39

Allison

For one blissful afternoon, I wasn't thinking about escape.

Now I can't get it out of my head.

There are a thousand ways out of this house, but none of them would work, and I'm pretty sure Gregory would chain me up in a bedroom if I made more noise.

But more than that, I keep thinking about the truck running into our SUV, about the gunshots, the bodies, the blood. I keep seeing the death all around me, and I'm terrified of what will happen if I let Paul get anywhere near me.

Gregory throws himself back into work the next day.

I mope around the house, feeling sorry for myself. Even Orin gives me space.

At least until Keely arrives.

She breezes into the house, looking glorious, dirty-blonde hair in thick ringlets, wearing designer everything from ears to toes. "Hello, hello," she says, kissing my cheek. "How are you, new sister?"

"Fine," I say, trying to be polite, but I can't let myself forget why she's here. "Gregory sent you, huh?"

"Gregory requested my help," she says, sound