Darkness Before Dawn

You'll see Unknown Caller on the screen, and you get up, turn the bathroom light on, lock the door and close it. Then you leave this room and go the back way to the right of the kitchen, everyone will be in the yard. You open the front door and fucking run— not walk, not jog—you fucking run, do you understand?" he whispers harshly.
    I nod, my eyes wide, mouth slack just staring at him. "And then what?" I whisper back softly.
    "You run out of the gates and make a right, my truck will be there. If you're not there twelve minutes after I call you, I'm coming for you."
    "Okay."
    "Okay? This is important shit, Blake. We can't fuck up," he says, his eyes growing serious. "Run it by me. Tell me everything you're going to do."
    So I do.
    Three times.
    I tell him step by step exactly what I'll do when the phone under my mattress vibrates. By the time I repeat it a third time, my words are strained and I have tears in my eyes because it's real and I can't believe I'm finally getting the hell out of here. As he stands up, he eyes me sadly and cups the back of my head, gently tugging the hair in my ponytail and tilting my head to place a soft kiss on the top of my head.
    "Everything will be fine, chick. I'll see you later," he whispers before walking out and closing the door. I hold my breath and lean forward on the mattress, sitting on pins and needles, waiting to hear whether or not the door will lock. When I can no longer hold my breath, I exhale, my heart beating erratically at the realization that he left it unlocked. This is real. I'm that much closer to my escape. After looking at the back of the door for what feels like an eternity, I stand and pace back and forth a couple of times while rubbing my lower back with both hands. I plop down on the mattress and look around the empty, dark room. The only light shining is coming from the squiggly lines on the messed up TV on the old brown dresser. I am so not going to miss this place. When the pain in my lower back begins to worsen again, I close my eyes and lie on the bed, placing an arm over my eyes even though I'm trying to fight my exhaustion in efforts to stay awake. I can't miss the call.
    Eventually, I gasp awake at muffled vibrations and sit up quickly, sliding my hand under the mattress to get the flip phone. My heart hammers against my chest when I read Unknown Caller on the screen. I clutch it in my hands and get up swiftly, moaning from the pain in my back that I no longer have time to worry about. I speed to the bathroom and flip the light on, look around and blink away the tears that threaten to surface as I recall the dreadful memories I've had in here. I turn around and step back into the room, locking and closing the bathroom door behind me. I leave the television on and put on the pair of tattered flip flops they gave me before heading to the door. I roll up my too-long-to-walk sweats up to my knees and place one hand on the knob, taking a deep breath.
    Butterflies swarm my core as I turn the doorknob and open the door slowly, sticking my head out to make sure nobody is around. I tiptoe out and close it quietly behind me before placing the lock on it. I allow myself to dwell on it for a couple of seconds before shaking my head and continuing to tiptoe toward the stairs. A shiver runs through me as I ascend to the main story of the house, standing for a count of two and rocking on my heels as I clutch on to the doorknob with a shaky hand. I slip off my sandals after I turn the knob and open it slightly, listening acutely to the muted conversations. I tuck my head in, tilting it to the right, then left before stepping out and shutting the door behind me. I stride to the right, walking as quickly as I can on the palms of my feet, passing the kitchen entrance, a formal living room, a dual staircase and lavish entryway before I reach the front door. The house is well lit but quiet on this side, just as Dean said it would be since the party is going on out back. I open the door and breathe a sigh of relief when the fresh air greets me. I bend down to slip my feet back into the sandals and look at the phone in my hand, but it's still blank. I contemplate opening it and calling the police, Cole, anybody, but Dean's words ring louder than my gut feeling, so I opt against it. I continue my walk across the vast lawn, listening to Frank's Sinatra's melodic voice and the mix of men's loud chatter and women's laughter.
    I am thoroughly disgusted that they are having a