His free hand went down and drew out the object dangling from a loop on his jumpsuit.

It was some type of sharpened metal rod, the oversized bit of a surgical drill, some orthopedic tool he must have scavenged from the operating room. It looked well over a foot long, an object designed for gouging large holes in cartilage and bone. He’s going to use that on me, her mind gibbered, this can’t be happening, you’re having a nightmare, Jolie, this doesn’t happen to girls from central Pennsylvania, wake up, for the love of God, wake up, WAKE UP—

Her eyes widened. Even screaming, the nightmare was still there.

“Stop! I can help you!”

The drill hung motionless below her, Snow’s face materializing next to it. “Pretty pie,” he said. “Mommy’s little love, Daddy’s little hope, twice as sweet as honey, twice as clean as soap.”

“Please.”

“What makes you think I need your help, pretty pie?”

“You…you made a map.”

“Map?”

“Of the hospital,” Jolie said, “on a Bible page, showing all the exits. So you could find your way out. The cops took it from you. I can help you get out.”

Now he was almost laughing. “What makes you think I want out?”

She stared at him.

“Oh, you can help me, all right, pretty pie.” He raised the drill bit up to her face. “You can put this in your mouth.”

“What?”

“Suck on it. You remember how to do that, don’t you?”

Before she quite knew it, Jolie found herself complying. She opened her mouth to respond and almost instantly felt curved metal press eagerly over her lips, clicking against her teeth, the hooked end of the drill bit grazing her tongue, triggering her gag reflex. She shut her eyes. It didn’t help. Not at all.

“Careful now. Don’t hurt yourself.”

She slipped a little and felt the drill bit twisting just barely, unexpectedly, nicking the inner velvet of her cheek. Salty blood trickled over her molars and down her throat. The drill withdrew.

Snow didn’t talk. Maybe it was the light, but his face appeared thinner, gaunter, some critical moment of slippage taking place. For the first time since the lights went out she was reminded of how sick Snow had looked when she had first laid eyes on him. He looked like that again, now, coming down off a manic cycle.

“Now get on down from there.” He raised the drill, blunt-end first. “Time to put the rest of the night into motion.”

“I don’t—”

She saw the blunt end coming at her, so close that she saw two of them, one on either side, then blackness.

CHAPTER 32

32.

Eli?