“I thought so. These four hours can be absolute torture for you, or they can be rather fun. What you’ll experience will depend on whether you give into it or resist. I recommend the former option.”

“Are you going to hurt me?”

I can barely hear my voice over the music and the moans and the pounding of my heart.

Shit. I was told not to talk.

He doesn’t reprimand me though.

“Yes.” He doesn’t bother to lie. “And you’re going to like it.”

17. Claire

17

CLAIRE

As he fastens the lined leather cuffs around my wrists—snug, but not uncomfortable—I watch his hands. Strong, with long fingers. Familiar.

Part of me wonders if I am deluding myself; if I’m just hoping it’s Keller so there’s something familiar in this madness. But no. It’s him, I just know it. Those fingers were on me, in me, only yesterday. And they made me feel exactly like this. A bit afraid, tingly with both anticipation and dread.

“Why the cuffs?” I ask. “I’m doing as I’m told.”

“I know you’re trying, little ghost,” he whispers in this metallic voice. “But weren’t you also told to shut up?”

My eyes snap to the mask.

It truly is him. I knew it, but the confirmation is welcome. Some of my tension eases. He won’t actually hurt me, I don't think. Not the way Cross might have.

“I’m binding you because however much you wish to be good for me, you’re going to try to bolt. I’m going to make you want to run away screaming. But you’re going to stay right here, for the next three hours and thirty-seven minutes, aren’t you?”

I made myself nod.

“And then you’ll keep your mouth shut about it, won’t you?” As he speaks, his fingers, done with the cuffs, slide along my arm, electrifying me. “You can reply.”

“Yes. I’ll never tell.”

“I am quite certain of that, Claire.” He chuckles. “Do you know why?”

I shake my head.

“Because the first person we’ll send the recording of what we’re doing to you will be your sweet old grandma. Then the boyfriend. Maybe even deadbeat Mom in New York. And every time you apply to a school, to a new job, every time you meet someone you get along with? They’ll get an email leading them straight to your little performance.” My heart drops. “You’ve proven yourself untrustworthy. The only way you stay here is if we have collateral to hold over your prissy little head.”

“I wouldn’t…”