Light comes here to die.
I’m convinced of it.
Everything, from the walls to the floors to the ceilings, isblack. Every chair and couch. Every shelf.All of it. Pitch, from top to bottom.
I shrink back as unease so potent it makes it hard to breathe tangles around my nerves.
“What’s wrong?” Malcolm asks me, for the second time in his life.
Swallowing hard, I whisper, “I have the distinct feeling if I step in there, I’m never stepping out.”
Coolly, he stops the elevator doors from closing by leaning against them. “You’re more than welcome to move in, little dove. Shall we tour to see which room you’d like to be yours?”
I neither move nor reply.
He muses, “Why, yes. I do suppose moving in with me already would be a bit fast, but I’m nothing if not invested in the thrill after a leap.”
“I’m not joking, crow.” My voice shakes. “If I step foot in there, I’m going to die.”
His smile fades. He draws his attention toward the ebony ceiling, then fixes it back on me. “How quickly?”
“What?”
“How quickly will you die?”
Heart in my throat, I say, “I don’t know. Immediately?”
He’s got his gloves on and a hand wrapped around my arm in seconds.
My stomach lurches, and I fight, but it’s no use. He yanks, and I tumble into the center of the void, just managing to catch myself on the arm of a couch.
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven…” Malcolm hums as the elevator doors slip shut behind us. “Well, we’re good and decently pastimmediate, wouldn’t you say?”
I whirl, but words dry up in my throat.
Cold as ice, Malcolm’s eyes are the only shred of color in the entirety of the space—if ashen blue can really be consideredcolorat all. “Feelings aren’t fact, dove. Think of how many things you’ve already survived, how many rules you’ve already broken with me. You already know how illogical your thoughts can be. Practice challenging them.”
As he slinks by, I choke on my fears. “You think it’s that easy?”
He starts climbing a set of slick spiraling stairs. “No, I don’t think it’seasy. I just think it’s possible.” Looming above me, he peers down his straight nose and says, “I believe you’re strong enough to do it.”
I stomp after him. “You have no idea what it’s like—being like this. I’m isolated. All the time. There are chains around my brain, and I can barely withstand their weight on the bad days. I’ve been a freak and a weirdo my entire life. People have pushed and taunted and made things worse on purpose because it’sfunnyto watch someone in pain. I spent my childhood horribly underweight, because no one would let me eat. They’d jeer and tease until I’d throw up.” My feet pound against every step, the vibrations echoing in my chest, mingling with the erratic stampede of my heart. “Someone wrotegermson my lunchbox, and I couldn’t touch it after that, so I left it at school, and my guardian punished me for losing it, and I spent the rest of high school without one. And you know something?”
He reaches the wide, dim hall at the top of the stairs and turns us up a path toward a set of ajar double doors displaying a jet bed within.
Fragile, I fight tears back in a futile effort to blockade my emotions. “You’re the worst bully I’ve ever met.”
He pauses, hand on the doorknob of the large bedroom. His icy eyes cut through me as he slowly murmurs, “You don’t…say?” He swings the door open wide and presents the room. “Bedroom number one. The master suite. It’s mine right now, obviously, but you’re welcome to it, considering you’re moving in.”
“I never said—”
“You said you couldn’t leave. I quite like that picture. So.” He splays his arm toward the black hole. “Peruse your options. I’m starting with the best of what I have, because you deserve nothing less. Two walk-in closets. An adjacent study with a modest library. I find the bathroom excessive, but no one can say it isn’t spacious. Just so you know, professionals come and clean while we’re at work, so everything is always immaculate.” He marches across the vast space, toward a set of crystal glass doors that open onto a short balcony. Throwing them open, he steps out into the sunset sky. Way up here, no city buildings mar the horizon. It’s just blue fading into splashes of pink and orange. It’s just paint-splattered clouds. It’s just him. Standing there. On a precipice overlooking air.
Throat dry, I say, “You can’t keep me here.”
He points. “I could, actually. With a fair amount of ease, if we’re being perfectly honest.” He leans back against the railing. “You’re a small woman. I’m a large man. You’ve just confessed to a lifetime without personal connections—no friends, no family…ifguardianis any indication. Realistically, how long do you think it would take for anyone to even realize you’re missing?”
My heart trembles, and the tears return to prick and sting.
