Page 99 of Buried Beneath Sin

And I really wish it hadn't.

Less than a foot above me is a smooth, wooden, flat surface. Water stains are barely visible but there, and black mold lingersin patches. Less than a few inches on either side of me are wooden walls, just as moldy and water stained as the ceiling. Hanging on strategically placed nails are fairy lights, strung around the perimeter of the coffin I’m lying in.

“No...” My denial is a soft gasp of disbelief. “No, no, no.”

I reach up to brace my hands on the ceiling and push. It doesn't move. There's no giveat all. As if there was weight on it As if there wasdirtpiled on top. Oh god, am I buried alive? No, Knox wouldn't do this to me, would he?

“Knox?” I call out. My voice is raspy and weak. Even if there’s nothing on top keeping me sealed in here, I doubt he’ll hear me. I try again. “Knox? Can you hear me?”

I get no response. Straining, I try to listen for any movement. But it's utterly silent. Still. I might as well be in a soundproof box. Panic wells up, filling my chest like water pouring into a sinking ship.

“No, wait, please... Let me out!” My hands slap against the wooden barrier between me and freedom, beating at it. “Let me out! Please! Knox! Knox, can you hear me? Please, I'm sorry!”

I scream as my slapping becomes hard. The top doesn't move, and the sound is strangely stifled. Terror wraps itself around my heart, making it hard to breathe. My feet and legs join in on the effort to beat away at the lid of the coffin. It takes me several seconds to realize that the tip of my shoes aren't making contact with the lid—my bare toes are. I stop freaking out for a moment as I realize something.

Lifting my head, I look down at my body. Mynakedbody. For a second, I can't process this revelation. Knox stripped me? Why? My bottom lip trembles as tears leak from the corners of my eyes. Did he... assault me? I know I upset him, but to go this far? Taking a quick inventory, I realize there's no ache between my legs. There’s only a little relief that follows. Just becauseKnox didn’t penetrate me, who knows what he did do while I was knocked out.

My stomach violently clenches and I gasp, hoping to god I don't end up laying in my own vomit.

“Please,” I whisper to the lid. Swallowing, I force myself to speak out. “Open up. Let me out!”

I can't breathe. My short gasps of the stale air do nothing to quell the rising terror. And the stench? It's bad. So very bad. Judging by the interior and the state of it, this is a much older coffin that has been recently unoccupied by its original owner. I gag violently again. I'm going to suffocate—what a horrible way to die. The slow, agonizing death I’m about to suffer must be some type of karma for opening the door and letting murderers walk into my life. This was never going to work out. Why was I so naive? Was my desperation to feel connected to someone so great that I let it blind me?

I scream, furious at myself and at the Hunt twins for allowing Knox to do this to me. It's followed by another scream, this one twisted with anguish. I can't do this. I can't die like this. Why wouldn't they just stab me? Or break my neck? Something swift and less painful. My fists smash against the lid, as do my knees and feet as I fight the coffin lid and the dirt above it.

“Please, please! Not like this!” I screech.

How long have I been in here? It can't have been too long, right? How much air do I have left? Enough for a few hours? Or have I slept away, sucking in precious air, unaware that they would be my last few breaths? I groan. God, it's so hot down here... Weakly my arms drop to my sides as I attempt to catch my breath. Something crumples under my left hand. For a second, my panicked thoughts convince me it's a cockroach or some sort of bug. I scream, flinching away from the thing. Curling as best I can to look at it, I realize it's not a bug.

It's a balled up piece of paper.

Breathing hard, I reach down and pick it up. My hands tremble as I unroll the scrap of paper. Thanks to the battery-powered fairy lights someone so thoughtfully installed before burying me alive, I can just barely make out the words.

“Dear Beatrix,

So you thought you could spy on us? Well, the joke’s on you because now it’s our turn to watch. Currently, you reside six feet under. There’s a camera buried with you. Put on a show of a lifetime, and we may just let you out.”

Love,

Your stepbrothers & your bestie”

I reread the note, not processing the words properly the first time around. Nor do they sink in the second or third time. It's not until I read the note a fourth time that they sink in.

So... they aren't trying to kill me. At least, not actively. But Iamburied alive. The risk is there no matter what. Am I really six feet down? Or only a foot or two under the earth where they can get to me quickly if I cooperate? Without knowing how long I've been down here or how close by they are, time might not be on my side. I need to play to get out of here. The longer I wait, the closer I am to suffocating to death. I need to do what they say and get the hell out of here.

My heart is beating so swiftly that I swear the sound is bouncing off the walls around me.

Where is the camera? I look behind me but don't see anything. Carefully, I lift my head up as much as I can and scanthe rest of the coffin. There, above my left foot, set up to stare right between my legs, is a small camera. The red light is on, letting me know I'm being watched, or at least recorded. I’m hoping it's the former.

The string of lights certainly makes sense now. They aren't for me. They’re so Knox, and possibly the twins, can watch.

A soft sob works its way up my throat and out past my lips. I don't want to do this. This is insane. I have to get out of here. Yet it looks like the only way I'm going to escape is if I do as I’m told. Dread curdles and thickens in my gut as I think about what I have to do and who will be watching. They want my fear and my tears; they are probably banking on them.

As much as I would like to put a brave face on, they're going to get what they're after.

If this is what their life is like—revolving around situations like this—I can't do it. Every instinct in my body is on high alert and in survival mode. I have to get out of here.Now. Knowing what I have to do, I force my body to relax. It takes a second. Every muscle is locked up. Willing the tension in my legs, arms, gut, and back to ease is like working through a tangled ball of yarn. It takes precious time, many deep breaths, but finally, I'm able to lay here less stiff than the wood that confines me.

“Ok...” I gasp softly as I draw my knees up as far as they will go and allow them to fall to either side. Heat barrels up into my face as I lay in this humiliating position. Thatcher, Sagan, and Knox surely have the best view in the house. I can't remember a time I've felt so exposed and vulnerable—even with Trevor, Sebastian, and Patrick in my life. Resentment causes my heart rate to spike. How could they do this to me? I can hardly stand the shame lying like this, but I must if I'm going to survive.

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