There is no escape. No way out. I try to quietly ease my body off the sofa, heart pounding, eyes sharp with fear. My breath sounds like a thundering herd of beasts stampeding away from a predator. I try to stop my breath all together, but it’s no use, my will for life betrays me and I let out a sharp, exhalation. Was I detected? No. My captor has not shifted gaze. Still transfixed on the images and shrill sounds coming from the television. My weight comes to rest completely on my sore feet. I’m up. I’m yet unseen. I edge quietly towards the kitchen. Not daring to look back. Fearful of what will happen if my movements are detected. I turn the corner into the dark kitchen and feel the cool linoleum under my toes. A wave relief flows through my core and I start my route towards the bathroom, but as I reach for the doorknob I hear it behind me. A scuddling and then a high pitched cry! “Mommy!” I’ve been detected. Yet another trip to the bathroom where I’ll be joined by my toddler.