A girl's hands, trembling slightly, worked with desperate haste, tying knots one after another. The first bedsheet, then the next, unraveling until it stretched long enough to reach the ground, like Rapunzel’s hair. Perhaps she was Rapunzel after all, poised at the window of her own tower. She glanced into the mirror for one last time.

Tonight, she would finally break free. Break free from the fantasy he had painted so vividly, a fantasy she had almost believed was love. The eerie silence that permeated the house had everything to do with it. It was dark, dark enough for the girl.

She moved with the cautious grace of a cat—sly, quiet, with the noose of freedom clutched tightly in her hands. Slowly, she eased the window open. With the heavy weight of her eyes fixed on the distant ground, she jumped.