Page 97 of Dance with Death

He won’t.

He wouldn’t.

Of course, he will.

I put my hands against the glass and push.

I expect the mirror to be heavy, but not to be immovable as it is. Maybe I just really am that weak now.

“Put your hands down, Anya. I haven’t finished tying it in place yet.”

Tying it in place?

I scream, “Let me out!”

“Hush,la mia bambola Russa.”

I scream.

I shout.

I squirm and thrash.

But there’s no point. My muscles are weak. My body is exhausted. Vigo can’t be persuaded once his mind is made up.

And I feel done.

I’m done.

I let my head fall back to rest against the tub and give myself up to the sobbing mess I’ve become.

The mirror shifts left and right, and I hear him loop the rope around, over the mirror, wrapping beneath the clawfoot tub to secure it. Over and over again the mirror shifts and he tugs the rope…shifts and tugs, shifts and tugs.

When the shifting finally stops, there’s a beat of silence in the room. It’s the strangest, most horrifying beat of silence I’ve ever experienced.

Is he gone?

Will this be it?

Spend a few hours in the tub and that’s all?

No, that can’t be.

Just as I’m about to take a breath to settle into the silence, he speaks. “I’m curious to know whether you have the strength to keep your head above water,bambola Russa. Has your brief encounter with the slave boy given you your fight back? I suppose we’ll find out soon enough. I’ve been wanting to do this since you tried to kill yourself last quarter. Poetic, isn’t it? To be trapped with your reflection considering you tried to kill yourself with the broken shards of it before.”

I open my mouth to scream at him at the exact moment that I hear the familiar squeak of the faucet handles being turned, at the exact moment water begins to flow heavy and fast from the spout into the small gap he’s left. Cold water pours onto my feet and I yank them back with a jerk, only to result in my body slipping farther down in the tub.

The water slowly warms to tepid as my panic overheats to boiling.

I scream.

I shout for help.

I beg for mercy.

The fabric of my dress saturates. A thin layer of water runs under my legs, spilling beneath my back and the pool starts to rise.

Slowly,slowly, the water rises.

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