The Housemaid (The Housemaid, #1)

by Freida McFadden

There’s something about this room that’s making a little ball of dread form in the pit of my stomach.

Do you know those movies about the scary cult of, like, creepy kids who can read minds and worship the devil and live in the cornfields or something? Well, if they were casting for one of those movies, this girl would get the part. They wouldn’t even have to audition her. They would take one look at her and be like, Yes, you are creepy girl number three.

As I shut the door, I notice marks in the wood. Long thin lines running down the length of the door at about the level of my shoulder. I run my fingers over the indentations. They almost seem like… Scratches. Like somebody was scraping at the door. Trying to get out.

I was never locked in the room after all. Nina didn’t have some crazy plot to trap me in there. The door was just stuck. But I can’t seem to shake that uneasy feeling. That I should get out of here while I still can.

Okay, this would be the moment I would turn into the Incredible Hulk.

“I’m afraid not,” I say. “Maybe next time, you should leave the girl you lock in the room with more water, so some will be left for you.”