Page 20 of Bears Not Included

“Why are you doing this?”

“You trespassed on private property, pretty girl.”

“You must pay for your crime.”

“I made a mistake. But it was an innocent mistake.”

“It wasn’t innocent. Tell us the truth, and we might be more lenient with you.”

“I am telling you the truth. I have a fascination with fairytales like my mom—”

“You were looking for something else in this cottage. What was it?”

“No, I wanted to see the cottage as it is. That’s all. I shouldn’t have come inside. I’m not here to steal anything; you have to believe me. Please—”

“Enough. Empty the contents of the black bag into the bowl.”

At this point, I have nothing to lose. It’s over for me. How can I trust the madmen behind the camera and believe I’m not going to die? They’re probably laughing at my stupidity for believing them.

I tear open the bag and drop the contents into the bowl. I’m shocked at what I see and smell. Are those candy-coated sweets? They look like it and smell like it.

“Use a spoon and eat up, pretty girl.”

I scoop up a ball with the spoon that lays next to the bowl. I force myself not to shake, but the task of controlling my panic and fear is an impossible one.

I finally bring the spoon to my mouth. My lips part and I close my eyes as the candy makes contact with my tongue. It tastes exactly like candy, and as I bite into it, rich chocolate oozes out from the sugary shell. I’m frightened to death to swallow until the order comes.

“Swallow.”

It’s like swallowing tar, despite the sweetness of the candy.

“Now eat them all.”

I take the next one and then another until I’ve eaten all six candies in the bowl.

“Open your mouth.”

I bite the inside of my cheeks, barely holding onto the fury that is gaining traction inside me. If they want to see if I’ve eaten all the candy, they can come and look for themselves by showing up.

However, some intuitive force springs up on me like a torrential storm. I’m better off not knowing who is behind the camera. In the flesh, it would mean irreparable danger for me. So I do as I’m told. I open my mouth.

“Wider.”

“Stick your tongue out.”

I follow their instructions, but I hate them.

“Good girl.”

“What do I have to do now?” My tone is icy but also filled with apprehension and anxiety.

“Now we wait, Livia Daniels.”

Chapter Eleven

Livia

They know my name.

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