House at the End of the Street by Lily Blake, David Loucka, Jonathan Mostow Page B

it. He had only been seven years old. They had punished him for what had happened, and they would’ve kept punishing him if he hadn’t stopped it himself.
    When Weaver was completely still, Ryan let go of the blade, falling back on the floor. The smell of blood wasin the air. He hated it—he hated them. He took a breath, trying to calm himself as he sat there. It was over—Weaver was dead. They were all dead. He had stopped them.
    When he finally caught his breath, he wiped his hands on his pants, smearing them with blood. The wave of anger subsided for a moment. Then he pulled open the trapdoor, disappearing again below it.

R yan had been gone for several minutes. Elissa watched the officer appear and then disappear on the monitor, and now she could hear a scuffle somewhere above. She strained against the rope. She couldn’t move her hands at all, only her ankles. She kicked them away from the chair’s sturdy wooden legs, trying to loosen the bonds.
    A metal lamp was only a few inches away. It was three feet tall, the bulb exposed. She heaved and twisted her entire body, moving the chair just a little bit forward, toward the lamp. She pushed her ankle out, reaching with her toe until she kicked the lamp forward. It wobbled a bit. She kicked it again and again, until it fell toward her.
    The searing hot bulb landed on her forearm. The pain was excruciating. She winced against it, trying hard notto scream. She leaned forward, nudging the bulb a little farther down her arm until it landed on her wrist. The thin rope started to melt. The air filled with the smell of smoking plastic. She moved her wrist up and down, trying not to scream as the rope melted on her skin.
    The cell door had fallen closed. She heard the trapdoor creaking open and the heavy sound of footsteps on the ladder. She moved quickly, freeing her hand, then working at the other wrist, trying to untie the other rope. It took her a minute before she was able to unknot all three restraints. The skin on her arm still burned. It was red and swollen from where the bulb had touched it.
    The footsteps came closer. Elissa darted behind the door, pressing herself against the wall so he wouldn’t see her when he came in. She tried to stay perfectly still, even as the rough concrete dug into her back.
    Slowly, the door opened. She inched toward it, hiding against its cold metal back. Ryan stepped inside the small cell. Every muscle in her body tensed at the sight of him. There was blood all over his hands and on his jeans. He was hunched forward, his fingers gripping a knife. He took in the corners of the room—the twin bed, the chair where Elissa had been, the burnt rope. Before he could turn she darted around the door, pulling it shut behind her. She turned the lock quickly.
    Ryan pounded his fists violently against it. He threw his whole weight into it, shaking the wall. She climbed theladder as fast as she could and let the trapdoor fall flat. She took in the dank basement. It was then that she saw the officer’s body. Blood pooled around his right side. His eyes were still open. Her fingers tensed in a fist.
    She looked around the room, trying to find something to seal the trapdoor shut. Ryan was screaming in the cell below. Her head still ached. Now that she was standing, dizziness threatened to overtake her. She grabbed the edges of the washing machine, trying to steady herself. She took a deep breath and with a few hard pulls she managed to get it a few feet from the wall. Then she went behind it, toppling it over the trapdoor to weigh it down.
    She darted up the basement stairs, feeling for the knob. She twisted it, but it didn’t give. She tried it again and again but it still wouldn’t open. Her heart was racing, her entire body shaking with the realization: She was completely trapped.
    She went back down the stairs, feeling at the officer’s waist. His gun was gone. He had handcuffs, a few bullets in a leather case, and a flashlight. She tried his