Page 38 of Don't Say A Word

But my wrists are no longer chained. There is no blindfold covering my eyes. I am lying in bed, the only light coming from the moon shining through the square patch of a window. It’s full tonight. Full and bright. From the amount of times I’ve seen it move across the sky, I’ve been in this hellhole for at least ten days, but it seems a lot longer. It’s as though the Mia of before, the one who laughed and smiled and sang, is from a different lifetime, one that seems disconnected from this one.

My heart thuds loudly, though I don’t know why. Something has woken me. I just don’t know what.

I lie still, my ears straining to make sense of why I’m awake. I can’t make out anything in the dim light, most of the room is shrouded in darkness.

And then someone clears their throat.

And it’s not Ryker.

I know Ryker’s voice. I know the sound of his breath, the noises of his body.

“Hello?” I call out cautiously.

No one answers but I can hear breathing now. I wish there was a light to turn on, something to expose my fear, but the switch is on the other side of the door. The side I’ve never been on.

I search the darkness. There is no red light on the camera.

“Ryker?” My voice is timid, scared. But I know it’s not him. Has my requestor come to visit? Am I about to come face to face with the monster who haunts my nightmares?

Sitting up in the bed, I keep the blanket wrapped around me. I have sleepwear now, satin chemises with lace that cup my breasts.

The sound of footfall jerks my head to the corner where Ryker often sits and Marcel steps into the patch light. His gaze is predatory. His smile is vile. His nose is swollen as though it’s been hit.

“What’s the phrase he uses? Keep quiet? Say nothing?” He steps closer and I freeze, perched on the edge of the bed. In another place, in another life, Marcel would be considered handsome. But not here. Not now. The smirk that covers his face paralyzes me with terror.

“What do you want?” My voice is small in the darkness.

Images of Star’s bloodied face pulse on repeat, as though she is here and someone is turning the light on and off. It is blinding.

He steps so close I have to crane my head to look at him. But I’m determined to keep his gaze, determined not to let my fear show.

Bold in my stupidity.

“What is it about you that’s so special?” He inspects me slowly, taking in my hair, my eyes, lips, chest. “I don’t see anything.”

I wish that were true.

“Ryker will kill you if you touch me.”

He chuckles. “Is that what you think?”

I swallow the nervous knot of fear. “It’s what he said.”

Reaching out, his hand brushes my cheek, sending sickening surges of nausea through me.

“And how will he know? You’ve already noticed the camera is off. What’s to stop me from doing anything I want, right here, right now?”

My voice wavers, almost a whisper. “He will know.”

He shrugs and strolls around the room, fingers feathering my clothing.

“Oh,” he says, “now I remember.” He turns to look at me, his eyes darken, his voice lowers and evil drips from his lips. “Don’t say a word.” He pauses, waiting for my response, my obedience.

I do nothing.

He starts to pace again. “I see,” he muses. “Like that, are we?” He sits on the bed, resting his hand on my knee.

I want to vomit.

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