Page 108 of Make Me Scream

I was leaning into Mundell’s car and then…

Then I was here.

And that voice belongs to-

“Mundell!” I shriek.

He laughs, his voice no longer distorted.

“From now on you call me master. Don’t make that mistake again.”

“Fuck you!”

Lane thinks he’s responsible for Anne’s death, but she didn’t commit suicide — Mundell abducted her!

Furious, I reach for one of the paintings, but an immense shock doubles me over.

“Do not touch those, Toy. They are irreplaceable. You are not.”

I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut. Ears ringing, I let out a pained wail.

What kind of fucking psycho is he? How is one of his paintings irreplaceable? Can’t he just make another?

“Why are you doing this?” I cry, trying to process the pain.

“Because you will be a perfect toy. You’re beautiful, talented, submissive — with a streak of defiance for me to tame. A delightful specimen. Lane wouldn’t have been so enamored with you otherwise. He has excellent taste.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind!”

I’m still on the ground when the jolt stabs through me.

“No!” Mundell growls. “I’m an artist, Toy. Few people in this world can appreciate it. You will. Lane would too, if he wasn’t such a hypocrite. I’ll show you. It’s rare to find a subject, a muse, who can also appreciate the work they inspire. That’s why I need you.”

He’s utterly, completely insane. I’m not going to appreciate a goddamn thing. I’m going to strangle him the first chance I get. If I can separate him from the controls of the collar…

“You need a small jail cell and an army of psychiatrists, you piece of shit.”

I wait for the spike of agony I know is coming. I don’t care, I’m not going to be his fucking toy.

“I know these first few days will be particularly difficult,” Mundell says. “But you’re making this far worse than it has to be. Unless you enjoy pure pain. Is that it? I assumed you would have some masochistic tendencies, but I’ve never had a toy who enjoyed the shock collar.”

“I’m going to enjoy gouging your eyes out.”

He laughs, but the sound ends abruptly, like rolling thunder that suddenly snaps off a bolt of lightning.

“Enough. Get up and go down the stairs,now, Toy.”

Fuck.

He’s not going to stop. Plus, getting a sense of this place could help me find a way out — if there is one.

Entering the stairwell, I look up just a moment. It rises several stories. Is this building that high up, or am I not on the ground floor? The galleries had no windows — it could be underground.

I walk down a level to find an open door waiting for me. Inside is a small, unfinished basement room: cement floors, bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. Domed security cameras observe the room from multiple locations. There’s a door opposite the one I came in, set between two jail cells facing each other.

One cell is occupied, the woman from thePetgallery paintings. Naked, she sits on a narrow bench, knees folded against her chest, staring down at the ground.

“Oh no,” I say, my voice soft and small. This is a dungeon. “Are you… are you Chloe?”

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