Page 28 of Bound to a Killer
The tiny sliver of hope I’ve clung to has dwindled as the day stretches on, cementing itself further inside the dark, windowless bathroom, but by now, the tears have run dry.
Humiliated, I abandon the partially filled bucket and step out of the bathroom, only to find the cabin empty.
The silence tells me he’s just outside the door, probably on a call. Teetering closer to the window, I hold my breath, silently praying that his back is to the glass so he doesn’t catch me creeping close to eavesdrop. I squint through the grimy film until I find him, his body slightly angled toward his car. Relief swoops through me. Nudging my ear closer, I strain to listen, hoping for anything useful to slip through, but his words are too muffled to understand.
Dust particles visibly float around, shimmering in the evening sun as they dance across my nose. As I inhale, I sense a sneeze coming and proactively pinch my nostrils to stifle its sound. Right on cue, he turns toward the window, but I don’tthink I duck fast enough for him to not see me standing there lurking.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
My skin begins to tingle. Heart racing as I silently continue to scold myself while remaining crouched low on the floor.
Seconds of dreadful silence stretch before I can hear his distant voice carrying on again, unintelligible but steady. Exhaling deeply, I lift my eyes to the plastic bag left on the table, inches in front of me, and decide to snoop through it instead.
With my heartbeat thumping loudly in my ears, I slowly inch forward with my knees still bent until I’m far enough away from the window before pulling myself up to a full stand. I reach out to the bag, my fingers grazing the white plastic as I peer inside, finding packets of oatmeal and peanut butter sandwiches crammed over a small stack of Styrofoam bowls and plastic spoons, all shuffled together after sliding out of their wrappers.
My stomach gives a low grumble as I push my hand inside, but quickly retract it when I hear the doorknob jostle open, fisting my hands at my side to keep them from trembling. My stomach clenches as he steps inside, his expression perfectly stoic and unreadable.
“Glad to see you on your feet again,” he says, his eyes pinning me in place.
The pounding in my ears persists, questions swirling inside my head, making me restless. I can’t push them away. I need answers. No matter what they’ll cost me for asking. I swallow hard as I match his stare, refusing to cower.
“Was the person on the phone the same guy from yesterday?”
He doesn’t answer. Dead-like eyes hold mine hostage. Unreadable.
Pushing through my nerves, I ask again, trying to keep aconciliatory tone, but my determination falters, my voice cracking at the end. “Why bring me here if you aren’t going to kill me?”
“My boss thinks you’re dead,” he offers reluctantly.
My fingers curl at my side. “Why’s that?”
“Because I told him so.”
He takes a step closer in my direction, sending my heart hammering so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t combust. Adrenaline takes flight in my chest, but my feet stay rooted. If he wanted to hurt me, he would’ve already. He closes the distance between us; if he’s trying to intimidate me, I don’t show that it’s working.
My voice is barely a whisper when I ask again, “But why?”
His eyes drop to my lips for a brief second before they trail back up to meet my gaze. My heart continues its frantic beating inside my chest; I’m almost sure he can hear it with how close we are, only a fraction of an inch away. Uncomfortably close.
“Why do you think?” he asks, leaning in to whisper against my ear. My heart leaps as I flinch instinctively at his nearness. “Don’t look so fucking scared.”
The shell of my ear turns hot as I feel his lips brush past it. His eyes dim as he pulls himself back, but I don’t give into his scare tactic, especially now that I’ve got him talking to me again.
“I’m not scared,” I say, crossing my arms. It’s too bad the hoarseness in my voice gives me away, but I push past it to keep momentum. “Why’d you lie about me, then?”
He gives me a faintly amused look before quietly sidestepping me, striding toward the fireplace at the other end of the room. His focus locks onto the diminishing flame as he rolls up his sleeves and drops to one knee, pulling a log from the crate at his side. He tosses it into the dwindling fire, then draws up a poker to nudge it deeper into the crackling embers. My eyes catch on the vein flexing in his forearm from where I stand.
My mind can’t fathom that this is the same man I once wasted long hours between classes daydreaming about. The image I built of him twist and melts, contorting into something unrecognizable. I don’t try to reconcile it. Adapting is all that’s left if I want to survive this. That part I know how to do. I’ve spent my whole life training for exactly that. This isn’t much different.
He glances over his shoulder the moment my leg shifts as I contemplate whether or not to move. “The less you know right now, the better. You’ll just have to trust me on this.”
I force myself to be still and brave a final question. “Are you going to tie me up again?”
He looks at me for a moment, thoughtful, then turns to get up. “Are you going to try to run away again?”
The flickering flames behind him cast a harsh shadow across his face, making him look almost devilish, yet equally flawless. I can’t help but find him mesmerizing despite it all. Satan was an angel once, before his fall. That means there has to be some good in everyone—even someone like him—or so I hope.
He’s helped me once before. That has to count for something.
