gag and turn my head away from the door. The thought of his hands on my body… But I can’t let him know how rancid I find the thought of him anywhere near me. After taking a few breaths to compose myself, I force my muscles to relax, stand with my legs shoulder-width apart and lift my chin.

“I appreciate that, Peter,” I say. “I’m glad you helped me. Are you coming inside to chat?”

“It’s been so long since I heard your voice. You still sound young even though I know time has passed.”

“Yes, it’s been a long time. Why don’t we talk about it? If you let me out, I could sit with you and have a cup of tea.”

He laughs. “You want to talk to me?”

I make my voice sound sweet. “Of course I do.”

I’ve known this man for over twenty years. We were never a couple. We were only ever friends as children and even then, I saw how spoilt he could be. Despite us never being close, he has revealed deep, dark aspects of his personality through our encounters. I know that he has some sort of romantic fixation on me. I know he likes to be the one with the power. I know he throws a tantrum when he doesn’t get what he wants. He’s sad and lonely and has a volatile temper. He’s not in love with me; he’s in love with stalking me. But I think there’s something deep down that might react well if I offer him what he’s been asking me for all these years.

I need to pander to this psycho.

“It’s nice to see you again, Peter,” I say, keeping my voice soft.

I step closer to the security desk and flick through the cameras until I find him sitting outside the safe room in a chair from the kitchen. He’s casually eating a sandwich made from ingredients in my fridge. My bread. My butter. My plate he’s holding.

I turn off the sound so that he doesn’t echo.

He also has no intention of coming into the safe room, I can see that now. I place the can down on the desk.

“Did you break into the library to get my attention?” I ask. “That was brave of you, wasn’t it?”

He shrugs. “Not a big deal. Flimsy security at that place. You must be hungry and thirsty. The drug I gave you was quite potent.” He lets out a small laugh. “Emily Googled the best kind to use. She used to be a druggy, so she knows how to dose. But I insisted on a little extra just to be sure.”

Emily.

My heart sinks. I hadn’t wanted to be right, despite the impossible choice I made to not let her back in. The open window, the electricity blackout, the way she kept me busy with games and tending to her injuries. She even faked a domestic violence situation to garner my sympathy. It’s disgusting. Why would she do any of that for this man?

“Is Emily your girlfriend?” I ask.

Peter chuckles slightly. “Between you and me, Emily is a means to an end. She was useful in helping me get to this point, but she… Well, she isn’t you, Amber. Please know that. It’s important to me.”

“I understand,” I say, earnestly.

“Good. I’d hate to get off on the wrong foot again after all these years.”

A surge of hate-fuelled heat floods my skin. The wrong foot? Fuck him. He knows what he’s doing. He knows he drugged me and locked me up. But I force it down. I have to play his game now and he loves it, but it’s still the best way to manipulate him.

“How did she let you into the house?” I ask. “Was it the window?”

“Why should I tell you all my tricks?”

“I just think it’s impressive, you climbing up the drainpipe like that. You’re still as fit as ever.”

He doesn’t answer but I see him grinning on the screen, confirming my suspicions. For a moment the image freezes with his sardonic smile and cold eyes looking straight at me. I recoil from the screen. Then the feed goes back to normal, and he takes another bite of his sandwich.

“How have you been?” I ask nonchalantly. “I’ve thought about you a lot. How long has it been since I last saw you? About eighteen months? My husband was in hospital. It was the end of his⁠—”

“Let’s not talk about… him.” Peter places the plate on the ground and folds his arms. “We’re all allowed one mistake or two, aren’t we? That man was never right for you, Amber. He was so weak. Such a sad, beta male.” He says the words like he’s grinding them through his teeth, truly repulsed by the idea of such a thing.

I open my mouth to defend Ed but realise that would only annoy him, making it less likely that he’d let me out of here. I keep one eye on a second screen, where Sophie is still sitting at the kitchen table, not moving. Alone and afraid. She must be in shock.

“I bet your mum’s happy about Emily,” I say. “About you moving on, I mean. She’s very pretty. And young.”

“Mum’s dead,” he says flatly. “She died three weeks ago.”

The shock jolts through me. “She did? I’m so sorry.”

“Your mother came to the funeral, Amber. I thought you’d know.”

“Mum and I don’t… we aren’t in touch too often these days.”

His head remains tilted down, thinking perhaps about his mother. I feel like I should say more to keep him on side, but he breaks the silence. “As you know, Amber, I’ve had some challenges over the years. Life has never been easy for me.” He adjusts his shirt collar. “But let’s focus on the positives, shall we? I’ve been in work, mostly as a long-distance HGV driver, and saving up as much as I could. It’s important to me that you know how hard I work.”

“Oh, I know,” I say. “I’ve always admired your work ethic.”

His eyes light up. “That’s right. And let me tell you something I’ve always believed. A woman like you shouldn’t have to work. That’s why I’ve been grafting and saving for so long. I’d give you a life where you don’t need to work. Not like him.”

I almost laugh at that. I didn’t need to work at all after marrying Ed, but I wanted to. As soon as Sophie went to school, I found a job as a teaching assistant. It was only when Ed died that I found the part-time library position, otherwise I would have carried on. But the hours at a secondary school proved too tricky to manage with being a single mum. I even had plans to train as a teacher so that I could make use of my English Literature degree. I love working. Ed knew and respected that. Peter isn’t capable of that kind of complexity.

“Edward Jonathan Denton.” Peter scoffs. “So weak that he wasted away in a hospital bed.” He stands so swiftly that I flinch away from the screen. Then he’s at the door, his breathing laboured. “This is what a real man looks like, Amber. This is who you rejected. Look at me. Many have tried to beat me down, but no one succeeded. Not even you, you little whore, every time you chose some moron over a real man.”

I let out an involuntary whimper and trip over my feet clambering to the back of the room. I’m fifteen again, terrified, alone. My lungs are ice; my skin covered in goosebumps.

His fist thumps against the door. “I can’t stand this barrier between us.”

“Then open it.” Cowering by my mattress, I reach up to the shelf for a second soup tin.

The thought of him coming in here scares me down to my bones, but it’s one step closer to getting out of here.

“No, no. You need time, I get that. You’re going to have it, Amber. The whole place is snowed in.” He chuckles. “The stars have aligned for me this week. People aren’t going to miss you, Amber. I already sent a text to your boss and let her know you’re not going to make it into work. She won’t expect you for a few days now. That’s enough time to show you that I am, and always have been, the man for you. I love you.” His voice cracks. “When Mum died it put a lot of things into perspective for me. Emily isn’t the girl I want. She’s not you, Amber. I love you so much that it hurts me, deep down like… like there are knives under my skin. That’s what it’s like being apart from you. God, Amber, I need you so much.” He falls silent and I hear him breathing hard. Then he seems to get hold of himself and calm down. “You can watch me through the camera feed. I’m going to take good care of your little girl. You’ll see that I’m the perfect man. A family man. A good father. I don’t care that she’s his; once we’re together, we’ll be a proper family. You’ll see.”

I want to scream at him to stay away from my daughter. I want to hurl the soup tin at the door and watch it explode. I want to beat my fists against the walls.

But I can’t.

He needs to think he’s winning me over. I know that screaming from this safe room isn’t going to do anything. We don’t have close neighbours and there’s no way sound would travel far enough. I’m powerless.

As soon as he’s gone, I rush to the computer monitors and watch my little girl’s shoulders hunch in fear as Peter emerges into the kitchen. Oh, my sweet baby, why didn’t you run?

He probably locked her in. The entire house is at his mercy since he changed the passcodes. How long has he been watching me? Has he followed me around, tracking my movements? Has he seen into my house? Watched me take the notebook out of my desk before logging onto my computer?

I think of him silently moving around the house while the lights were off. Emily made sure to give him plenty of time with us out of the house when she lured Sophie out into the snow.

I slump down on the chair by the screen and watch, eyes glued to the pixels in front of me. I turn up the volume again.

“Are you hungry, Sophie? I’m a very good cook,” Peter says.

Sophie shakes her head.

“What’s your favourite food?”

There’s a moment of silence before a tiny, high-pitched voice responds. “Chocolate cake.”

Peter claps his hands together in glee. “Excellent choice! Let’s see if we have enough ingredients to rustle one up.”

“Mummy bakes every week,” Sophie says. “We make brownies and cookies and muffins. She keeps stuff in that cupboard.”

I smile to myself. Good girl. Keep him busy. Challenge him. I’m in awe at her bravery. At her age I would be cowering under the table. I wonder if she will grasp an opportunity to get out if the moment arises. She just needs a chance. If she could get to a phone… Peter must have disconnected the landline. He’s also smart enough to keep all mobile phones away from her. There’s a spare laptop in my bedroom. Maybe she could send an email. But she doesn’t know how to send emails. I bite my lip. I don’t even have a way to communicate with her.

Peter grabs flour, eggs, and cocoa powder. It’s already obvious that he’s out of his depth, holding up different kinds of sugar to my daughter looking for her to lead him. I grab a bottle of water and watch, pulse pounding. At least she’s safe, I tell myself. He won’t harm her as long as I’m what he wants.

He won’t harm her.

If I repeat it, I might believe it.

Peter is staring at his phone while pouring flour into a bowl. Sophie watches him, her knees poking up above the table like she usually sits when she’s watching me cook. She’s beginning to relax. He’s not… he can’t be winning her over, can he?

I can’t think like that. I want to stop watching but I need to know she’s safe at all times. I grab a protein bar from the shelves. It’s important to keep my strength up. There’s going to come a time when it’s me against Peter, and I must win. On the screen, Sophie is laughing. I can’t help it, I start to cry. But tears are a waste of water. Anger is what fuels me. It’s the rage that will help me kill Peter before he kills me.

I have to finish the job that Honey started.