Page 51 of Entombed In Sin

As she turns and hurries out of the room, I scream behind my sealed lips.

Ten minutes later, I’m under the bright fluorescent lighting in the preparation room.

My anger and trepidation has started to ebb away. I can feel it leaking out of me like fluid from a punctured IV bag. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m too in awe at the bright colors floating like bubbles over my head, or because I trust that Starr Girl isn’t going to kill me. One hour, that’s what she said. I can deal with anything for an hour. I candothis. My confidence in my ability to handle almost anything heightens.

Or maybe it’s just the drugs working their magic.

I can hear Starr Girl moving around the room. Her footsteps are soft taps against the linoleum floor. She hums a tune I don’t recognize, but inwardly I smile at the soft melody. There’s a rustling of objects being moved and then the sound of something rolling toward me. A few of the bubbles over my head pop and it suddenly rains pinks and teals, greens and yellows splatter onto my face. It tickles my cheeks. If I could laugh, I would.

Starr Girl leans over me, blocking the view of the colors. She gives me a tentative smile.

“Ever since I saw you, I thought you were pretty, Knox. Pretty enough to be on my wall over there,” she waves her hand just out of my line of vision.

Her wall of deathisreally nice. My face would certainly make it better. The thought of a massive poster of my face between the other corpses makes me want to laugh. The sound is trapped behind my lips. Beatrix frowns, clearly unable to decipher the noise I’m making.

“I want you on my wall, but you’re notmypretty. This—” she waves a hand over my face, “—isn’t my doing. So I’m going to make you deathly beautiful.”

She turns and starts to move something around beside me. A second later, she’s leaning over me and cutting my shirt off my body. My heart pauses for half a beat in fear. She’s going to get me naked? For what? The fear disappears as my shirt falls away and the cool air warms my heated skin.

Oh, my skin can breathe. Good. It felt stifled.

“You left me naked down in that coffin, so now you get to be naked while I work.” Starr Girl gives me a pointed look I kind of deserve. “Be glad I’m not forcing you to masturbate.”

“I just wanted to see you freak out. I didn’t ask for you to touch yourself,” I want to tell her. Too bad my lips are sealed.

I stare at her profile while she cuts off my pants. She’s lucky these aren’t my favorite ones. They’re a bit too tight to conceal a knife, so I don’t wear them often. They’re too tight even for underwear, which is why I’m not wearing any. As they fall away, she gets a good look at my dick. I watch her face, waiting for a reaction. I don’t realize I’m waiting for more than that until she immediately looks away and my stomach unknots.

Wait… She’s not going to touch me? Not evenlook? I should be relieved she’s not going to castrate me, or ogle my amazing cock, or touch me. It would be the appropriate reaction. So why the hell do indignation and disbelief takeover?

Look at me, I urge with my eyes as Starr Girl puts the scissors down.Look at my dick, check out the jewelry there!It’s there for a reason, woman. Now look!

Starr Girl doesn’t even take a peek at my dick. As fucked up as this situation is, she seems to have some sort of moral code where drugging me and stripping me naked is ok but ogling my cock is too far.

Fucking moral code. Who the hell wants to carry one of those around? Besides accidentally leaving her in the ground longer than intended, I don’t think I’ve felt guilty for doing anything. The world and I don’t owe each other shit.

My gaze drifts back up, and those fun little colorful bubbles reappear, drifting over my head. Being offended at Starr Girl’s non-interest falls away as a pleasant wave of peace rolls through me.

There’s movement and suddenly Beatrix is climbing up onto the table with me. She straddles my naked body and settles carefully at my waist. She smiles down at me. It’s sweet and full of excitement.

“Sorry, I can work better at this angle. I don’t do this with the dead because it feels disrespectful, but since you’re alive, it’s a little less weird.” She shakes her head, as if the explanation isn’t necessary. “Anyway, because there's no body warmth in my usual clients, we have to use a special type of makeup. I’m going to see if I can still work with it on you.”

With that, she bends down over me and reaches forward. Inwardly, I flinch. Fuck, this is it. She’s going to touch me. My throat squeezes shut, and I suck in a deep breath to hold in my lungs. If I could wince or jerk away, I would.

The contact is light. Carefully, her fingertips brush across my forehead as she moves a strand of hair out of the way. The breath I’m holding expels only so I can suck in a fresh lungful of air in surprise. Starr Girl’s touch is both soothing and electric. How unexpected. Her gaze goes thoughtful as she runs the back of her hand down my cheek next. Our eyes meet as she pauses for a moment.

Keep going, I mentally urge. My face is a safe zone, so pain doesn’t follow when the twins touch me here. Their touch doesn’t feel like this, though. Beatrix is careful and gentle. She’snot demanding and or forceful like they would be. It’s a strangely nice change of pace.

Starr Girl’s gaze drops away from my eyes as her fingertips slide over my lips and then travel the length of my neck before she pulls away. In her touch’s wake, a tingling of warmth follows. Am I vibrating? It kind of feels like it. Warmth gathers beneath my skin and blood rushes to my face. The colorful bubbles behind Starr Girl’s head grow bigger, some randomly popping and showering us both with vivid colors. I giggle as the colors splatter around us. The sound causes her to smile. Apparently, a giggle is clearer to understand than a laugh.

“You know, I’ve never been in control before, of anyone or thing,” she says as she sits up and grabs a brush and makeup palette. She picks a color from the palette and dusts the bristles over it. She leans down and brushes it across my face. “This is… weird. I kind of like it. I wonder if this is how you three feel when you kill people. In charge, wholly in control…” Her voice trails off as she smiles while she works.

She’s not wrong. Always having the upper hand, knowing you’re about to steal someone’s life, is a power trip. Especially if they don’t see it coming.

“This is fun,” she says after a moment. “You’re like my doll. My perfect, pretty little doll.”

Her words do something funny to my gut. It twists, but not painfully. They also stir something in my chest. Is thatpridebubbling up? No. Maybe… Is that stupid? Probably. What’s weirder is that I’m enjoying this. I could probably sit here all day, even without the drugs, being doted upon. Shower me with attention and compliments, and I’m a happy camper, apparently.

“You have the prettiest freckles. They’re hard to see from far away, but like this they’re visible. You know, freckles are supposed to be a sign of…”

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