Page 115 of Make Me Scream

“Blue.”

“Are you seeing it from ground level, or from the air?”

“From the air.”

He nods, letting me go.

“Do you know what I see, Toy?”

“No.”

“Nothing. My mind’s eye is empty.”

Just like his soul, I guess.

“It’s a rare condition, and I’m at the furthest end of its spectrum. My family has been synonymous with great artists and art appreciators, going back generations. And then there’s me, who can’t conjure even a color or shape in his own mind.”

Interesting. I’d be fascinated if I didn’t want to punch him in the throat so badly.

“So it takes me a very long time to paint literally anything. And even then, the finished piece is never as polished as a true master, like Mr. Franklin.”

“Bullshit,” I mutter.

Mundell glowers.

“What was that, Toy?”

Fuck him. He wants the truth, I’ll give it to him.

“Beethoven was fucking deaf and he still composed brilliant symphonies. Your mind’s eye doesn’t make you a bad artist. It’s your lack of talent and humanity. Master.”

He stares at me a moment, then throws his painting against the wall. Seething, he fixes the shock collar around my neck and triggers a jolt that causes my whole body to seize. I scream, writhing and crying, but I breathe deep and smile.

He knows I’m right.

I’m still recovering as he unlocks me from the chair, cuffs my hands behind my back and drags me to the jail.

“Because you’re such a slow fucking learner, Pet here is going to tell you what happens to bad pets and toys,” he says, shoving me into the empty cell and sealing the door. He tugs on the bars, making sure they’re shut. Without another word, he storms off, slamming the prison door shut behind him.

Chloe waits until I can move without wincing. She stares at me with a mixture of fear and pity.

“We’re getting out of here,” I say. “I promise. People will be looking for me. Mundell’s plan won’t work.”

“No,” she groans, shaking her head. “It will. I want to believe you. I thought I would be strong for the new Toy, but… Master always gets away with it. We disappear and no one suspects a thing.”

“This time will be different. It will.”

Even if she doesn’t believe it, I have to.

“I saw other girls in his art gallery. Are they here too?”

She shakes her head. A tear drips onto her cheek and falls off.

“They’re gone.”

“Dead?”

She nods, sniffling as the tears come faster.

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