It reminded me of a game Hannah and I invented when we were ten. We called it “monster.”

One afternoon when Hannah and I were sitting in my bedroom, she asked if I wanted to play. I stuck my head out and listened down the hallway before closing my bedroom door and securing the lock.

“Do you want to be the monster?” I asked excitedly. “Or will I?”

“I’ll be the monster.”

“Okay.” I smiled, sucking my lips in until they disappeared. I liked it best when she was the monster.

I lay down on the bed and raised my hands above my head, waiting motionless.

Hannah stood, looming over me, and tied my hands with a skipping rope. Once around the left hand, once around the right hand, then around both hands twice. She walked to the other side of the room. “Where’s my prisoner?” she snarled.

I didn’t say a word, but let out a small giggle.

She lowered herself down on all fours and started crawling toward the bed. One limb at a time, she climbed onto the mattress, twisting and growling.

She mounted me, straddling my body, her bare knees buckled on each side of my torso. Inching her face closer and closer, her long yellow hair cascaded alongside my face as if our heads were in a tent together. I could feel the warmth of her breath. She began kissing me. First on my cheeks and forehead, then she began gently pecking me on the lips. Pushing her wet tongue into my mouth, she let her hand trail down my stomach. My shirt had ridden up and my back was exposed, itchy against the crocheted blanket. Hannah slipped her hand under the waistband of my pants.

I was afraid that if I moved she would stop, so I ignored my desire to scratch. I held my breath and kissed her back. The white hairs on her legs softly brushed against my pale sides. My entire body felt flushed, as if I were a melting Popsicle. A ticking sensation, like the arm of a clock, began in my private area.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

Hannah hopped off of me and I quickly sat up, my wrists still tied.

“What?” I called, attempting to sound normal, but it came out high-pitched. I cleared my throat.

“Supper’s almost ready,” my mother called through the closed door. “Hannah, will you be joining us?”

“No, thank you,” she replied. “I should get home.”

Hannah stood, back on to me, adjusting her dress. I could see that her hair had tangled and I wanted to tell her, but nothing came out. Neither of us said anything. Without looking back, she hurried out of my room, shutting the door behind her.

Still bound, I began to pull at the knots with my back teeth.

Chapter 43

Jack called and asked me to meet him in the park. I had been up late the previous evening, finishing a term paper on psychopomps. School was closing in on winter break. I was exhausted and beginning to feel the effects of the changing season, which left me a little melancholic and despondent. I needed to see him.