I know I’m going to die tonight. I know it’s true because he confessed to killing his first wife.

I’m hiding in the small coat closet of a cabin on a mountain. Alone. I hold my breath and close my eyes, wishing I could wake up from this nightmare. Dodging in the closet was a deadly mistake. I should have run into the thunder and rain of the forest. I’m trapped here, praying he thinks I’ve raced out the back door.   

I’d seen a light flash across the windows and looked out to see him in a hoody, bobbing over rocks with a flashlight. He must have done something to my closest friend or my parents to learn where and how to find me. I’ve done nothing but bring evil to those I love.

The cabin was supposed to be my one secret, grandfathered in on state land in the Adirondacks. It was the one cautious thing I did. It was supposed to be my refuge, my safe place. Soon it will be my tomb!

My parents never wanted me to date a former convict. They were alarmed when they heard I was writing Gronk in prison. Love blinders. It’s true! I’m the kind of girl, the one who should have rescued a puppy from the pound than write a man in prison who went there because of manslaughter charges against his former wife. They say he was driving too fast. He claims she grabbed the wheel. Next thing he wakes up in the trees with blood in his eyes and his wife is dead, head went through the windshield.  

Why did I fall in love with him through those mushy letters? He could string words like pearls. I should have spent my time and money on a shrink to get over my obsession with him, instead of helping him return to society. He doesn’t fit. And then his picture. Sure, he had tattoo’s, but those shimmering blue eyes disarmed me. When I had confided in my girlfriend about my prison romance and showed her a picture of him, she commented, “But they said Ted Bundy had pretty blue eyes too, didn’t they?”

I’m not going to get to write a book about how I survived my convict husband and share what I’ve learned. I’m going to pay the price in death. He’s going to kill me. What’s worse is, he can take his time. There’s no cell service within range. There wouldn’t be another neighbor for miles, and it’s not hunting season.

The pounding rain stops long enough for me to hear his footsteps creak on the hardwood. He’s whistling as my eyes follow his feet in the faint light from the kitchen. “Christie honey, I know you’re in here. I bet you didn’t go out in the rain. Clever move though, leaving the back door wide open. You should know that’s an open invitation for a black bear.”

He stops in front of the closet door, turns the knob. It’s locked from the inside. I squeeze the knife in my hand until it cuts me. I curl into a fetal position and pretend I’m invisible.

“Christie! I saw your water prints from your shoes. Come out. I think you’re in the closet. I promise I won’t hurt you. I just want to talk.”

 He knows! I’m good as dead. He’s going to kill me. My pulse pounds in my head.

He bangs on the door. “Christie, you know how easy it is to hide a body out here. I could sink you in this God forsaken lake or bury you under boulder! I just want you back. I was honest with you. I trusted you. I told you what happened. You’re the one that told me God can forgive any sin, but I didn’t think you would tell on me. You broke our trust. Did you actually think I would turn myself in?”

Thunder fades in the distance. He’s shuffling around the kitchen. He’s rummaging through drawers. My heart pounds like a punching bag inside.

Bang! Bang! He’s nailing a piece of wood over the door! The shiny nails poke through the wood. The closet shudders with every hit.

“I’m going to give you some time to think about our relationship. Maybe you’ll reconsider when you know I’m in charge. You are going to have to beg for forgiveness as a start. Then I might let you live awhile. I think I want to make love to you one more time after you drop some pounds in there. After all, you are my wife.” He laughs. “Come to think of it, you didn’t stop me before we tied the knot. I guess you couldn’t resist an ex-con.”

I’m a fool and a sinner. Now I’m going to pay with my life, after he tortures me. They let the devil out of prison, and I took him into my heart and home. If I want to live, I have to beg. “I love you. I would never turn you in Gronk, please!”

 “I want to believe you. I think I’m going to sleep on it. The rest should do us good.”

I want to live and love. I want children someday-with the right man. My eyes claw the darkness. I rake my fingers along the floorboards feeling for a crack or an opening.

Ureka! I realize my phone can be a light, but I'm afraid he will see the light and bust the door open. My chest tightens at the thought of him breaking through the door. If only I can find a crack in the floor, I could tunnel my way out in the crawl space to freedom. Then I would be free to die in the wilderness. But I'd rather die in God's wilderness than Gronk's grubby arms.

With my phone light I find a spongy floor board. I wish I had a gun, but wishing won't get me out of this. I do have a knife, but it causes jolts of pain in my chest knowing I should wait until he's asleep, afraid the digging will rouse him. I'm dizzy with fear, but feel adrenaline pumping through me. I got this! I have a way out. "Oh thank you Lord," I say quiet as a mouse.

As I dig to open the crack in the floorboard bigger, I realize it's not going to be easy. The stupid knife is dull. I couldn't slice a tomato with it. I dig in spurts, listening at the door, praying he doesn't shift or move toward me. It least the rain has stopped that was drowning all the other noises. I dig until I have to switch hands. My right throbs with pain. 

I have to stop and take deep breaths to bring my heart rate down. I have to get where I can pry a board or two out, so I can squeeze into the opening below. And I have to do it quiet as possible. I used to breathe into a paper bag. When I was on my own in my first apartment without Gronk, I'd hyperventilate whenever I got anxious about bills and being alone. I would nearly pass out. I can't pass out. I can't go to sleep.

It seems like hours, but its only been about a half hour, and I can see the dirt below with my light. I pry with my bruised hands and grunt. But I can't get the first one. I can't do it without beating it. I keep working the seam and the edges around the one board. I tug and pull with grinding pain. Then the board gives. There's a cracking sound from splitting wood. 

I listen. I hear Gronk's footsteps. I see his shadow under the door. "What's going on Christie? You can't get out. I put two boards across this door with nine inch nails. I knew you were in there!"

I slide back over into a corner. I still have work to do. I think about saying something, but I don't want him letting me out now. I know I can do this. I know I'm more than this dizzy brunette that dates losers. What he doesn't know is my Daddy taught me how to survive in the wild. I know if I get free, I'm in my element, and he's a city boy. If could just get out of here, I can survive. 

I feel tears burning on my cheeks as I wait and wait. I'm thinking about my mom and dad. He may have done something to them to get enough details of where I was hiding. Then I get angry. I want to prove to everyone I'm a survivor. 

What seems like an eternity, I finally can't wait any longer. The pain in my bladder has reached my back. I'm tempted to pee in this hole if it would help, but I get focused on digging at the cracked board. Yes! After I manage to pry a piece up, the edge is weak, I feel like I could jump on it and cave another board in. It's a game of life and death with how much noise I can make, but my heart is beating out of control. I twist pry at the boards until a chunk gives way. 

I freeze and listen. I don't hear anything. I'm shuddering on the inside. It feel like needles are floating inside my stomach. I can stick my feet inside the hole but my hips get stuck. Jammed! The jagged edges are ripping at my jeans. But I twist and fight until more of the board caves and hole opens up.

So close. I'm so close now. Sweat gets into my eyes blinding me, stinging me. I sip the stale air but can almost smell and taste the cold dirt at my feet. I get the top part of my body through ripping my blouse, cutting my ribs like a dull knife. I collapse into the dirt whole. I listen. Nothing. I dig through the dirt, slither like a snake, using my flashlight to find the nearest opening. By now the stars are blanketing the sky, and there's a faint light beyond. 

I slither and crawl until I'm almost there. A cobweb catches my face! My head bounces against a cross beam, and I yelp. Suddenly, I hear his feet below me. He's scrabbling above. I hear him ripping for the door of the closet. I dig and pull my way to the opening in the back of the cabin. I push past, eating webs and dirt, spewing them from my mouth, but I burst through the opening like a scared gopher. 

I bound upward from my soiled knees and look back to hear the sound of him ripping the boards off the door. I use my phone light and head straight for the crop of rocks near the cliff by the water. I run and stumble, dropping my phone. I fish for my phone, grab it and run, my face getting whipped by saplings. I turn and see his light aimed toward me, toward the thickets and trees. 

I'm running now until I see the shimmering reflection of the lake beneath the moon and a billion stars. I hear the pebbles beneath my feet roll and drop into the lake. I turn and take a deep breath. His light is almost on me! 

I jam the phone in my back pocket. The lake is so beautiful. I hear a loon with it's hypnotic sound break across the bow of my ears. 

If I die, I die free. I will never be held captive again. I will be free. I convince myself. I tell the LORD. "If I die, let it be thy will, Oh Lord."

I fall, a dead fall into the shimmering, slick, silvery lake, never more alive...

I'm free. I hear muffled voices almost muted by the water rushing past my ears. 

I hold my breath. Then I let go. I'm at peace. Darkness into light. Death has no sting. The grave has no victory...