We’re standing in a fully finished basement, and even with my growing dread threatening to choke me, I can’t help but be impressed with the setup. “I had no idea this was here,” I murmur, looking around, pretending to study everything when really, all I want to do is keep from looking at him. Unfortunately, it doesn’t mean I can avoid the weight of his stare. He watches my every move, and I can’t help but wish I had escaped only a few minutes sooner. I could have gotten away before he reached home.

One thing is for sure: he spent a lot of money down here. Large couches are arranged in a U-shape with reclining seats and cup holders between them like in a movie theater. If this were any other situation, I might even look forward to curling up on one of them under a blanket to watch a favorite movie on the enormous TV that spans most of the wall. Speakers are set up in the corners by the ceiling. “You could charge money to show movies down here,” I offer with a faint smile.

“You’re probably right. Now, we can enjoy it as a family, the way it was always intended.” He fiddles with the Blu-ray player in a cabinet under the TV. What am I going to do here? I guess there’s no choice but to sit and watch the movie, keep to myself as much as I can, and pray it’s over soon. Just being in the same room with him brings back all those terrible, panicky feelings, the fear, the certainty that I was about to die. My chest is so tight it takes a conscious effort to breathe. Am I going to have to spend the next hour and a half like this?

All things considered, that might be the best possible outcome. I’ll be lucky if all I have to struggle through is discomfort and fear.

“I even got a chick flick with you in mind.” He steps back from the Blu-ray player, wearing a look of satisfaction. “Fifty Shades of Grey.”

My stomach drops, and a cold, sick sweat begins to rise along the back of my neck and my temples. Not exactly the kind of movie I want to watch with him, much less his sons.

Footsteps on the stairs make my heart lurch, and a moment later, I find my stepbrothers coming down to join us. Along with them comes the aroma of popcorn, something I usually enjoy. Now? There’s no way I’m going to touch it. Who knows what they’ve put in it? What seemed like a sick, childish prank last night now has a much more sinister feel to it. I can’t trust a single person in this basement.