I get to the top of the hill and look down into the valley below and see a sight that makes me burst into tears. A house, there is a house down there on the cleared land, an oasis in my hell. “Thank god,” I whisper as the tears roll down my face. “Thank you, thank you.”
I walk for another half an hour until I finally get to the house. It looked so close but it’s so far away. The house is in total darkness and I walk tentatively up the creaky front steps. It’s a large house with a big wrap-around verandah and there are rooms in the attic by the look of the windows jutting out of the tin roof. I open the heavy screen door and knock loudly. My heart is in my throat with fear, but I have to knock. I desperately need help. I can’t get out of here alone. I knock again and wait but an answer doesn’t come. “Please be home,” I whisper.
I follow the verandah around the side of the house and go to the back door and knock loudly on the door and wait. No answer again. What do I do? I sit on the back step and think for a moment. No one is home but I bet there is a telephone inside so I could ring the police. I stand and walk back around the verandah, peering in the windows. I just need to get into this house. I pick up a pot plant next to the front door and smash it through the glass. Then I put my hand through and unlatch the lock, jiggle the handle and it opens. Shit I did it. I walk in and feel around for a light switch on the wall to the right but nothing. I then feel around on the wall to my left and finally find some switches and turn them on and the house lights up. I smile broadly for the first time in two days.
“Hello,” I call out. “Is anyone home?”
Silence is the reply.
“Hello, I need your help. Please help me,” I call again as I look up the stairwell.
I wait for a reply. The last thing I need is to be mistaken for someone breaking in and shot on the spot.
“I have been kidnapped. Is anyone home? I just need to ring the police,” I call again.
Nobody’s home. Right, I need to find the phone. I walk through the house and make my way into the kitchen and I immediately open the fridge. Shit, no food. Nobody lives here-it must be a weekend cabin. I turn on the tap and thankfully water appears. I bend and drink straight from the tap. My eyes close in gratitude. Thank god, water-it tastes so good. Phone, I need to find the phone. My eyes search the kitchen and then I walk into the living area and I see the phone on the sideboard and I run and pick it up. No sound, oh no. I push on the receiver repeatedly as I try to get a dial tone… nothing. Shit, the phone has been disconnected. My eyes search the room for a computer or something, internet. There must be internet in this damn house somewhere. Nobody could stay out here in the sticks without internet, surely. There are three rooms off the hallway and I make my way down to them and check each of them. The first is a weird little room with a highback wing chair and an ottoman but no internet. The next room has nothing but bookshelves. I open the last room and I screw up my face in disgust. Animal heads are all mounted on the walls-he’s a hunter. The man who stays here is a hunter. My mind goes back to my fear of being eaten alive overnight, so I wasn’t frigging imagining it, and it could have easily happened. There are definitely huge wild animals around here.
I walk up the stairs and I find two large bedrooms and a bathroom and no damn computer. Oh my god. I stand in the hallway-what am I going to do? Shit, I walk back down, pick up the phone again and repeatedly bang on the receiver. “Why is there no fucking phone?” I yell to myself. “Seriously, can I get one break? This is bullshit.” I walk back into the kitchen with my hands on my head. What am I going to do? The rain is really coming down now and I look out the back window into the cold wet darkness. I can’t stay out there unprotected overnight but what if they come here looking for me?
This is a nightmare and I feel my heartrate pick back up. I thought I was saved… obviously not. I sit down at the dining table and pinch the bridge of my nose as I try to think. “Is there anything to eat?” I whisper to myself. I open the pantry and am blessed with the sight of several cans of various foods. I open the drawer, find a tin opener and open a can of baked beans. I eat them cold from the tin as I walk through the house.
I’m uncomfortable being here. If they come looking for me I’m screwed. I walk to the front door and look at the smashed glass in the window pane and the rain pouring heavily outside. God, I’m such an idiot. Why would I smash the window next to the front door? It’s a dead giveaway that I’m here. My fear starts to reignite again and I start to eat my baked beans at double speed. I need to get out of here. I will be found here and the smashed glass will let them know from what direction I have come. Fuck. My heart starts beating fast as I realise I have sabotaged myself with my stupidity. I walk back into the kitchen and open another can of beans and eat them as I walk upstairs to check to see if there are any shoes I can wear. I open the closet in the bedrooms. Nothing but men’s clothes. They will have to do-at least they are dry. I take off my cold wet clothes and my eyes go to the bathroom. I would kill for a hot shower right now. No. If they come when I’m in the shower I will have no chance. Who am I kidding? If they come here at all I’m dead meat. I hate this. I walk into the bathroom, get a towel from the cupboard, then I quickly undress and dry myself. I dress again into a large pair of men’s sweatpants, a white cotton shirt and a large woollen knitted sweater. There is a dark green beanie and I grab that too for when my hair dries. I run back down the stairs with renewed purpose.
I need to find some weapons to defend myself and I walk into the kitchen and open the second drawer. I have never been so glad to see the large collection of carving knives in my life. I slowly pick one out and grip my hand around the handle. The memory of stabbing Carl fills my mind and I close my eyes in disgust at myself. I will never as long as I live forget how a knife feels as it slices through flesh or forget seeing blood spurt from a wound. I shake my head in disgust at myself. “Stop it,” I snap out loud. “He deserved it-he was going to kill you,” I mutter to try and justify my brutality.