"It's all right. They haven't found you yet."
The frantic, hoarse voice belied the smile on the face.
My heart stopped for a moment, then started over in a great pounding staccato rhythm. I stood in the shadows of one of the bedrooms in the old house. The old house that had been my home for the past two years. I wanted to run, but stayed still. I knew from the match smell that this part of the house had been searched. Now that I knew that he was on his way, I had no desire to be caught. I stood still, and looked for my next move out of the shadows of the bedroom, when another voice spoke.
"I'm afraid that I don't know what you're talking about." It was my mother's petite voice of reason.
"You don't?"
"No."
I could hear them talking in the hallway. I pressed against the hard wall to keep from moving, not yet. There was only one way out of that room, which was easily accessible. I could see a door on the other side of the bed and bed dresser on the right side of the room. It wasn't locked, because I had left it open. Window was on the opposite wall. I tried to realize why the person who had never before had made a secret finders call, was calling my mother. I knew that it would be no one that was personal to her. It was me, he was searching for.
"I know that you know where she is."
"I'm afraid you're mistaken."
"Why were you on that road after the storm?"
"The same reason that you were, I suppose."
I heard movement and voices in the hallway. He had to be there now, and I knew that the safe space I had found in the shadows of the room would soon be found by the monster with the voice I had never forgotten.
"I don't want to hurt you. Just tell me where she is."
"I'm sorry. I don't know what you're talking about."
The voices were closer and my heart pounded with fear. I couldn't let him find me now, or I was certain that I would never see the light again. With the camera that drew me to him once before in his great dark, I peered around the corner into the room. It was a huge bedroom with a huge four-poster bed. It had been my grandmother's, and was taken in the years between my parents' deaths. I walked to it, found a safety spot in the corner where I could see the door from the hallway and the window from the other side of the bed. I opened my bag and reached for my weapon, grateful to have it now. I had bought it for my last camping trip. My plan was to take a road trip after the funeral, and this would be just the thing for safety, because I had not been able to bring my gun with me since I was technically not an adult.
I looked around the room and noticed things that I hadn't before. The bed was a mess with the blankets tipped on top of its quilts, the coverings thrown everywhere in the storm that was raging outside. On the left side of the bed was the pillows where he and I had actually formed out of love. I thought of our last kiss, and I felt regret as I looked over to where I had seen him last. He had that window sill back then, but they moved my bedding to the front window in the storm that flooded their basement. It was open; I could see right out. From what I could see in the storm, I thought that I would be out of luck.
I knew that he would be looking for me there, but I took a chance that he wouldn't know that. I walked to the window and looked out. The storm was fierce, but with its blinding white light, it was only a matter of minutes before its fury would end, and I would be able to get away from him. I went to the window and pushed it open. It opened easily, and I realized that he had helped me in that one moment of selflessness in my life.
I stepped out onto the porch and saw the swirls of his slate-gray eyes and the determination that he had in his heart. He had never forgotten me, just as I had never forgotten him. Then I was aware of his monster form. He showed me his power, his desire to control me as he had never let me go. I stopped and thought before I stepped into my escape.
As I walked to the back porch, I slipped in the mud and landed in a puddle. It was shallow, but I was on my hands and knees trying to pull myself out of it. I had tripped over a log. As I pulled myself up and got to my feet, I heard him laugh. He was outside the back door of the house where I could see the end of his great head and pale yellow eyes. His claws had grown out of his fingertips, and I knew that he was ready to find me, but I also knew that if I did not go through the door that he could not get to me, and desperate times call for desperate measures. I knew that he would not let me leave without finding me, no matter what I had to do.
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