Page 196 of Deliverance

Wordless, Rhys leans one shoulder against the door, arms crossed on his chest, eyes hard and wandering.

“Is this not humiliating enough for you?” I extend both hands toward him, bound together and aching.

He lowers his gaze to my wrists, his head tilting again, then slowly moves back and closes the door, leaving it open a small crack.

As soon as the rasp of his footwear over floorboards dissolves into distant clamor of the TV, I pry the small cabinet above the sink open and scour through its contents. Toothpaste. Pills. Lotion. Travel size shampoo.

My fingers begin to shake when a burst of adrenaline shoots through my veins like fireworks. Time slips away from me all of a sudden. I turn around and fumble through the small shelf opposite the toilet, then draw aside a faded shower curtain and grab the first thing that my mind deems acceptable—a small yellow razor with rusted blades.

On the other side of the door, Rhys is back.

Without giving it much thought I quickly flush the toilet, then slide my find into my bra, the deteriorated metal dragging over my skin in the process.

It takes all my willpower not to make a sound.

Fix it later.What’s one cut against a dozen broken bones, anyway?

The door swings open.

“Feeling better?” Rhys smiles, but there’s nothing soft or cordial about his smile. On the contrary, it triggers an unwanted wave of nausea.

“Thanks.” I lower my gaze, fighting sickness.

He shakes his head and clutches my arm. Obediently, I get back to my spot on the bed, expecting him to tie me to the headboard again. Instead, he settles next to me and says, “Don’t you ever say I don’t have your best interests at heart, Andrea.”

My stomach tightens. There’s an opportunity here. A slim one, but worth a try.

“I know that, Rhys.” My voice is meek, just the way he likes it. “I’m sorry I was out of control. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“That’s the problem, babe. You never think.”

“You’re right.”

“Of course, I’m right.”

I’m not sure how to respond to that without getting off track except for spewing more apologies, which only feeds into his narcissism.

“I’m glad you’re finally coming to your senses.” He pats my knee, and this time, I don’t let his touch rattle me. I don’t move. I don’t let him see past my mask.

“I’d love to try your cooking,” I whisper. “I promise to behave.”

A long pause ensues. He stares at me for what seems like eternity, then rises to his feet and claps his hands. “Okay.” Another one of his horrific smiles makes an appearance. “But don’t even think about running. There’s nothing and no one for miles and it’s snowing. You’ll freeze to death before you reach our neighbors.”

His words shake me to the very core.

Shit plan, Drew.

I take a deep breath and nod. “I won’t run. I’m just hungry.”

As soon as he’s out of the room, I pluck the razor from my bra and try it against the plastic tie. The cut on the side of my breast isn’t deep, but it’s bleeding and the spot has grown visible against the turquoise fabric of my dress.

Holding the razor with my fingers proves to be challenging, so I shove the handle between my teeth and twist my wrists to find the right angle.

In the other room, Rhys is preparing a plate. I can hear the clink of the silverware against the counter and the croon of the microwave. He’s humming something as he continues to go through the motions of assembling dinner.

The razor slips from the tie and chafes a patch of skin on the inside of my forearm. I know it’s supposed to hurt. I can see red dots forming in the grove made by the blades, but I don’t have time to worry about minor injuries.

I need my hands free before Rhys comes back.

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