Page 73 of Irreversible

With my life.

“Okay,” I croak out, placing my fate in the hands of this elusive stranger. This brash, brilliant, confusing man. “Roger will bring me dinner in a few hours. I’ll make it happen. And then…I’ll see you soon.”

A few beats pass. “Yeah.”

I glance up at the camera. All video, no sound. Thank God for that. My captors feel untouchable, too arrogant to ever suspect that this broken-down model would have the brains to concoct an escape plan with the unruly man next door.

They’ll regret that one day.

I spend the next few hours pacing. I try to read, but the words bleed together, becoming illegible drivel, and I obtain nothing. Pacing some more, I fill my cheeks with a heavy breath and blow it out slowly. Isaac and I don’t talk much. I’m too on edge for chitchat, the anticipation of what I’m about to do spiraling me into a mess of anxious jitters. There is no room for slip-ups or falters. Everything hinges on this moment.

I can do this.

“I hear you pacing over there,” Isaac says, nearly three hours later.

I move in aimless circles, wringing my hands together. “I’m nervous.”

“I can distract you, if you want.”

Biting my lip, I almost smile. I’ve become well-versed in his version ofdistractions, and the offer is tempting. But I’m too wired for that. I can hardly remember how to breathe properly. “Sorry, but Chloe is out of the office at the moment.”

A light laugh travels over to me. “Nick must’ve really worn her out.”

“We can go with that.”

He hesitates. “You can do this, Everly.”

I stop pacing. A shaky breath journeys up my windpipe and hits the air like hope. Eyes falling shut, I drop my arms at my sides and curl my fists, allowing his words to give me strength. My body is weak, but I’ve spent years keeping my mind sharp, my wits keen.

Maybe all I needed was someone else to believe in me.

Licking my lips, I resume my pacing, walking up and down the length of the wall and dragging my fingertips along the cool surface. “I know how you can distract me.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“Conveniently enough, I’ve come prepared for bondage.” He rattles his cuff chain for effect.

This time, I do smile. “I’ll name a song, and you tell me something you associate with it.”

Isaac’s chain jingles again, lighter this time, and I imagine him twisting on his mattress to face our wall. “Not what I had in mind, but if that’s what gets you going.”

“All right.” I clear my throat, surprised he agreed. “‘Bad Moon Rising’ by Credence Clearwater.”

“A buddy of mine. He turned into an old married guy and got a boat. We’d go out on the lake every summer and blast CCR.”

A smile hints. “So, youdohave friends.”

“I had one, once upon a time, before life fucked me over and nothing mattered anymore.”

A twinge of heartache pinches me.

I want to know more; I want to know everything about him.

But that would be a mistake, and I’ve made far too many of those already. Even knowing his real name feels like something that will come back to haunt me one day.

“Do you think he’s looking for you right now?” I wonder.

---