Page 24 of Psycho

Psycho walks over to me, and I swear evil practically glows around him like some kind of neon warning sign. Before he says a word, I know his plans are diabolical. His lips pull up into a slight smile, but it’s his words that cause my head to spin.

“Little lamb, it’s time for ‘anything’.”

“What?”

If he’s planning on making me fuck my boss, I’m not doing it. Not a chance.

He chuckles, and shakes his head like I’m a disappointment.

“I asked you what you would do to prolong your life. You said anything. Now we will find out if that’s true. If it’s not, then I’ll kill you both, and be done with this. Stand up.”

Wrapping his hand around my bicep, he grips me hard, pulling me to the table where Easton lies petrified. His trembles are so intense, he looks like he’s having a seizure.

“If you look at his dick, you’ll be punished.”

Rolling my eyes, I say, “I don’t want anything to do with his dick.”

I’m still worried he plans to make me fuck my boss, but his last statement gives me a little hope.

Psycho reaches into his pocket and pulls out his knife, and now Easton isn’t the only one in this room shaking. I glance at his smug face, as he grins at me like he knows what a psychotic asshole he is.

“Do not, for a second, think you can overpower me. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, lamb. Open your hand.”

I do, while staring at him with confusion. He places the knife in my hand, and the lack of understanding grows. What the hell does he have planned?

“Cut him. Anywhere you want.”

All the air escapes my lungs, as I shake my head no. I am not stabbing a man. That is something Psycho does, not me. I have never hurt anyone in my life, if they hadn’t first hurt me. Not even when I had good reason to do so.

He tilts his head, while clicking his tongue in disapproval.

“What happens if you refuse an order, Anastasia?”

“You kill me,” I whisper.

He drags his fingers through his dark beard and nods.

“That’s right. Make your choice wisely, because you will not get another chance. Refuse me again, and you’ll die where you stand.”

I can do this, right? I cleaned deer with my dad when I was a kid, although the deer was already dead. Jesus, I can’t do this. Except I have to.

I take a deep breath, attempting to calm my nerves, which are beyond frayed at this point.

It’s just a different animal. Okay, he’s a human, not an animal, but that’s what I’ll have to tell myself to get through this. That’s the only way.

“You have five seconds to make a cut, little lamb. If you can’t do it though, it’s okay. I’ll be more than happy to slice your beautiful flesh again. Only this time it won’t be knife play, it'll be your death.”

I look down at the knife in my hand, and take another deep breath as I grip the handle. His name is engraved on the blade, and I arch an eyebrow.

“Afraid someone will mistake your knife for theirs?”

I roll my eyes, because it reminds me of the way your mom puts your name on everything when you’re little.

“Instead of being a bitch, try to be grateful. I let very few people use my knife.”

Am I tempted to tell him it’s a little strange, the way he is with a weapon used to torture people? Yes, but I know better, so I don’t.

I step closer to the table, and look down at Easton’s wide eyes.

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