“No. What? Maeve, that’s crazy—it’s dark and there’s no heat in that place. Hasn’t been for days. It’s unusable.” He comes closer. “If you want to dance, you can dance for me.” When she doesn’t answer, he says it again: “Dance for me. I like watching you.”

Maeve nods.

“I know. That’s why you sent Sadie into my room, isn’t it? So that you could watch me.”

He says nothing, and she turns toward the door.

“You can’t go outside.” His voice rising behind her. “I won’t let you.” His hand on her shoulder now; she stumbles, spinning back.

“What happened to ‘We’re not animals’?”

She realizes she’s forgotten to smile.

“You’re so different. Like something changed,” he says. “I can’t figure out what you want. I mean, what?” He gives her hair a flick, but gently, off her shoulder. “What do you want? Do you even know?”

“I just—I don’t want to be cornered, okay?”

“Cornered?” He works the word in his mouth like it’s some other language. “Look, Maeve—” She starts to back away, but he’s already reaching for her again, his hand closing around her arm.

For a second, she’s back at the freezer door: the shine of Karo’s hair, slick as an oil spill, when Maeve bumped against her. How dark it must be inside when the door closes and locks.

Karo wedged the door open for her. Karo, in pain and perhaps delusional, made a choice to kill herself. There’s desperation in that story, but dignity too.

His grip on her arm tightens.

“Just come here, listen to me.” He pulls her in; he’s got her by both shoulders now. She turns her head away, or tries to. “Maeve, come on.”

His thumb in the soft place just under her collarbone, the hard tip of it pushing in. She brings her elbows up, adrenaline surging.

“Don’t—” Maeve pushes him off, hard. “Don’t ever touch me like that again.”

The force of it surprises him; he almost laughs. He grabs at her arm, her wrist. As she twists away, her palm splays, the long scar across it shining in the low light. She holds it up.

“My husband did that,” she says. “My ex. So do not touch me like that again. Get it?” She shakes him off.

“Maeve! Okay, I’m—”

He steps in again, and this time she backs up without tripping.

“I can’t stay here with you.”

His expression changes: slowly, like he’s only now realizing that she’s serious.

“Don’t be like this. Don’t!” With every step she takes away from him, he follows her. She’s not funny to him anymore. “Don’t do this.”

“You’re scaring me.”

“No, I’m not.” The words come so quickly she can’t respond. “Why are you trying to ruin this?”

He won’t slow down and she lifts an arm to protect herself. But then something changes—he closes the gap too fast. She catches him hard on the jaw.