“Really.” Have I gone too far? But Claus seems to be deep in thought. It’s time to use my tactics.

I have to handle this like the girl in the movie.

“I know you don’t want to do this,” I say quietly. “You’re not a bad person. You really helped me this afternoon. Thanks to you, I finally dared to stand up to Fender.”

Claus nods slowly.

I start crying. I don’t even have to try too hard. The tears weren’t that far away.

“Stop it,” he says quietly. “You know I can’t handle it when girls cry.”

“Sorry,” I say as I splutter and start to cough. Before long, I really will have breathing problems.

“Stop it,” says Claus.

“S-sorry,” I pant.

“Calm down.” I feel a hand on my head again, close to that painful wound. “Come on, calm down.”

He gently strokes from my forehead to the start of my braid, his hand moving slowly along the herringbone pattern. His touch disgusts me, but I force myself to stay calm. I don’t want him to suspect that this is all fake. I have to keep it up.

Claus’s hand stops at the tip of my braid. I hold my breath. Is he finally going to untie me? If he does, then the door’s not far. I can reach it before Claus realizes I’m making a run for it.

But then a sharp pain shoots through my skull, like my head’s splitting in two. Claus has grabbed my braid and is pulling my head back. Through a haze of tears, I see Claus’s face close to mine.

“Do you think I don’t know what you’re up to?” he hisses.

I try to shake my head, but immediately regret it. A new jolt of pain makes me gag.

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“You’re trying to mess with me.” Claus pulls my head back even more.

“No!” I scream. “I’m not! I’m not!”

“Do you think I’m stupid? Why would you kiss someone you hate?”

The kiss with Lucas. Claus saw us together.

“You’re one of them, so that makes you just as bad.” Claus pulls harder still. It feels like all my hair is coming away from my scalp.

“I’m sorry!”

“You really have no idea what happened that day.” Claus’s voice cracks.

“Then tell me,” I plead.

Claus lets go of me and I fall back onto the bed.

Weeping, I close my eyes and pull my legs up. The ropes slice viciously into my skin when I roll onto my side, but anything is better than looking at him.

Fender

I go downstairs and approach the receptionist.

“Excuse me, could I ask you something?”

“Of course. You played beautifully, by the way.”

It takes me a moment to realize she’s talking about my piano performance.