Maybe he's not heading for my room. Maybe he just wants to go to the bathroom. But the guest room, his room, is downstairs and has its own bathroom.

The stairs stop cracking.

He must be upstairs now.

Where did he go?

I jump when two silent knocks resonate from my bedroom door. A subdued voice follows. "Giselle?"

I hold my mouth and, unintentionally, my breath as well. I don't want to see him, neither will I find pleasure talking to him right now. After what seems an eternity, the wooden staircase starts cracking again. He's going back downstairs.

I look at my bedroom door, on whom shadows from the trees outside have depicted themselves. They do not dance tonight. I feel nauseous, thinking about tonight, but I ignore it when I grab my phone. Although it's half past eleven, Lucas wrote me back pretty quick, asking if I wanted to come over. A couple of his friends are staying over at his place. I write Lucas back saying I'm not sure Frank would let me leave. Almost immediately Lucas replies if he should pick me up. Hm. Remember what happened last time you came unannounced? Frank didn't take it very well...

But I do want to get out. Hanging out at Lucas' place with some other people sounds like a welcome distraction. I reply at his text: Would love that. But keep your distance. I'll sneak out.

I quickly change into grey jeans and a black tank top. I believe it's quite cold, so I get into a dark blue sweater as well. I'm putting on my boots when my phone lights up. Lucas. On my way. Be there in 15min.

Okay. Now what? I can't sneak past Frank and leave through the front door. Even if I would reach it, the alarm probably would go off. I can't just tell him I'm leaving in the middle of the night to hang out with Lucas and some friends. Even after what happened tonight, I'm pretty sure he's not going to let me go.

So I can't go downstairs and leave through the front door, with or without telling Frank. Who said you have to use a door?

I look at my window.

No way, I'm not doing that. You've done it before though.

I have indeed done it before: Around two years ago, at sixteen, I had a boyfriend who was two years older than me. One night in the summer, he drove with his motorcycle up to my window and proposed to take a ride together. I knew my dad wouldn't give me permission, so I sneaked out through my bedroom window. Not far from one of my windows, there is a huge and strong branch leaning against the outside wall. I got onto that branch and descended along the trunk. But because the tree is so big, I had to jump the last two meters or so. I fell on my arm and I broke it. My rebellious adventure will hopefully have a different ending now.

I put on my black jacket, but before zipping it up, I take my purse and press it against my belly underneath the jacket. I can't have something like a purse floating around when I'm climbing. Last, but not least, I put on my leather gloves. They will provide a better grip and my hands will undergo less pain when I have to hold onto a branch. Not to forget, it's pretty cold.

I zip up my jacket, with my small purse inside it, pressing against my belly. I tuck away my hair in my jacket, walk to the window and open it. Freezing cold stings in my face and a small cloud of white air escapes from my mouth. But there is still no wind.

I look behind my shoulder. Should I unlock the door?

I look back outside and take a step closer to the edge, so I can see the ground. I don't really care that much about Frank anymore: let him handle that door.

My body starts making adrenaline, processing the high altitude. Come on, Elle, it's not that high. I go stand in the window sill.

Okay. Let's do this.

I place my left foot on the outside sill and grab the edge of the wall. It's colder outside than I expected it would be. I place my feet carefully as I move along the outside wall, concentrating on not slipping. Step after step, I come closer to the ending of the narrow window sill. I quickly look down. Dizziness overwhelms me. I press my back against the outside wall and concentrate on keeping my nerves under control. Just keep going and don't look down anymore. I slide, still pressing myself against the wall, to the ending. Dammit. The branch looks further away than I can remember: it's located around four feet from where I'm standing, on the same height as my knees. For a brief moment, I regret executing this ambitious escape plan. I look to my window.

Am I giving up? Because this, what I'm doing now, could have a very unfavorable ending.

But what then, if I go back? There isn't another way to leave the house unnoticed.

So what's the strategy going to be, smartass?

There's only one way left. Let's be a rebel tonight.

I jump.