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He says nothing in return.
“I’m not pregnant.”
He shrugs. “I know.”
“How?”
“I’ve been in your room each night and I have a very keen sense of smell.”
My jaw gapes in offense, but I can hardly argue with him. Having keen senses seems like it would go along with his skill set.
“I can’t have children.”
Again, he says nothing.
His silence is terrifying.
“Why are you here?”
“To show you my secrets.”
“Why do I feel like I’d be better off not knowing them?”
“Oh, trust me—you would be.”
“Then why show me at all?”
“Come with me.”
“What if I say no?”
“Then I’ll drag you.”
I consider his words, knowing he’ll make good on them. On the one hand, why make his demands easier? On the other, even though I’m fairly certain he won’t hurt me if I resist, I really don’t want to piss him off.
“Fine.”
I follow him down the dark corridor, and despite now having a flashlight, it’s a lot more terrifying.
Because I know where he means to bring me.
“I don’t want to go in there,” I say.
“But you must.”
“Why?”
“Because you need to understand my motives.”
“Can’t you just tell me?”
“Some things you have to see to fully understand.”
We stop at the door, but instead of muffled pleas, it’s silent.
“Is he dead?”
“No, but I must warn you, it smells like death in there. There are a few bodies, and the man stinks to high hell.”
