Page 131 of I Will Break You

Her bedroom is a large, white-walled space that overlooks the street. Its entire left wall is covered in blown-up pictures of me from my cell.

“Where did you get those?” I ask.

“Amethyst posts them into a cloud drive so I can turn them into slideshows.” She whirls around, her chocolate eyes bright. “Have you ever seen any of her podcasts?”

“One of them.”

“Well, I made those backgrounds for her green screen.”

My jaw tightens. While I agreed Amethyst could use the photos, I didn’t give her permission to share them with third parties.

She shoves a large mug in my face. “Do you like my Xero cup?”

It’s a coffee mug with a shirtless picture of me, but with someone else’s bottom half. I can tell because his thighs are too oily and the narrow penis bends to the side.

“Where did you get this?”

“I use the pictures to create merch.”

“Merch?”

“I started an online store that sells pens, phone covers, notepads, key rings, mugs… that kind of shit. It’s still new, but people are eating it up.”

My jaw tightens. “That picture isn’t accurate.”

She giggles. “Of course not, silly. You’re twice as big as that porn star.”

“And how would you know that?” I ask.

With a happy squeal, she rushes to her nightstand and opens its drawer. All the blood drains from my face as I realize what she’s about to extract. When she produces the silicone mold of my cock, the edges of my vision turn red.

This woman who claims to know my soul is clearly begging for death.

“That solves the mystery of the missing dildo,” I mutter.

Her smile falters. “Do you mind? I mean, these kits are only fifty bucks. It’s no big deal.”

Now she’s minimizing her theft.

Interesting.

“But can you take it like a good girl?” I ask, my voice lowering several octaves.

Her eyes widen, and she draws back, her lashes lowering. It looks like an attempt to be seductive, but I feel too violated to care.

“Name the hole,” she replies, her voice thickening with lust.

I would rather gouge out my own eyes than watch this foulbitch take my dildo, but the punishment must fit the crime. She wanted a taste of my cock, and now she’ll choke on it.

“Mouth,” I say. “Show me what you’ve got and deep throat this dildo.”

“On the bed?”

I sweep a hand toward her little desk. “Over there.”

She saunters across the room, her gaze sweeping up and down my body once more. I hold still, my breath quickening at the thought of her impending demise.

A woman intelligent enough to have guessed my reason for getting caught should have also read the passage I wrote about McMurphy and the other officer who tried to remove my piercings. Or is she so deluded by her non-consensual, parasocial relationship with me that she doesn’t realize her life is in danger?

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