I crouched in the crevice of the chair’s back, my heart still hammering from the escape. Nate’s massive form loomed nearby, his slow breaths a reminder of the danger. Staying here wasn’t an option—too close, too risky. My eyes darted to the bed across the room, its rumpled sheets a distant haven. If I could get there, I’d be safe, far from the crushing weight of Nate’s oblivious movements.
Getting down from the chair was the first hurdle. The drop to the floor looked like a canyon from my tiny perspective, but I had no choice. I edged along the crevice, my raw hands gripping the chair’s coarse fabric for balance. The chair’s armrest was my best bet—a steep but manageable descent. I slid toward it, my legs dangling over the edge as I lowered myself, inch by inch, until my feet brushed the armrest’s surface. The chair creaked faintly under Nate’s weight, and I froze, glancing up. He didn’t stir. Good.
The floor was next. I scanned the armrest’s edge, spotting a frayed seam that offered a makeshift handhold. Clutching it, I rappelled down, my arms burning with the effort. My feet hit the hardwood floor with a soft thud, and I crouched, catching my breath. The bed loomed ahead, its wooden frame a towering cliff. I sprinted across the floor, my bare feet slapping against the cold wood, every step fueled by the need to put distance between me and Nate.
At the bed’s base, I faced a new problem: getting up. The mattress was too high to jump, and the frame offered no easy grips. My eyes caught a dangling power cord, snaking from the bedside lamp to the floor—a lifeline. I grabbed it, the rubbery texture rough against my palms, and began to climb. Hand over hand, I hauled myself up, my legs swinging as the cord swayed under my weight. Sweat stung my eyes, but I kept going, driven by the promise of safety.
Finally, I reached the mattress, pulling myself over the edge and collapsing onto the soft sheets. The bed stretched out like a vast plain, Nate’s indent form a distant mountain on the far side. I crept forward, sticking to the shadows of the rumpled fabric, until I found a fold to hide in. The bed was warm, the air less oppressive than the chair’s stifling cushion. I exhaled, my body trembling with relief.
Then, the chair creaked across the room. My head snapped up, eyes locking onto Nate’s silhouette. He shifted slightly, his arm dangling over the chair’s edge, but his breathing remained steady, unbroken. He hadn’t moved. I was safe—for now. I sank back into the sheets, my mind racing with what to do next, but at least I had distance, a moment to think.
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