He stood. “Caitlin, my hand was raised.”

“And you can shove that right up your—”

His sharp punch connected with her left cheek. Her head snapped to the side, a mix of white hot pain and instant dizzy.

“When I raise my hand, you stop talking. Do I need to repeat myself?”

She rattled her head no.

“Good.” He sat back down. “It brings me no joy to hurt you. Rule two—eat what I give you, then place your empty plates and things in the drop.”

“What drop?”

“You haven’t seen the room yet, but you’ll be able to move around soon. Eventually, you’ll be allowed in the playroom as well. So follow rule two. Eat what I give you.”

Caitlin worked her jaw around, tasted blood.

“I know,” he said. “You have so many things you want to say, but I’ve got you hooked, right? You’re already considering logistics. It’s not just one room, but two. If there are two rooms, there must be a way out. You’re a smart woman. Sorry, not merely smart, you’re a genius, Caitlin. You’ll stop asking questions, and you’ll listen to my rules, placate me, bide your time. How am I doing—close?”

“Close.”

Branford looked pleased. “Do you know why I know what you’re thinking?”

Caitlin locked eyes with him. “Because you’re a genius too.”

He clapped once, rocked back in the chair. “Exactly, and you’re really going to take me to task.”

“By talking back while you torture me?”

“At first,” he said. “But we’ll get through this phase quickly if you accept the inevitable.”

“That I can’t escape?”

He shook his head no.

“Paige escaped.”

“If Paige escaped,” he said, leaning across the table again, “how come you’re here in her room, and she’s lying in pieces in the morgue?”

If Branford wanted to brag, she’d let him. He was right: she had hope.

“Fine,” she said. “I live in this room now, I follow the rules. You and I have talks until you decide to hit me or drug me to sleep so you can do whatever.”

“Your sarcasm doesn’t bother me because you’re on the right track. See, this was the problem with Paige. She didn’t get me.”

“And I do?”

“Oh Caitlin, I know you do. Go ahead, tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Who I am.”

“Don’t you have a class to teach?”

“Called in sick,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me who you think I am.”