“You asshole.” I fling the bathroom door open, buttoning my jeans, prepared to give him hell. But he’s already gone—and, big surprise, he locked the door. I pound my fist against it as loud as my poor head will let me, but there’s no sound from the other side. Not even laughter.

Fuck this. I am sick to death of the way they’re treating me. I have a little money in the bank now—I need to go somewhere, anywhere. It’ll mean digging into my savings, but that’s still better than being stuck here with them, afraid to leave my room even when they decide to unlock the door.

A plan is already forming in my head by the time I sit down to put on my sneakers. I can’t get out through the door? Fine. The window will do. I didn’t spend all those years training to not be able to climb out a window and make it to the ground safely. Sure, I’m on the second floor, but a downspout runs alongside one of the windows, and I can shimmy down.

I open the window and lean out, testing it. It’s firmly attached to the side of the house. I grab my phone and tuck it into my back pocket before sitting on the windowsill, swiveling my body and ducking my head and shoulders out. It’s a little scary at first, especially since I’m still shaky from whatever drugs they gave me, but muscle memory is an amazing thing. I reach out with my right hand and foot and grab the metal tube, finding the closest bracket used to hold the spout in place. It’s attached to the wall and doesn’t budge when I put weight on it, so I brace my foot against it before swinging out the rest of the way and gripping the pipe like my life depends on it. Now that I’m out, it’s easy to climb down, almost like a ladder, my feet finding the rings screwed into the wall as I lower myself closer and closer to the ground. Finally, I hop the rest of the way down and wipe my hands on my jeans. No sweat.

Next step: getting an Uber out of here. I pull up the app on my phone, careful to duck under any windows I pass while walking alongside the house. I didn’t go to all that trouble for Colt or Nix to see me out here. Either I’m good at sneaking around, or they’re not paying attention. Either way, I make it to the driveway with no trouble and start walking down, glad to have the house behind me.