We Told Six Lies(29)

His gloved hand was large, his fingers digging into her body. She tried to get a glimpse of what lay behind the mask, but he forced her to walk ahead of him.

Molly climbed the stairs slowly, feeling the size of him behind her. He wasn’t small, but since he wore a heavy black winter coat, she couldn’t tell just how big. Instead, she focused her gaze on what lay ahead—a second door, closed, with a sliver of light beneath it. An uncovered bulb shone over their heads, thick with dust. The steps creaked beneath their feet, and she found herself thinking that what lay behind that second door could be far worse than being trapped below ground.

She wanted to go back. She wanted to run. She wanted to turn and shove this guy down the stairs because she was not an item to be possessed. She was a human being. She didn’t deserve this.

Or did she?

“Keep walking,” he said, shoving her just hard enough in the spine that she had to move or risk falling forward.

She reached the top, and Blue pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the door, and pushed it open. The twosome came into a short hallway, and he motioned to the right. Molly walked ahead of him, her pulse racing, nails cutting into her palms.

She entered a small dining nook that flickered with light from a stone fireplace. There was a single window in the kitchen beyond the table, but it was boarded over. Were the other windows in the place boarded up, too?

He doesn’t live here, she realized. This is just a place he found.

She wanted to search every inch of the house, but her stomach growled when her eyes landed on the food. Oh God, food. A bowl of something thick and creamy wafted heat as if freshly poured. A tin mug of milk sat beside it, along with a wedge of crusty bread. Molly locked her eyes on the silver spoon sitting forlorn next to the bowl, and her mouth watered.

He waved his hand toward the food, and she rushed toward the table. Threw herself into the chair. She had the soup into her mouth before he could change his mind. And it was good. Wonderfully, body-shakingly good. It could be poisoned, she realized, but she didn’t think he would bring her all the way here just to end things in that way.

Before she could stop herself, a sigh of contentment escaped her. She covered her mouth and looked at him. Then she ate another bite, licked her lips, and decided to take a chance.

“It’s good,” she said.

He didn’t move, only leaned against the wall, watching her. She studied him swiftly, ran her eyes from his head to his toes. He was big, wasn’t he? Or was it just the light that—

He moved quickly, snatched something off the counter, and swept toward her as if he knew what she was doing.

His hand came down on her wrist, stopping her from taking another bite. She dropped the spoon and cried out. Clenched her eyes shut and waited for the blow to come.

She could feel him coming closer. Lowering his head until it was…where? Next to her? Behind her?

She had to look.

She opened her eyes and saw the side of his head next to hers, as if they were hand-in-hand at an art gallery, admiring the same painting. He tilted his head until his mouth was next to her ear. Though she fought the reaction, her entire body shook.

Slowly, he lifted that black contraption until it brushed her ear.

“Say my name,” he said into the device, his voice a robotic current that sent shivers down her back.

He gripped her wrist firmer. It didn’t hurt, but it seemed a promise that things could worsen if she didn’t listen.

“Say my name,” he repeated in a growl.

“B-blue,” she said, her voice quivering.

He lowered the device and cocked his head a little more as if she were the art he was most interested in seeing—Molly Beneath a Microscope.

She swallowed her fear, heard her father speaking in her opposite ear, reminding her to regain control of the situation. She turned to meet his gaze so that their eyes and nose and lips were a fraction apart, then lifted her chin as if accepting a challenge.

He startled but didn’t move.

He stared at her.

And she stared right back.

“Blue,” she said again, and her voice held not a single note of fear.

He bolted upright and stumbled away from her. Turned to face the way they’d come in, and didn’t utter another word.

Molly watched him for a moment, and then picked her utensil back up. Dipped it into the bowl. Lifted the soup to her mouth. And then she smiled—just a bit, just to herself—behind the spoon.





THEN


You looked like a beautiful nightmare that stepped, long-legged, from the recesses of my brain.

That’s what I thought when I saw you that night, dressed in a short white dress, your hair hanging over your breasts, your nails and lips painted ruby red. You looked like a girl who should never be trusted, and yet that’s what people did. They trusted you.

I had a pocket full of cash and good intentions. But those intentions vanished the moment I saw you in that dress. Then I thought—bare flesh, my hands on your body, your mouth on my neck.

“Are you sure you want to go here?” you asked.

And I responded, “You said it was your favorite.”

“I didn’t mean for you to—”

I stopped you with a kiss. Call me weird, but I wanted your lipstick on my skin. Wanted people to see us together, spot the red smears on my mouth, and envy me. No one had ever envied me.