The Housemaid: An absolutely addictive psychological thriller with a jaw-dropping twist

I forgot how amazing it is to sleep with my legs straight.

Okay, this cot is nothing special. It’s lumpy and the springs on the bed frame groan every time I move so much as a millimeter. But it is so much better than my car. And even more amazingly, if I need to use the bathroom during the night, it’s right next to me! I don’t have to drive around to find a rest stop and clutch my can of mace in my hand while emptying my bladder. I don’t even need mace anymore.

It feels so good to sleep in a normal bed that within seconds of my head hitting the pillow, I pass out.

When I open my eyes again, it’s still dark. I sit up in a panic, trying to remember where I am. All I know is I’m not in my car. It takes several seconds for the events of the last several days to come back to me. Nina offering me the job here. Moving out of my car. Falling asleep in an honest to goodness bed.

Gradually, my breathing slows.

I fumble on the dresser by my bed for the phone Nina bought me. The time is 3:46 in the morning. Not quite time to get up for the day. I shove the itchy covers off my legs and roll off the cot as my eyes adjust to the light from the moon filtering in through the tiny window. I’ll hit the bathroom, then I’ll try to fall back to sleep.

My feet creak against the bare floorboards of my tiny bedroom. I yawn, taking a second to stretch until my fingertips almost reach the lightbulbs on the ceiling. This room makes me feel like a giant.

I get to the door of my room and I grab the knob and…

It doesn’t turn.

The panic that had drained from my body when I realized where I was now escalates once again. The door is locked. The Winchesters locked me in this room. Nina locked me in this room. But why? Is this all some kind of sick game? Were they looking for some ex-con to trap in here—someone nobody would miss? My fingers brush against the scratch marks on the door, wondering who the last poor woman trapped in here has been.

I knew this had to be too good to be true. Even with the spectacularly dirty kitchen, this seemed like a dream job. I knew Nina had to have done a background check. She probably locked me in here, thinking nobody would ever miss me.

I flashback to ten years ago, the first night when the door to my cell slammed shut, and I knew this would be my home for a long time to come. I swore to myself that if I ever got out, I would never let myself be trapped in any situation ever again. Yet it’s less than a year after I got out, and here I am.

But I’ve got my phone. I can call 911.

I snatch up my phone from the dresser where I left it. I had a signal earlier today, but now there’s nothing. No bars. No signal.

I’m stuck here. With only one tiny window that doesn’t open, overlooking the backyard.

What am I going to do?

I reach for the doorknob one more time, wondering if I could somehow knock the door down. But this time, when I turn the knob sharply, it twists in my hand.

And the door pops open.

I stumble out into the hallway, breathing quickly. I stand there for a moment, as my heart rate slows to normal. 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.