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Ilya waited until Charlie was out of sight, way up the stairs, then hurried along that long corridor where he saw what he thought was a side door that would lead him out of this shithole

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Ilya waited until Charlie was out of sight, way up the stairs, then hurried along that long corridor where he saw what he thought was a side door that would lead him out of this shithole. His footsteps were swift but quiet. Who knows what kind of freak Charlie was; he might hear him and tear him apart.

His watch abruptly beeped, yielding a jump from him.

"Shit, shit, shit," he muttered as he grappled with his device to shut it up.

The device stopped beeping. The number on the screen was 60. It wasn't as low as Ilya thought it would be by now. Maybe that drink Charlie gave him helped a bit, but still, Ilya was pushing his luck.

He was running on fumes.

With his heart pounding insanely in his little chest, Ilya reached the side door and grabbed the handle. He twisted it, but to his disappointment, it was locked. And the key was nowhere to be found.

"Fuck."

Time was running out. Charlie could be on his way down any minute now.

Ilya returned to the living room and tried to open the front door. He barely managed to get a hold of the handle with his sweaty jittery hands. Of course, the door was still locked. It jiggled a bit, making a slight sound that frightened him.

Ilya gaped at the stairs, hoping Charlie didn't hear that.

Still no sign of the big guy.

Ilya took a deep breath, then scanned around the door, left and right, up and down. He looked back up and found the key on a screw above the door. However, it was hanging way up for him to reach, but far enough for giant Charlie to reach.

Ilya gritted his teeth and quietly cursed. Then he turned around and found something that would help him reach the key—a sofa chair right next to the couch he had napped on.

With a weak grip from both hands, Ilya began pulling the chair to the door. Once it moved, small creatures ran out from under it, squealing and scattering everywhere.

"Eek!"

Ilya yelped and jumped away. He suppressed a squeak of revulsion behind a pout. His hands raised stiff and shook in disgust. Those icky rats scrambled in every direction, fully occupying the living room before they disappeared behind other pieces of furniture.

This house was full of trash, mold, cockroaches, and now rats! One of them even crawled on his shoe.

"Oh, God." Ilya swallowed bitterly. "That's so gross."

When the revulsion shock wore off, Ilya continued to drag the chair to the desired location. It only took a couple more pulls and Ilya was able to climb it and take the key.

"Yes," he excitedly whispered.

He hopped down and quickly inserted the key in the keyhole, twisting it and finally unlocking the front door.

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