Page 6 of The Escape Artist

He'd never spoken to her like that in the basement. Of course not, he'd had the power then. He has to placate you now.

Claire just laughed. “Right. I'm going to let you go so you can hurt me again. Am I supposed to believe you're reformed? After me, you stopped torturing and killing women? You realized the error of your ways?”

“What's your name?” he asked, changing tactics. “My name...”

“Shut UP! If you speak your name I'll kill you. I swear to fuck I will. I NEVER want to hear your fucking name. EVER. Don't you try to humanize yourself. You're a fucking monster, and you know it!”

“I'm sorry,” he said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender.

No he wasn't, he was placating her.

“What's your name, then?” he said, trying again.

“You know my fucking name. You used to hiss it in my ear while you were...” she trailed off, unable to say the words. She turned away from him and took a deep breath, quickly wiping the tears that threatened to spill over. She was not going to cry in front of him anymore. She'd cried all the tears for him she would cry.

She had the power now. Not him. NOT him. But she was shaking. She could feel the light tremors in her arms. He must be able to see them. He was the one chained up, and he was going to break her again.

Never.

“It's okay if you don't have it in you to hurt me. I don't think you're that kind of person,” he said gently.

“Just shut the fuck up!” she screamed. “I should starve you, just like you starved me for the tiniest act of defiance.” She turned back to finish sweeping the stray shards into the dustpan.

“Look at me,” he said.

It was a fucking command. He thought he could order her around when he was the prisoner? But she turned and looked at him.

“I would never starve you. Ever,” he said, holding her gaze in his.

He'd already starved her, and they both knew it. These head games... she had to regroup her strategy or he was going to get inside her head and mess with it. If she lost her nerve... if he got free again, he'd kill her this time. She was already in too deep. She had to get her shit together and finish this. It was the only choice.

She didn't reply. She just took the dustpan and broom and left the cell.

Ari watched the door. She'd been gone a while. His first assessment of her was quickly fading, and now he realized how foolish it had been. This girl was not crazy. She wasn't some psycho out for vengeance or attention for some petty drama. This girl had been broken... by someone who no doubt looked a lot like him.

He'd seen the haunted expression in her eyes more than once already. She'd revealed precious few details but the very little she'd given up told him it was bad. Starvation. Probably beatings. Probably rape. How long had her captor had her? Ari wondered if she'd been planning revenge the whole time she'd been free.

Finally the door slid open. When she came in this time she held a whip.

“Don't get too excited, we aren't acting out your kinky fantasies, today,” she said.

Ari bit back the urge to say his kinky fantasies involved him holding the whip. It would end badly.

“I can take whatever you have to give,” he said. It was true. He had a high pain tolerance, and he doubted this girl had enough upper body strength to really make it hurt. If she got this out of her system, she'd break down, and then he could convince her he wasn't the guy who'd done this to her. He just needed to be patient and wait for her to break.

“Stand up,” she said. Her voice was surprisingly hard. Impressive even.

“Or what?” The retort slipped out involuntarily. What was this tiny slip of a girl going to do to make him comply with her demands?

The whip came down hard across his cheek.

“Owww, fucking bitch!” Ari kept forgetting they weren't playing by kink rules. This girl was serious, and she didn't care about the normal safe places to strike someone with a whip. She'd take any exposed skin he offered her.

“I can go for the face. Or your back. Your call.” Her resolve had hardened while she'd been outside the cell.

He wasn't about to sit here and let her slice his face to ribbons if he could stop it. Ari pressed his palms flat against the wall and inched his way up to a standing position.

“Good, now turn around.”

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