Every Vow You Break, стр. 65

She settled herself back onto the pillow, then realized she was hungry. She ate half the cheese, almost passed on eating an apple because of how loud it would be, but then did it anyway, chewing quietly and making sure she could hear Bruce’s snores while she was doing it.

She wrapped all the food back up, hoping that the smell of the cheddar cheese in the small space would dissipate, then closed her eyes again, drifting in and out of sleep until she heard a loud knock on the bunk door.

“You found her?” came Bruce’s querulous voice, muffled but clear. Abigail could hear the hope in his question. He was out of bed and at the door.

There was a response, but she couldn’t make out the words, then Bruce said, “You searched the girls’ camp?”

Again, she couldn’t hear whoever he was talking to. “Fine, I’ll be right up,” Bruce said, and then there was the sound of the door closing. He moved about the bunk, using the bathroom, grabbing some food from the kitchen. She thought maybe she was going to be spared the terror of his going through the closet, but he swung open the door, quickly rattled through some of his hanging clothes, grabbed something, and left, leaving the door open. She held her breath, then listened as he opened the front door and shut it behind him.

Abigail stayed crouched, barely moving, in the closet for what felt like an hour but was probably only fifteen minutes. Bruce had been headed to the main lodge, probably to discuss strategies for finding her. It was possible that he’d be back, but she doubted it. The search was the most important thing, and if they didn’t consider it a possibility that she was back in her own bunk, then she was safe, at least for a while.

It suddenly occurred to her that Bruce had opened the closet in order to get some clothing. She wondered if after she’d been subdued at the airfield he’d come back to the bunk and unpacked again. Or had he never packed in the first place, simply bringing along his empty suitcase as a ruse? And where was her suitcase now? Somewhere in this bunk, or in the lodge? She’d been thinking so much of the nightmare by the firepit that she’d almost forgotten that horrible moment at the airfield when she realized that she was simply a pawn in a cruel game. A bunch of men wanting to humiliate a woman. Or two women. Her and Jill. First play with them, then humiliate them, then make them think they were about to die. Abigail briefly thought about that moment, the fake knife, the certainty that her life was about to end, and the cold helplessness she had felt. And then she pushed it from her mind. What she needed to think about was how to get off this island. She wondered if she could play a waiting game of sorts. Hadn’t Chip said that a bunch of guests were due soon? No, that was most likely a lie. Even though this place probably had genuine guests, the real purpose of this island was as a place for a bunch of rich, sadistic men to toy with women. It was off the grid. No doubt the staff had to sign nondisclosure agreements. She would need to get off the island, one way or another.

Why had she not figured it all out earlier? Why had she not been immediately alarmed by the fact that the island was almost entirely populated by one gender? She remembered a story from childhood, a frog getting boiled alive in water that was slowly getting hotter and hotter, so slowly that he didn’t notice. Maybe that was her excuse. There were signs, but they were little ones. And now the water was boiling.

What movie am I in? she asked herself. She was hiding in a dark closet, and that made her think of Halloween, but that wasn’t right. She wasn’t being hunted by one psychopath, but by a group of them. In truth, it felt as though she were in a zombie movie, except the horde chasing her weren’t zombies. But that’s what it felt like. She was in a bad dream being chased through the dark.

As terrified as she was, there was a part of her that felt strangely alive. The fact that Bruce had spent the night just twenty feet from where she was hiding gave her a giddy sense of elation. She’d outsmarted them. It might be temporary, but she’d come this far, and, more than anything, she wanted to get off this island. It was her only purpose. Survival. Then revenge. And it was a purpose that she didn’t feel as though she was only trying on, like a new dress, or a new job, or a new boyfriend. This purpose fit her. She felt, right now, like all her life had been leading to this moment, crouched in the dark, a knife in her hand.

She crawled from the closet, then stood up, her knees clicking and her muscles stiff. The curtains at the front of the bunk were half pulled, but it was dawn outside, early morning light filtering through. She stretched her back and her legs, then used the bathroom. Peering out through a crack in the curtain nearest the unmade bed, she spotted someone crossing the lawn, dressed in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. He was too far away for Abigail to see who he was, or decide if he’d been one of the men who’d tortured her the night before. Even if he wasn’t, though, what difference did it make? Mellie hadn’t helped her and that meant no one would. She needed to wait until nighttime again. Her job right now was to survive the day, get some food and water inside of her. She was in the