Page 12 of Descent

No. No, no, no. I won’t accept that. I can’t.

This can’t be happening.

My mind races to fit together all of the information I have, but the picture it paints is an awful one. If I can’t get out of this room until he lets me out…

I’m at his mercy in a way that’s grossly unfair. All I want is to leave, but I literallycan’tuntil he chooses to release me. Letting me go has to behis choice, and he won’t make it until he’s been satisfied.

I can’t win. I can’t get out of this. I’m trapped here until… until he’s finished with me.

My stomach twists up until I think I might be sick.

I don’t accept answers I don’t like, he said on the phone, and he really meant it.

He’s not just an absolute psycho, he’s cruel. So cruel he has no qualms about stripping away my ability to defend myself just so he can get off.

I tilt my chin up as he pushes off the wall and moves closer.

I’m starting to realize there’s really nothing I can do to defend myself, but my defeat is so unfair, I’m struggling to come to terms with it.

Tears glisten in my eyes. I refuse to look at him, so he grabs my jaw and tilts my face until I relent and meet his dark, unfeeling eyes.

He leans in. My heart jumps when his lips brush mine again. I didn’t really feel it before, I was too shocked, too convinced I could get out of this somehow.

Now, I’m trapped in cement shoes. I can feel the icky muck of inevitability beneath them, and I know there’s really nowhere to run.

I have no choice but to please this monster, so I kiss him back.

It feels terrifying and horrible at first, like selling a piece of my soul to the devil and praying he doesn’t demand the rest.

As the horror ebbs, though, it begins to feel less like a deal with the devil and more like a kiss from a man. He tugs my tucked-in blouse out of my skirt. His hand slides beneath the fabric and skims my side, then he grabs my waist to pull me closer as his kiss deepens.

Adrenaline and horror mingle together in my veins as he moves me away from the wall. I don’t know where he’s taking me, I only know he’s in charge. He doesn’t break the kiss as he walks me backward. He doesn’t break the kiss until the backs of my legs hit smooth black leather, then he does so abruptly and gives me a shove.

I gasp as I fall back on the long black couch. Fear floods my gaze as he moves to climb on the couch with me. Out of some instinct that can’t serve me here, I try to back away from him.

He smiles, amused, and grabs my ankle. My gaze darts to his long fingers closed around my foot. He tugs off my nude-colored heels and carefully puts them on the ground.

His gentleness throws me. If he doesn’t care about hurting me, he certainly shouldn’t care about scuffing my shoes.

I swallow, filling up with uncertainty. I don’t understand this man’s motives. He’s confusing to me, and I don’t know how to deal with it.

Once my heels have been removed, he slides his hand up the inside of my bare leg. I squeeze my knees together, but he easily pushes them apart and slides his hand up my thigh, too.

This can’t be happening.

Defeat wraps its fingers around my throat, threatening to choke me out.

Maybe I should let it. If there’s nothing I can do to stop this man from having his way with me, maybe I should just detach and let it happen. When he’s finished with me, I can leave, just like he said.

As long as he isn’t lying.

It’s the oddest thing to ask, but it’s the thought I grab onto, so as he climbs on top of me and starts to unbutton the rest of my shirt, I ask, “Are you a liar?”

He seems to find the question curious, too. He doesn’t meet my gaze or pause in undressing me, but he does answer. “Not generally, no.”

I wouldn’t count tonight as a common occurrence. “But you’ll lie if you have to.”

His gaze meets mine. Understanding where the question is coming from, he tells me, “I’m not lying to you, Hallie.”

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