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I’m dying anyway now.
He fixates me with glassy grim eyes, I stare back as if I was captured by the devil.
Hell. I probably am.
He stalks towards me, the same way he did the night he took me outside the nightclub. Only this time, I don’t back away.
“I gave you a valuable piece of advice and warned you against provoking me.” He stops a few inches closer. “Yet, you chose to disobey.”
“What did you expect, huh?” I throw my hands in the air, my voice anything but scared. “Did you think that I’ll wait for you to kill me like a lamb for slaughter? I told you that’s not going to happen, mister!”
He hums. My stomach sinks.
I need to stop the sassy attitude. It’s not playing in my favour at all.
His bottomless eyes bore into mine. He doesn’t move for several seconds, unblinking, as if he’s in the middle of watching the best scene in a film.
What could occupy a psycho’s mind, anyway?
“What are you thinking about?” I blurt before I can stop my mouth.
“A suitable way to punish you.” His gaze never leaves mine.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “A-Are you going to torture me?”
He nods, slow and deliberate, a smirk curving his lips.
Oh, God. I can’t take pain.
I open my mouth to argue when the only source of light in the room goes black. The whole place submits to punishing darkness. My heart slumps to my feet.
Don’t panic, Mae. Breathe in. Breathe out.
On instinct, my hands reach out until my fingertips brush against the material of my kidnapper’s shirt. I clutch it tight, edging closer.
“What’s going on?” My whisper haunts my own ears.
No answer.
No matter how stupid it is, both of my hands encircle his thick arm. I wish it’s Dad. No safety whatsoever comes from touching this man. But I get to focus on something other than the figures emerging from the black veil surrounding us.
A few moments later, yellowish light casts all over the room. I release a long sigh. I’ve never liked anything more than the dusty light-bulb.
“You’re afraid of the dark.”
My head strays to my kidnapper. I drop his arm and clear my throat.
His eyes glint. The same mysterious you’re-in-trouble sparkle he gave me yesterday. His lips curve int
o a devilish smirk, the clotted blood on his forehead accentuating his monstrosity. “Interesting.”
Why do I feel like I screwed up? Even worse than failing to run?
The last thing I see is him placing his hand in his trousers’ pocket before the room plunges into darkness.
I blink twice. No, it isn’t my imagination. My eyes are well and truly open. The damn place is black all over again.
“Come on!” I shout, voice shaky as my arms reach out for him.
