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It was the layers, possibly. There was more to her under her skin than just a body. There was a mind that I had not yet come to understand. Villains were easy. Their motivations were simple: money, power, luxury.

But Sara… I didn’t know what was inside that drove her to do anything. I had peeled off her fake eyes, dug deep into her body with my fingers but that still wasn’t enough. Her soul wasn’t visible to me, not yet.

The people on my operating table were always bare to me. They had a single, solitary purpose: to escape. They came to me because they were done with their previous lives. They wanted to escape. They wanted to disappear. And I made them disappear.

Just not in the way they wanted.

Sara was different. She had come into my house for a different reason. To pretend.

Looking over at the clock, I frowned. Midnight, and I still wasn’t asleep.

Was she?

Just the thought of her made my cock jump to attention. I imagined her dark brown hair spread out over the couch. Her body, clothed only in my shirt, those full breasts straining against the buttons.

I thought of her breaths catching in her throat when I touched her. Was that pretending? There was more underneath, more than I could see.

Go to her.

Throwing back the sheets, I stood up and left the bedroom. I wanted to see what more there was to this girl. I wanted to tease it out, to find it for myself.

I wanted to take apart my toy and see what made it tick.

Sara

I’d spent an hour looking through the library. I ran my fingers underneath the shelves of books along the walls, trying to find the hidden switch. I thought that it must be on the wall that led to the operating room. That was how he’d opened it before without my seeing. But I couldn’t find anything.

Maybe it was one of the books. I skimmed my eyes over the shelves, trying to find something that would stand out. But of course it wouldn’t stand out. It would be hidden. Secret.

I tried pulling out one book at a time at random, then handfuls, replacing them on the shelf when nothing happened. But there were thousands of books on the shelf. I couldn’t check them all. Not tonight. The two injections he’d given me had messed with my system. My brain was fuzzy, even now. Or maybe that was just the exhaustion catching up to me.

It was almost midnight when I gave up on my search and turned off the light. Tomorrow I could search again. And the day after. I had time. As long as Rien continued to believe that I was resigned to my fate, I would have time to find a way to escape. He wouldn’t kill the man, either, as long as he thought I might do it. If I was a survivor, I would have to pretend that I was unsure. I would have to pretend that I’d given up trying to escape.

But he saw through me!

That time. Yes. But not again. I would be the best actress I could.

I felt my way to the couch and lay down, drawing my knees up to my chest. In the dark, I couldn’t see anything, not even a light from under the doorway. The library was sealed off from both sides of the house. The waiting room and operating room were on one side and Rien lived on the other side.

I wrapped my arms around myself as a chill went through me. On one side of me I had a killer, and on the other side a man who was going to die. Gary had lied to me, but I couldn’t kill him.

Maybe you could, my mind said.Stay unsure.

Right. Maybe I could kill him. I tucked one arm under my head to use as a pillow. All I could smell was the leather of the couch and the dusty smell of old books. The shirt that Rien gave me was clean and sterile. When he’d touched me before, leaning over me, I had smelled his cologne. It was a delicate smell that hinted of peppermint and fresh air. I wanted to smell it again.

I shook my head in disgust. But then I realized that I could use this for my character. The survivor. She was pretending to want him.

Yes, I thought. I could do this. I could act as though he was attractive. I could pretend to be seduced by him. I could—

Footsteps came down the hallway. I held my breath. The bolt on the door snapped open.

I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. I had to calm down. My heart was pounding.

What did Meisner say about acting like this?Transfer the point of concentration to some object outside of yourself - another person, a puzzle, a broken plate that you are gluing.

Another object. The first thing that came to my mind was… a scalpel.

Fine. Yes. A scalpel. I was dreaming of a scalpel. My breathing slowed as I forced myself to concentrate. I saw the scalpel in my mind’s eye. The silver blade. The small screw attaching the blade to the handle.

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