Ninety Minutes

This cannot be the life I envisioned for my six-year-old son and me. Hunter should be worrying about school and cartoons, not whether I’ll survive another night.

I’m chained to the floor of the master bedroom, staring at a door I haven’t walked through in months. Marcus keeps us separated. The only time I see Hunter is when Marcus leaves for his new girlfriend, locking my son in here with me for an hour and a half. Those ninety minutes are all I get to hear about his life and answer the questions he’s too scared to ask his dad.

Tomorrow Marcus is leaving again, and I have a plan. I need Hunter to bring me something to break or pick the ankle lock. The bed is the only thing within my reach.

I’ve lost track of time, measuring days by faint glimmers of sunlight through the curtains and the rare meal Marcus brings after dark.

Footsteps echo down the hallway. My stomach drops.

“Get on the bed, Lilly. Don’t try anything stupid, or I’ll take this food back,” Marcus warns, stepping inside.

I scramble onto the bed and sit directly in the middle. I close my eyes when the door opens.

“Well, look who’s being a good girl today. You must be starving after not eating for two days.”

My stomach cramps from the smell of food.

“Next time you try something like the other night, I’ll make it a week. You are mine, Lilly. I can do whatever I want with you. Do you understand?”

“I understand.” I lower my head.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

I slowly raise my eyes.

His fist comes toward my face. WHAM. My head jerks sideways. Blood starts running down my cheek, but I don’t move.

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“You better be sorry. And wipe that shit off your face. I didn’t hit you that hard. You’re always being dramatic.”

I use the bottom of my shirt to wipe the blood from my face and neck.

“Hunter is staying in here tomorrow,” Marcus says. “I’m going out later than usual, so he better be asleep when I get back.”

My heart jumps, but I keep my face still. “I understand.”

Marcus looks me up and down, reaching for his belt with a hungry stare. My whole body tightens. Then his phone rings his girlfriend.

“Well, duty calls,” he says. “We can continue this tomorrow. Don’t forget. Hunter better be asleep.”

“He will.”

The door closes. One lock clicks. Then another.

Tomorrow. This is perfect.

The next morning, sunlight pours through the curtains. I lie there planning every step.

My grandmother still owns an old house in the mountains of North Carolina. No one has lived there in almost fifteen years. She stopped staying there a long time ago, and even when she tried to sell it, nobody ever bought it. We’re all the way in Miami, so it would be a long drive, but worth it. My black SUV should still be parked outside, and I have an emergency credit card hidden inside. All I need are my keys.

The whole reason I came to Miami eight months ago was because Marcus told me he had changed. He said he wanted another chance to be a father to Hunter, and I believed him. I fell for the oldest trick in the book, and I have paid the price ever since.

Later that afternoon, I hear Marcus walking toward the room.

What if he notices something different about me? What if he decides not to go?

I have to act normal.

He opens the door, and Hunter is standing beside him.

“Hunter, Daddy has to go out. I won’t be back until later tonight, so you’re spending the night in Mommy’s room.”

Hunter’s entire face lights up. “I get to sleep with Mommy tonight? Yay! This is the best day ever!”

I smile at him. He has no idea. “Come here, pumpkin. Tell me about school.”

Before Hunter reaches me, Marcus stops him. “I’m leaving Mommy’s door open so you can get dinner out of the fridge. Do not leave this house.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

Marcus turns to leave, but before he does, he looks back at me with a stare that makes my stomach tighten. I keep my face blank until he finally walks away. A few seconds later, the front door slams shut.

“Mommy, I learned about adding big numbers today, like ten and twenty!”

“Oh my goodness, pumpkin. That’s amazing. Can you do Mommy a really big favor?”

“Yes.”

“Can you find a hammer? Like the ones we used when we built stuff?”

“I know where one is!”

Hunter runs down the hallway and returns carrying a hammer with both hands. “I found it! What are we gonna build?”

“We aren’t building anything. Mommy is going to try to get this lock off.”

Hunter’s smile disappears. “Daddy said if you ever did that, you would get really hurt.”

“He was trying to scare you. We’re going to Grandma’s old house.”

“Will Grandma be there? I miss her.”

“No, baby. But we can see her when we can. Now stand back, so Mommy doesn’t hit you.”

I swing. Miss. The hammer slams into my ankle.

“SHIT!”

“Mommy! Are you okay?”

“Yes. It just hurt a little.”

I swing again. CRACK. The lock bends.

One more hit. BANG. It breaks.

For a second, I just stare at it. I’m free.

“Hunter, get a bag and put all your clothes in it. Then grab your blanket and Mr. Penguin. Hurry.”

“Okay, Mommy!”

I rush to the kitchen and tear through the drawers, but my keys aren’t there. I run to Marcus’s dresser pulling the drawers open. Nothing in the first. Nothing in the second. Then I open the third and finally see them. THANK GOD.

“HUNTER! THREE MINUTES!”

“I CAN’T FIND MR. PENGUIN!” His voice cracks.

“It’s okay, pumpkin. Put your shoes on, then take your bag to the car. Mommy will find him.”

I search under the mattress, under the bed, in the closet, and through the laundry. Then I open the dryer. There he is.

“Thank God.”

I grab Mr. Penguin, some food, bottles of water, and the biggest kitchen knife I can find.

When I step outside, someone across the street is staring at me. I recognize him immediately: one of the men Marcus used to bring over to defile me.

“HUNTER! GET IN THE CAR! NOW!”

Hunter grabs his bag and runs toward the SUV. I rush after him with Mr. Penguin, the food, and everything else shoved against my chest.

“Stop right there, you little slut!” the man yells.

“Hurry, baby! Get inside!”

Hunter climbs into the back seat and shuts the door. I reach for the driver’s side handle. Locked.

“HUNTER! UNLOCK THE DOOR!”

“I’m trying, Mommy!”

I hear footsteps pounding against the pavement behind me. I look over my shoulder. He is already crossing the street.

“HUNTER, PRESS THE UNLOCK BUTTON!”

“I AM!”

The locks click. Then lock again.

“No! The other button, baby! The other one!”

The man gets closer. “I already called Marcus!” he yells. “You really think you’re getting away?”

“HUNTER, PLEASE!”

“I’m trying, Mommy!”

“When Marcus catches you, he won’t be the only one punishing you. You were always one of my favorites.”

My stomach turns. CLICK. The doors unlock.

“YES!”

I rip the driver’s door open and throw everything into the passenger seat. The neighbor reaches the SUV just as I slam the door shut. BANG. His hand hits the window. I lock the doors. He grabs the handle and jerks it hard.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”

Hunter starts crying in the back seat. “Mommy!”

“It’s okay, baby!”

The man pounds against the glass. “Marcus is going to find you!”

My hands shake so badly that I almost drop the keys. “Come on. Come on.”

The engine starts, and I slam the SUV into reverse. The neighbor jumps backward just in time. I reverse all the way down the driveway, turn hard, then throw the car into drive. In the mirror, I see him running toward his car. He reaches for the door, pulls the handle, and starts patting his pockets. It’s locked.

For once, something goes my way. I slam my foot onto the gas.

“Okay, pumpkin,” I say, my voice shaking. “We’re okay. Try to get some sleep.”

“Why are you crying, Mommy?”

I wipe my face with one hand and keep the other tight around the steering wheel. “Mommy is just really happy, baby. That’s all.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

I look in the rearview mirror and watch Hunter curl around Mr. Penguin. Then I look behind us. No car yet, but Marcus knows. And now we have to get as far away as possible. I turn on some quiet music, hoping it will calm my nerves and help Hunter stay asleep.

We have a long drive ahead of us.

Hours later, we finally reach the mountains. Grandma’s house looks worse than I remember. But it’s fine for now. I pull into the garage and close the door behind us. I cover the old beds with blankets, carry Hunter inside, and tuck Mr. Penguin into his arms. For the first time in months, I let myself believe something: We are safe.

“Mommy. Mommy, wake up.”

I jolt upright. “Yes? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Mommy. Look at this picture. It looks like me and you.”

Hunter hands me an old black-and-white photograph. He is not wrong—it’s a spitting image of us. I turn it over: 1868.

“That’s creepy,” I whisper. “Maybe they’re our relatives.”

Hunter points at the boy. “He looks like me.”

“That does look like us, pumpkin. Maybe we were meant to be here.”

He runs off to play, and I let myself think about what comes next. I need to check the rest of the house, figure out what still works. I can clean up most of the house and make this place feel a little more like a home.

I’m standing near the kitchen window, looking out at the yard and trying to imagine Hunter playing outside without having to be afraid, when something suddenly moves past the glass.

A shadow.

My whole body freezes. Marcus.

The thought hits me so fast that I don’t even question it. I grab the knife and hurry through the house, checking the rooms before stepping outside and searching the yard.

Nothing. No Marcus. No car. No one standing near the house.

I stay outside for a few seconds, listening, but all I hear are leaves moving in the wind.

Maybe I’m seeing things. After everything that has happened, perhaps my mind just hasn’t realized yet that I’m not trapped anymore.

I go back inside and force myself to calm down.

I start looking around the house; it has more character than I remember. There are little hidden cabinets built into the walls and small spaces that look like they were made to hide things.

I walk into the room I want to make his. It is small but big enough for a bed, a dresser, and all the Spider-Man stuff he has always wanted. I open the closet.

There are drawings on the wall. At first, I think they are old drawings from some child who lived here before.

Then I see the words: HUNTER AND MICKIE.

“Huh.”

I stare at the writing for a few seconds. Hunter’s name isn’t exactly rare. Maybe another Hunter lived here years ago. I’m probably overthinking it.

I push the closet door closed and walk back toward the living room.

“Are you hungry, pumpkin?” I ask. “I’m going to get some of the food we brought in from the car.”

“Yeah, Mommy.”

I turn toward the kitchen when I hear him behind me.

“OUCH!”

I spin around and hurry back. “What happened?”

Hunter is sitting on the floor, rubbing his foot. “I got up to get water and tripped. It felt like my sock got caught on something.”

I kneel beside him. “Are you okay?”

He nods, but I check his ankle anyway before looking down at the floor to see what he could have caught it on. I look toward the window. It’s already getting dark.

“Pumpkin, go get ready for bed. I’m going to get our dinner, then you can eat and get some sleep.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

He heads out of the room. As I turn to follow, I notice one of the floorboards sticking up slightly. I kneel down and lift it. Underneath is a small box covered in cobwebs. Inside are a few old wooden toy cars and a Polaroid.

I pick up the picture—my stomach drops. It is Hunter and me walking outside the house earlier today, wearing the same clothes, with Mr. Penguin tucked in his arms.

I turn it over: “THEY STILL DON’T KNOW. THEY WON’T GET TO KNOW.”

“What the hell?”

I shove everything back into the box and put the floorboard in place. For a second, I just sit there staring at it, trying to make sense of what I saw.

No. I can’t do this right now. Hunter still needs dinner, and we both need some sleep.

I stand up, brush the dust from my hands, and start toward the kitchen.

“Hunter, I’m going out to the SUV to grab our food. Finish getting ready for bed, okay?”

“Okay, Mommy.”

I grab the keys from the counter and head toward the garage.

BANG.

The sound comes from somewhere outside. I freeze.

Then I hear a voice. “Lilly…”

My blood runs cold. Marcus.

“You really thought you could run from me?” he calls from somewhere outside. “You know what happens when you make me angry.”

Another bang hits the side of the house.

My hands start shaking. “Hunter , grab your things and get in the car. Right now.”

“Mommy?”

“Go, baby. Get in the SUV and wait for me.”

Hunter starts toward the garage, then suddenly stops. “But Mommy, Mickie is here.”

“What?”

Hunter turns and waves. “Bye Mickie, see you later.”

There is no one there.

Then Marcus’s voice comes from outside again. “LILLY!”

“Hunter, get in the car! Now!”

I grab the keys and run toward the garage. Something hits my back hard enough to make me stumble.

“FUCK!”

I don’t turn around. I keep running, jump into the SUV, and slam the door behind me. Hunter is already buckled in. I start the engine and hit the gas.

I turn the key. The SUV engine turns over with a wet, heavy cough before roaring to life, its headlights cutting twin beams of pale light through the mountain mist.

"Buckle up, pumpkin," I whisper, my hands shaking so violently the keys rattle against the ignition. "Fasten it tight."

I slam the SUV into drive, clipping the garage frame with a sharp CRUNCH as we launch down the road. In the rearview mirror, Hunter sits wrapped in his blanket, clutching Mr. Penguin. The dashboard clock glows: 01:30 AM. Exactly ninety minutes since Marcus left.

"Mommy, why is there hair in the backseat?" Hunter asks quietly.

I freeze, my eyes darting to the mirror. "What, baby?"

"It's everywhere," he whispers, reaching down toward the floorboards. "Long black hair. It's tied around my ankles."

Cold dread floods my veins. I press the accelerator to the floor. Up ahead, a yellow sign flashes in the high beams: INTERSTATE 40 — 2 MILES. I take the sweeping ramp onto the highway, four wide, empty lanes stretching into the dark horizon. Ten minutes pass. Then fifteen. The speedometer needles at eighty.

Then, my headlights catch something on the shoulder.

A rusted, bent mailbox. An overgrown driveway.

I slam on the brakes, tires smoking as we skid to a dead halt. It's Grandma's house.

"No," I breathe, shaking my head. "I drove straight. I didn't turn around."

I throw the car into reverse, whip the wheel around, and slam the pedal down, speeding miles back in the opposite direction. I don't turn. I don't exit. But five minutes later, twin white posts appear through the fog. The rusted mailbox. The house. We are idling right in front of the dark porch once again.

"Mommy, we can't get out," Hunter says. His voice isn't coming from behind me anymore. It's coming from the passenger seat.

I whip my head over. Hunter is sitting beside me, but his eyes are fixed on the dashboard radio.

The digital clock isn't ticking. It reads: 00:00 AM.

The radio crackles to life, spitting wet static into the cabin. Beneath the noise, a familiar voice hums a low, quiet tune. It’s the lullaby I used to sing to Hunter when he was a baby.

"Look at the rear window, Lilly," the radio whispers in Marcus's voice.

I slowly raise my eyes to the rearview mirror.

Standing in the red glow of the SUV's taillights is a figure wrapped from head to toe in thick, heavy iron chains. In its right hand, it carries a heavy iron key on a ring. In its left hand, it holds a small, pale arm wearing Hunter's bright blue shirt.

I scream, reaching frantically for the door handle, but my fingers hit cold, unyielding iron.

I look down. My hands aren't on the steering wheel. They are bound together by thick, rusted links, welded directly to the floor.

"Mommy, look," Hunter whispers beside me. He raises his small hands they are chained to the glove compartment. "Daddy said we have to share the room tonight."

The SUV’s engine dies. The headlights extinguish, plunging us into absolute blackness.

From the ceiling right above my head, heavy metal boots begin to scrape across the roof, pacing slow, deliberate circles in the dark.

ONE. TWO.