Christine glanced back at the bed, holding her breath. It would be just like Damien to have let her get this far only to dash her hopes. But no, he was still motionless, secure in his belief that she was trapped. She felt a flash of smugness, thinking of how furious he would be, with her long gone. 'Don't get ahead of yourself,' she chided internally. There were still at least four more of them she had to sneak past. She wondered if it was day or night. There were no windows, and she had no idea if vampires were indeed nocturnal like in legends. She hoped it was day. She needed a crowd to disappear into.
She cast one final look over the room before slipping past the door, easing it shut behind her. She looked back and forth. She was standing in a hallway, dark enough that the passage disappeared into shadows long before the presumed end. She hesitated, undecided, praying for something to tell her where to go. But it remained deathly still and silent, so she slowly turned left. She walked gingerly across the carpeted floor, wincing with each quiet step. She held her breath, trying to calm her breathing. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, and every shadow looked almost human. She grit her teeth, glaring into the blackness. She'd never been afraid of the dark, and she wouldn't start now, with so much at stake. But then again, she'd never believed in vampires either.
She could see one or two doors to her right and left, but she didn't dare try them, instead choosing the relative safety of the empty hallway. She saw a slight light ahead, and her anxiety doubled. How far away could they hear her breathing, her heart? She tried to think back to how Damien acted, but she had been too afraid to have paid attention. She cursed herself for not preparing better. She forced her feet forward, pressing herself to the wall as a turn came into view. She froze for what felt like an eternity. She knew she only had so long until Damien woke up, but she couldn't seem to make herself peek around the corner. She listened intently, but could hear nothing, not that that meant much. 'Maybe I should just go back.' Her frightened mind now was wavering. Was escape worth the probable pain of capture? What did she even have back home anyways? 'Freedom,' she thought. 'You had freedom.' Damien's arrogant face flashed through her mind. She would NOT be his captive forever. That decided her.
She tentatively peeked the tiniest amount around the corner, and slowly slipped into what looked like a large living room. There were couches surrounding an empty fireplace, and a few bookshelves. The light came from a small chandelier that lowly lit the room. She let out hushed exhale of relief. The room was empty. Now she berated herself for the time wasted hiding around the corner. How long did she think she had? Damien could wake any minute!
With that in mind, she hurried across the room to a large door on the far side. She pulled it open, freezing at the loud click it made. She knew it was an illusion, but it seemed impossible that no one could hear the seemingly deafening sounds. She stared up at a long, wide staircase leading upwards. It ended at another, decidedly less decorated door. Looking back briefly, she slipped through and ran lightly up the staircase. She pressed her ear to the door and, hearing nothing, turned the knob. Locked. For a moment she cursed her bad luck, before hesitating. Locked meant secret, forbidden. A locked door could be her way out. She quietly tried simply forcing the knob to turn with all her might. It was a normal wood door, and she thought she could break it down, but she couldn't do so without being caught. She thought that picking the lock would work, but she had no idea where to start, particularly since she didn't have anything to pick a lock with. She decided, if she ever got out of this, to always wear hairpins in the future. She darted back down the stairs and glanced around, getting more and more tense every second. She hurried over to a desk at the far end of the room, rifling through the drawers. Paper, pens, and what looked like a diary. She paused for a moment, curious. She would feel ridiculously satisfied reading their deep dark secrets. She shoved away the idea: it was juvenile, and she didn't have the time in any case. Then she gave an internal cry of victory. Paperclips! She grabbed the small box and ran back through the room and up the stairs. She knelt by the door and unfolded two of the paperclips. She pushed one into the lock at the bottom, and poked the second in above it. She wriggled the clips around, to no avail. She tried to work them farther in, getting more and more frustrated. She pulled them out and tried reshaping her lock pick. After ten minutes of trying, she was almost in tears. She pressed her cheek to the floor next to the crack beneath the door, and she swore she could feel a draft. That decided her. She ran back down the stairs and grabbed one of the iron from next to the fireplace. A makeshift crowbar would hopefully go unheard. She headed back up the stairs, but froze halfway up as she heard the murmur of approaching voices. Despite herself, she let out a gasp of terror, and the voices stopped abruptly. Abandoning the fire iron, she bolted up the stairs and threw herself against the door. 'No no no no,' she panicked as she fell back, the door remaining closed. She slammed into the door twice more, looking down the stairs. Just as a face appeared, there was a loud crack, and Christine tumbled down onto pavement.
She immediately leapt to her feet, fear and joy battling within her. She was in an alley somewhere, but she was out! Judging by the light, it was very early morning, long before anyone was awake. She cursed internally, bolting down the alley towards what she hoped was somewhere she would be visible to others. She heard footsteps behind her, now multiple pairs, but she didn't dare look back. She tore around a corner onto a larger, but still deserted and dark, street; wherever she was, it certainly wasn't a nice neighborhood. She sprinted faster, her fear giving her strength. Dashing across the street, she followed the sounds of what seemed to be club or bar. 'People,' she thought desperately. 'All I have to do is find people, and they can't get me.'
Coming around another street corner, she saw the glowing lights and music that seemed to be a small, rundown bar. She ran towards the door, but skidded to a stop at the security guard standing in her way.
"Sorry, but we've had way too many teenagers down here gettin' us in trouble."
"What?! No, NO! I just, just need to get--" She could barely speak through her gasps and fear. She looked back, scanning the street, but couldn't see anyone but a few guys smoking in a dark corner. She turned back to the guard, trying to push past him.
