Chap­ter 30 unfolds with Patri­cia gripped by a surge of fear and uncer­tain­ty as she real­izes the depth of her per­ilous sit­u­a­tion. Her body feels par­a­lyzed as elec­tric­i­ty cours­es through her arms and legs, hold­ing her in place as her thoughts race. The chill­ing real­iza­tion dawns on her that at any moment, Slick might arrive at the back door, unknow­ing­ly lead­ing James straight to her. Patri­cia knows that Slick, unable to lie con­vinc­ing­ly, would inad­ver­tent­ly reveal that she was there to meet her, putting their escape plan at risk. The mount­ing dread is almost suf­fo­cat­ing, but Patri­cia focus­es, try­ing to main­tain con­trol over the chaos unfold­ing around her.

Lora, unex­pect­ed­ly appear­ing in the door­way of the guest room, adds to the ten­sion. Patricia’s heart races as she strug­gles to com­mu­ni­cate the urgency of the sit­u­a­tion to Lora, silent­ly plead­ing for her to under­stand. She watch­es, every mus­cle tense, as Lora takes a moment before respond­ing with a sub­tle move­ment, hold­ing out a gloved hand. Patri­cia, try­ing to keep her focus amidst the pan­ic, quick­ly grabs a ten-dol­lar bill and, with trem­bling hands, drops it into Lora’s palm, hop­ing the bribe will help them close off the attic stairs. The sec­onds stretch out as Patri­cia lis­tens intent­ly, her heart pound­ing in her chest. With a qui­et, almost imper­cep­ti­ble action, Lora shuts the trap­door, and for a fleet­ing moment, Patri­cia breathes a sigh of relief.

Despite the imme­di­ate dan­ger, Patri­cia knows that her task isn’t over. The suit­case, which holds the hor­ri­fy­ing evi­dence of Francine’s remains, must be care­ful­ly replaced to avoid dis­cov­ery by James. Her body aching from exhaus­tion, she strug­gles to move the heavy suit­case, each step a painful effort as she drags it back into place. The attic feels suf­fo­cat­ing, with the dim light cast­ing eerie shad­ows over the scene. Patricia’s hands are raw and cov­ered in dust as she con­tin­ues her task, deter­mined not to leave any trace of their pres­ence. In the dim, cramped space, moth­balls glit­ter like small pearls, a reminder of the heavy weight of the sit­u­a­tion. Despite the phys­i­cal pain and men­tal strain, Patri­cia per­se­veres, know­ing that this is their only chance to escape unde­tect­ed.

The sounds from below are grow­ing loud­er, each creak and groan of the house mak­ing Patricia’s heart race. She knows that James is just below her, search­ing, and it’s only a mat­ter of time before he remem­bers the attic and decides to inves­ti­gate. With each pass­ing sec­ond, her anx­i­ety grows as she tries to steady her breath­ing and main­tain con­trol. The muf­fled sounds of doors open­ing and clos­ing below her only height­en her sense of urgency. Her pulse quick­ens as she wor­ries that any mis­take could expose them. Every move­ment is cal­cu­lat­ed, every sound ampli­fied in the silent ten­sion of the attic.

In a des­per­ate attempt to erase any evi­dence of her pres­ence, Patri­cia metic­u­lous­ly brush­es away any trace of her actions. The white cock­roach poi­son is smeared across the floor, and drag marks from the suit­case are clear­ly vis­i­ble. With care­ful pre­ci­sion, she smooths the pow­der to dis­guise the trail, hop­ing that it will be enough to con­fuse any searchers. As she works, she becomes more aware of her surroundings—the musty smell of the attic, the insects crawl­ing over her body, and the ever-present fear that James could be inch­es away from dis­cov­er­ing her. Despite the hor­ror sur­round­ing her, Patri­cia remains focused, deter­mined to pro­tect her­self and her secret.

Patricia’s hid­ing place is cho­sen with care, but it’s not with­out its own dan­gers. She squeezes into a pile of old, rot­ting clothes, hop­ing it will shield her from view. The smell of decay fills her sens­es as she buries her­self deep­er into the pile, try­ing to make her­self as small as pos­si­ble. Her body shakes with fear, and the over­whelm­ing dis­com­fort of the sit­u­a­tion only ampli­fies her pan­ic. She can hear James’s voice, call­ing to her, taunt­ing her, and every part of her screams to flee, but she knows there’s nowhere to go. The ten­sion in the air is thick, and Patri­cia is trapped, rely­ing sole­ly on her wits and her deter­mi­na­tion to sur­vive.

The qui­et of the attic is bro­ken only by the occa­sion­al noise from below, the sounds of James search­ing and call­ing her name. The weight of the moment bears down on Patri­cia, but she forces her­self to remain still, know­ing that any move­ment could give her away. Her mind races, won­der­ing how much longer she can hold on before he dis­cov­ers her hid­ing spot. She knows that James is dan­ger­ous, and if he finds her, it could be the end. The min­utes stretch into what feels like hours, and Patricia’s body aches from stay­ing so still, but she doesn’t dare move.

Final­ly, the trap­door creaks open, and Patricia’s heart leaps into her throat. James is com­ing up. The moment she has feared has arrived, and she can hear his heavy foot­steps climb­ing the lad­der. The attic fills with light, and Patri­cia knows this is her last chance to remain unde­tect­ed. She lies per­fect­ly still, try­ing to blend into the pile of clothes, pray­ing that he won’t see her. As James’s voice calls out to her, his words taunt­ing and mock­ing, Patri­cia is forced to fight down the over­whelm­ing urge to scream. The insects crawl­ing over her body seem to press against her skin, a con­stant reminder of how trapped she tru­ly is. She holds her breath, hop­ing that the roach­es and spi­ders will not betray her posi­tion.

Patricia’s mind races, and she won­ders if there’s any way out. The silence that fol­lows James’s last call is deaf­en­ing, and Patri­cia won­ders if he has left or if he’s just bid­ing his time. Her body is stiff, every mus­cle aching from the ten­sion, but she knows she can­not move. She has to stay hid­den, to remain as still as pos­si­ble, and hope that James gives up and leaves. The uncer­tain­ty of her sit­u­a­tion is unbear­able, but she holds on, focus­ing on the faint sounds of move­ment beneath her, pray­ing for a chance to escape.