Page 33 of Do Not Open

The cold porcelain of the tub adds to the chills lining my skin as I step inside. I’m still in my bra and underwear, but no matter how much I want to take them off to get fully clean, I refuse. He doesn’t seem to be in a mood to argue that minor detail, for which I’m thankful.

I reach forward to turn on the water, but he swats my arm away as if I’m a child not minding their manners. “Sit.”

I stare up at him. “What?”

“Sit, Mari. You’re taking a bath. My shower doesn’t work.”

The idea of sitting in the place where his bare body was just hours ago disgusts me. I want to argue, but there’s no use.

I sit down in the bathtub, and he turns on the water, making sure the temperature is so hot it scalds my skin. I won’t give him the satisfaction of complaining or allowing one ounce of pain to show in my expression.

Instead, I scoop up the water from the faucet and drop it over my face and body. Handful by handful, I use the water to clean myself, to wash away the dirt and grime from the past several days. I have no idea when or if I’ll take a bath again, so as much as one can enjoy themselves while being watched by the man holding them hostage, I do.

Eventually, he stands and pulls a washcloth from a closet next to the bathtub, grabbing a bottle of body wash and squirting a glob onto the rough, thinning fabric.

When he hands it to me, I use it to wash my skin, being extra careful around my stomach wound, my newly sore knee, and my calf. The skin around my knee has begun to purple, but the swelling isn’t as bad as I expected. When I look up, I notice he’s staring at it, too.

Does he feel bad for what he’s done? Does he even care?

Something tells me he doesn’t feel much of anything. His face is stoic. Empty. As if he’s watching a mindless television show and not the woman he’s holding hostage cleaning the wounds he’s given her.

The initials carved into my calf will scar, there’s no doubt about it. I can’t help wondering how many other scars I’ll have before he decides he’s done with me. Will he follow through with his plan to remove my teeth today? If he does, will I ever eat the same way again?

“What did you do with my things?” I ask, wringing out the washcloth.

“They’re gone.”

I assumed as much, but the way his eyes flicked toward the wall his bedroom is on has me questioning that theory. Is it possible I was in the same room as my phone earlier? Was it in one of the boxes in the closet I didn’t have the chance to search? Is it possible, with just a little more time and a smidge of luck, I could’ve found it, called for help, and avoided all of this?

“Who is the woman who visits you?”

He narrows his eyes.

“Please, Chris. I just want to know more about you.”

His lips pinch together, then break apart with a sigh. “She’s no one. Just my sister.”

“She sounded worried about you.”

He looks away. “It’s not like you care.”

“Of course I care.” I adjust, turning to face him. “Of course I do. I’m just scared. I’m very, very scared here.”

“That’s good,” he says, his voice steady, as if I’ve told him I’m feeling better after a nasty cold. “The fear is what gives you an edge, Mari. It’s why your books are so important. You aren’t afraid to write about what scares you, to write about what scares all of us. You used to be brave, but lately, you’re hiding in your house. Hiding behind the alcohol. I’m going to teach you how to face those fears again.”

I force a soft smile. “You’re right. I know you are. It’s just hard. You know me so well, Chris.”

“I know you better than anyone.” His voice is so matter-of-fact it sends bile climbing in my throat.

“I just… I guess I feel badly I know so little about you.”

“I’m a nobody.” He shrugs me off. “This is the most important thing I’ve ever done. You are my greatest achievement. Or, at least, you will be.”

“It’s very noble,” I agree. “Helping someone out like you’ve helped me. I know it comes from a good, selfless place.”

He studies me for a long while, and I worry I’ve oversold it. Then he says, “It was her house. The place I had you meet me. She’s a realtor and is selling it. Apparently, the police came around asking about you, asking about that address, and the homeowners started questioning her.”

I force down the hope swelling in my chest. “And what did you tell her?”

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