Counting Sheep

Chapter 15

It bathed the old 70's like interior and appliances.

Deciding on making homemade spaghetti, she began to boil a pot of water, broke the noodles in half before dropping them in the water.

She began to chop some vegetables for the salad. Red bell peppers, tomatoes, and olives before she decided she should go grab the hamburger meat from the freezer in the garage.

Humming to herself and trying to ignore the odd feeling that had started to turn her stomach, she turned on the garage light and stopped dead.

His car was parked inside.

He was home?

That bad feeling only intensified.

Slowly, she backed up back into the house and closed the garage door quietly. For some reason, she knew she needed to be quiet, but at the same time she knew that it wasn't that good of a chance that he hadn't already heard her banging around in the kitchen. She walked into the kitchen and grabbed a steak knife from the knife block and held it down to her side.

She went around the upstairs and found nothing, but she remembered how he had always told her to stay out of the basement—they were doing dangerous renovations.

Once Layla was standing in front of that door, she stared at it long and hard before she finally lifted her hand to grasp the old golden door knob.

It creaked open and her heart beat a little faster as she saw the stairs that led down to darkness. "You're only going to find renovations down there, Layla," She whispered to herself under her breath as she took the first step. "Only renovations."

Each step felt like she was bringing down a hammer onto the rickety old boards and she swore she shook so hard that her teeth rattled.

She was surprised with what she found as she took the last step.

Nothing.

Only a long corridor.

She stared at it hard, the flickering light making her feel like she was in some type of horror movie.

One step at a time Layla, she told herself.

At the end of this corridor, was a door. With each step she was getting closer and closer to that door and the feeling that was welling up inside of her only intensified. Before she knew it she was standing in front of the door.

With trembling hands, she pulled herself up to look into the glass window, tears filling her eyes so much that they blurred her vision.

What she saw made the blood drain from her face as she tried to keep breathing.

Mason was torturing a woman.

She lost her battle with consciousness right when she would have started running or screaming.

Everything blurred and dimmed, fading in and out.

The next time she opened her eyes, Mason was above her with a snarl on his lips. His hand around her throat.

Then, he dragged her into the room...

Layla slowly came back to herself, shaking away the memory as she slowly noticed that the water had long gone cold.

Shakily, she pushed herself up so that she was standing.

You are okay, Layla, she willed herself to believe. She forced herself to finish washing and while the cold water was hard to stand, it helped refresh her and clear her mind of the things that she so strongly wished she could forget.