Page 70 of Mine

Sara

Rien caught me as my legs buckled. He swept me up into his arms. I remembered him carrying me before. No. He couldn’t have.

“I feel strange,” I said, my tongue thick and mumbling.

“I’ve given you something,” Rien said. He was carrying me back, back to the bedroom. The lights were dim but I could still see his face. It was impassive, relaxed.

“No—”

“It’s a special dose. I hope it wasn’t too sweet.”

The cupcake. Oh, god.

“You drugged me,” I moaned. I tried to twist in his arm, tried to get away. Was he really planning to kill me, just as Gary had said? Why had I trusted him? I hit his chest with my fist, but all my strength was gone. “You drugged me!”

“Fame is a drug. So is money. So is power. My drugs are just more effective, that’s all.”

He set me down on the bed and adjusted my dress. He towered above me and admired me, and fear and loathing mixed inside me with desire. Hazy and uncertain, I reached out and he took my hand. My fingertips buzzed with feeling, but I couldn’t control my muscles.

“Let me put on some music,” he said.

He left my side for a moment. Above, a classical guitar began to play softly.

“What is this?” I murmured. “What… what drug…?”

“Ecstasy, mixed with my own special blend of barbiturates and a bit of fast-acting muscle relaxant. It was in the raspberry coulis.”

“Why?”

“Why the coulis? I thought you didn’t like needles. I was doing you a favor.”

“No.Why?”

I looked at him, trying to focus my eyes on his face. His golden eyes. Predator eyes. Eyes that wanted me. Eyes I wanted to stare into forever.

“Why did I drug you? So you’ll tell the truth,” Rien said simply.

I breathed in. Every breath was an ordeal.

“You don’t trust me.” I don’t know if it was the drugs or not, but this was what made me feel the most disappointed. I’d thought that all of this—the blindfold, the shower, the dinner—was leading up to him trusting me. But no. It had all been a show, a ruse to lure me in. The song playing from the stereo was filled with a longing sorrow. I blinked slowly.

“I don’t trust anyone. Nothing personal, my dear.”

He raised my arms above my head. I pulled against his grip, but he was strong and my muscles were all jelly.

“Rien—”

“Don’t take it as an insult, Sara. I only want to know what you know. And I think I know how to get you to tell me.”

He was tying my wrists. I could feel rope being drawn across my skin. My head lolled up awkwardly and I saw him finishing the knot on my wrists.

“Try to get out,” he said. I pulled my wrists apart, but they wouldn’t move.

“No. No. Rien. Please.”

He moved down to the bottom of the bed. His hand closed around my ankle, and I kicked, or tried to. I might as well have been kicking something underwater. Every part of me felt like it was moving in a dream. He pulled another rope around my ankle and tied it. My entire focus shifted to the pressure of the rope against my skin. He tied the rope to the bedpost and pulled it taut. Then the other foot. When he tightened the rope, my legs pulled apart and I heard the dress tear. I cried out. I was completely held down, vulnerable.

“I won’t hurt you, my beautiful little psycho. You’re too perfect. But if I find out you’ve been lying to me, well, then I might have to kill you.”

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