The safe room. 


The thought came sharp, urgent, through the haze of terror. The agents had shown her once: a reinforced chamber hidden behind an upstairs closet. Inside, a generator. A gun. And most importantly, a panic button that would summon help. Help would take time to arrive, but it would come. She forced her legs to move, her socks silent on the floorboards. She navigated by touch, her hands skimming walls, furniture, doorframes. Her body trembled with every step. “Do you know why I’m here, sweetheart?” His voice drifted closer.  “Because family is everything. And you and me… we’re all that’s left.”  Her breath caught. She didn’t answer. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She reached the staircase. Her knees shook as she climbed, each step a battle not to scream. At the top, she groped along the wall until her fingers brushed the shallow ridge of the closet frame. She slipped inside, pulling the door shut. Heart hammering, she reached up, found the ledge she had memorized, and hauled herself through the hatch. Her arms strained, her chest burned, but desperation gave her strength. She pulled herself into the safe room and slammed the hatch closed. With shaking fingers, she twisted the lock. Finally, she let herself collapse. Her body curled tight against the cold metal wall. Safe. She was safe. 


Or so she told herself.