Through My Window Novels & Stories

I strained my ears, hoping to catch any distant noise or indication of the men's presence. To my surprise, I found a small window near the ceiling, obscured by grime and neglect. It was barely large enough for me to squeeze through, but it offered a glimmer of hope. I dragged a nearby crate beneath it, standing on it to reach the window. I tried to push it open, but it seemed stuck after years of disuse. Undeterred, I mustered all my strength, and with a final push, the window budged, allowing a sliver of cool night air to infiltrate the room. I took a moment to catch my breath, appreciating the freshness that filled my lungs.

The silence around me felt heavy and suffocating. As I gazed out of the window, I was filled with astonishment at the sight before me. Through the glass, I caught a glimpse of Sarah emerging from the front door of the house. The sunlight seemed to dance around her, illuminating the vibrant colors of her dress and casting a radiant glow around her.

*Poppy* I sat on the edge of my bed, staring out the window at the sprawling landscape beyond the mansion's walls. The sun was slowly sinking behind the distant mountains, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. It was beautiful and captivating, but I found no solace in the view. My mind was a tangled mess of worry and frustration, and the weight of uncertainty pressed heavily on my chest.

I prop Cree against the wall, his eyes fluttering closed. "Stay with me," I plead, shaking him gently. "We're so close." I search frantically for something to break the window, my eyes stinging from the smoke. A chunk of fallen ceiling debris catches my attention. I snatch it up, ignoring the searing pain as it burns my palm. With all the strength I can muster, I hurl the debris at the window. It cracks but doesn't shatter. I throw it again and again, desperation fueling each attempt. Finally, on the fourth try, the glass gives way, cool night air rushing in.

Even if I were to miss the tree, I wouldn’t likely break anything, especially since we have large topiaries against the brick walls. I should be fine. I can do the only thing between me and freedom is a pane of glass and a simple screen. It’s worth the risk. Even if I fall, I’ll at least be free. The latch springs open easily. The window is stiff, but with a little force, it is soon open wide enough for me to slither through.

I just want to be by myself right now. And I am still thinking about that when that beautiful, gorgeous face pops up in my head once again, and it makes me groan with so much annoyance. I don't know how, but I lift up my fist and punch against the glass window, shattering it into so many pieces as the debris falls right outside, and both of them look at me with wide eyes. Holy shit! I am finally brought back to the present as I look outside, observing the broken window in front of me.

The monster who took everything from me. I turn toward the window, my only connection to the outside world. The moonlight spills across the floor, casting eerie shadows that stretch toward me like ghostly fingers. The night is alive with the sounds of the forest—crickets chirping, the distant howl of a wolf, the rustling of leaves in the wind. The wind. My pulse quickens. If I can feel the wind, that means this window isn’t sealed shut. Moving quickly, I cross the room and press my hands against the wooden frame. The glass is old, the wood slightly warped. If I apply enough force—

I shift forward, eyes narrowing. Through the window, I can see the faint outline of a crib. Ariana’s shadow moves back and forth, slow, rhythmic, soothing. She’s singing. I can’t hear the words, but I know the melody. I press my hand against the cold windowpane of the car, fingers trembling. Something inside me twists tighter, darker. The glass fogs under my breath. I draw a line through it, just one, like I’m cutting the night in half. “Enjoy it while it lasts,” I murmur.

The chair, somehow, keeps growing. I walk to the window and press my palm flat to the glass. The view is unchanged. But it does not love me back.

He’d said he’d help me, no matter what. I stood up and walked to the window. It was old, with a wooden frame that had warped over the years. I’d climbed out of it a hundred times as a kid. I forced it open with both hands, biting back a gasp when the frame scraped skin from my palm. The drop into the yard knocked the breath from my lungs. I lay in the wet grass for one second, staring up at the dark window of the room where they expected a bride to wake. Then I stood.