Page 65 of Barbi and the Villain

I stop.

Meeting his eyes, I hold his gaze, unsure how to answer his question.

I am curious. I am also terrified of the answer.

“I must have caught a bug or something from you,” I mumble.

Placing his palm up, he materializes a small knife and offers it to me.

“Cut yourself,” he instructs.

“What? Are you crazy?”

“Cut yourself, Barbi,” he repeats, coming closer. He takes my hand and wraps it around the handle of the knife, placing the blade against my open palm.

“Uhm, Mr. Dark One, erm, Nykander… Maybe we can discuss this without sharp objects around… I’m sure we can come to an understanding and…” I mumble nervously.

He doesn’t listen. Instead, he forces the blade down my skin, cutting a straight line on the inside of my left palm.

I yelp in pain. He releases me and I stumble back, my expression a mix of shock and hurt that he would do something like that.

But then he raises his own left palm.

The same line appeared on his flesh, mirroring my own.

But just as it appears, it starts closing. The blood stops and the flesh mends together. And as his wound heals, so does mine.

I stare in shock at my palm. Only stains of blood remain, but no wound.

“How? What’s happening to me…” I whisper.

My cut appeared on his palm, and when his healed, mine healed too.

I grab the knife and cut again, this time somewhere less coincidental—my face. The blade digs into my cheek and I grit my teeth as I drag it down. My eyes are affixed to his face. The same cut appears on his cheek. As I cut my skin, his gets cut, too—even though there is no blade to cause the damage.

Whatever I do to my body is duplicated on his.

My body freezes in shock. The blade falls to the ground as I watch dumbstruck as his cut heals completely, and with it mine too.

We stare at each other. He has a grave look on his face; mine is one of disbelief.

“When you hurt, I hurt,” he speaks in a haunting voice as he comes toward me. “When you fell, I fell too, despite having my feet firmly planted on the ground.”

My eyes scan his bloody clothes, the patterns of bleeding unusually similar to the ones on my dress.

“I don’t understand. You’re saying that if I get hurt, you get hurt too? But how? Why? We’re nothing to each other.”

A sad smile tugs at his lips.

“As much as I would like to agree with your statement, I am afraid I cannot.”

“What do you mean?” I frown.

He takes a step toward me.

I gulp down, watching him warily.

He holds my gaze as he raises his hand.

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