Lynell grits her teeth and keeps her eyes trained on Eric, trying to ignore the new pain.

“I really don’t want you to have to meet Arnold, though. So, I’m going to give Zach one more shot. But . . . that’ll have to wait for tomorrow. It’s late. Almost ten o’clock, and he needs his sleep. We all do.” Eric stands up and leans over Lynell. “As a gesture of good faith, I’ll let you off the bed,” he says, standing to undo the restraints. “Then maybe you’ll realize I’m not a villain.”

Lynell’s stomach tightens as Eric leans closer to her. She keeps her mouth clenched shut and her eyes trained on his.

“If Zach refuses to try again, you may have to meet Arnold,” Eric says as he undoes the last restraint on her foot. “Or worse, one of my men who has appreciated the fact that you’ve laid here willing and naked for so long.” Eric pats Lynell’s cheek, causing her face to heat up with fresh anger.

He steps away and heads for the door as he says, “I hope you’ll have a change of heart tomorrow.”

She leans in the corner of the room, inspecting her throbbing feet. She’s not sure when, but at some point, two of her toes were broken. There are also wounds on her wrists, ankles, thighs, and neck where the restraints used to be. Her hair is still wet.

She’s freezing. Hungry. Thirsty. In pain.

Terrified. Breaking.

She counts the seconds between each drop of water falling from her hair and hitting the floor.

One second.

Don’t give them the letter. Don’t give in.

Three seconds.

Stay strong. Stay alive. Don’t let them break you.

Four.

Don’t let them see the fear.

Two.

Don’t think about what’s next.

She sees Eric in her mind, leaning over her and promising her future forms of torture. She sees him telling her about Reggie and Arnold. About his men. And she knows her own thoughts are empty. She’s not going to last.

You made it through years of Alan. You made it this long. You can do this.

She shivers from the cold and holds her knees close to her chest. Her skin erupts in goosebumps and she shakes her head. She’s going to give him the letter. She knows it. She’s already reciting it in her head.

Don’t give up.

DAY 8

Lynell was riding her bike under a thicket of trees in the park. The wind tugged at her hair, tangling it behind her. Her shirt was fluttering around her waist and she stood up on the pedals, grinning. When she broke free from the shade of the trees, the sun rested gently on her face and she leaned back, closing her eyes for a minute to revel in the feeling on her skin.

She never saw him coming. Her bike slammed into his, and she flew over the handlebars, landing half on the sidewalk and half on the grass in front of him.