My heart sank.
Something was pressed against it from the outside, like someone had shoved a heavy object right up against it.
Something.
I slid my bound hands up the doorframe, searching for a gap.Nothing.The lock was on the inside, but it didn’t matter.Even if I managed to unlock it, the door wasn’t going anywhere.
I pressed my forehead against the door, and pain shot through my skull so fast I saw stars.
I hissed and pulled back, breathing hard.
Okay.
“Don’t do that,” I whispered.
I turned my attention to the windows.
There were two on this side.One near the little kitchenette area, another near the bed.
Both were boarded up.
Not like someone had nailed plywood neatly over them.More like someone had slapped boards over the outside.Rough, uneven pieces of wood that covered the glass completely, leaving only thin slits of light at the edges.
I crawled to the window closest to me and ran my fingers along the frame.
No give.
No way to pry it open from the inside unless I became superhuman.
Even if I could, the boards would still block it.
I tried the other window, my movements growing more frantic despite my effort to stay calm.Same story.
Boarded.Sealed.Trapped.
My breath came faster.
I sat back on my heels and clenched my fists.
Okay.
So I wasn’t getting out through the door or windows.Not right now.That didn’t mean I was stuck forever.It meant I needed another plan.I glanced back at the food by the door.
The sandwich and chips felt like bait, but they were also fuel.If I wanted to survive long enough to get out, I needed energy.My body was already burning through reserves trying to heal whatever damage they’d done.
And I needed my mind clear.As clear as it could be with a concussion…
I crawled back to the door and grabbed the sandwich and chips, bringing them with me as I moved toward the bed.
The bed was shoved against the back wall, the thin mattress covered in a stained sheet that smelled like old sweat and mildew.There was a small table beside it, overturned, one leg snapped.A pile of clothes sat in the corner, half of them damp.
Everything about this camper screamed temporary.
Like they’d stolen it.Or found it.Or used it before.
It didn’t feel like someone’s home.
It felt like a place you didn’t care if you had to torch later.