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I will have to tell the police what he did to me. It’s like Joshua has shaped me into his own image; made me hard and selfish, a survivalist. It’s either him or me, so I choose me.
Nobody is answering me, and I can’t hear a thing. My throat hurts, so I stop screaming.
The trunk opens, and I lash out, and someone grabs my legs and drags me out of the car.
I look up at the handsome face looming over me.
He drops me on the ground with a painful thud.
“We need to change cars,” he says to me.
The sirens are closer. We’re on a dirt road hemmed in by trees, and light snow is drifting down on us now. I shiver and hug myself.
I look up at him, keeping my voice steady. “Joshua. The police are here. Just let me go, and I won’t say anything. Just like we agreed.”
He shakes his head, smiling.
“No need to pretend, princess. You know I’m not him. But I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Charlemagne. Or I was. I go by a different name now. You may call me Micah.”
My shoulders slump in despair.
“So Joshua is dead?” The thought makes me want to weep, or vomit.
I don’t want him to be dead.
I want him back. I want to hit him and hurt him and forgive him. I want to believe him. I want to trust him. I want to destroy him. I want him to really, truly love me, so we can be together forever.
“Of course not.” Charlemagne’s eyes glow with madness. “Don’t be an idiot. That would be way too fucking easy. He had me locked up like an animal, Tamara. Now that he’s fallen in love with you, I finally have the perfect weapon. I’m going to pay him back.”
He scoops me up in his arms. We’re on a narrow dirt road, and there’s a car parked up ahead—no, a van. I scream and struggle wildly as he opens up the back door, but he holds on to me easily.
Lying on the floor of the back of the van, I see a woman, hog-tied and gagged.
The shock of recognition punches me in the stomach.Heather.
No wonder she didn’t report me missing. Her eyes are huge with fright and she’s making desperate grunting noises.
It’s my fault she’s here. She’s going to die in agony, because of me.
Charlemagne holds up a syringe and horror rips me apart, and I scream and scream.
“Night night, Tamara.”
