Somehow, I do.
I get outside. I breathe. I find my control as I walk the route that I’ll use. My mind settles as I think through every possibility, every contingency, as I reduce the world to me and Elias and the game we’re about to play.
FIVE
Andre
This next part is hard. For Elias, yes, but for me too. This is the denial, the shattering of expectations, the harsh, unwelcome return to reality.
But I have to do this. I have to hurt him. It’s what he asked for.
I didn’t get to watch him receive the message, however.
Unfortunately, this part requires the agency’s participation, and Wes is being an asshole about it. He doesn’t like it. He says it makes thingstooreal, but he hasn’t watched Elias like I have. He doesn’t know Elias like I do. He doesn’t understand that that’s the fucking point.
Wes would only agree to send the message from the ForbiddenX site if Elias could receive it at home, in private.
I know he got it last night. I could tell the instant he left his apartment building. His head was angled down. His hands were in the pocket of his gray hoodie. I could tell, too, that he wasn’t using a plug.
I should be glad he’s emerged at all. It’s his day off and there was every chance he would stay inside, especially after that message. Most people would have been scared. Was Elias? I’m angry that I didn’t get to see his initial reaction.
Heshouldbe scared, actually, but what I mostly see in his body language as I follow him is disappointment.
Do you miss me already, baby? Do you really think I would stay away from you? Do you really think that anyone couldkeepme away from you?
He must, since that’s what he was promised.
Your case is under review, he was informed.ForbiddenX assures you that you are safe, but you are advised to report any suspicious activity or contact to the moderator at this number. ForbiddenX will contact you within 7 days to reinstate your request, if possible, or to issue a refund. We apologize for any inconvenience.
So my poor Elias believes that his fantasy has been cancelled. He believes that it’s over. And because he’s smart, he’ll have read between the lines of that message: something went wrong.
It’s important that he not be sure what that something was. He needs to guess at it, worry about it, obsess over it. He needs to believe it. That way, later, he can believe his fear.
I wonder where he’s going. In his hoodie and joggers, I would guess for a run, but he’s not headed toward the park. There’s no gym nearby, and I doubt he would spend money on a membership.
The picture he submitted to ForbiddenX offered a glimpse of his apartment, and it was clear that he doesn’t buy extras, doesn’t indulge himself. He doesn’t earn much either, so he must have saved up for this.
He needs it. He needs me.
Is that why I’m obsessed with him?
I’m supposed to be, of course. It’s my role. It’s not just allowed—it’srequired.
There’s a warning somewhere in my mind, but it’s coming from outside the boundaries of my role, so I ignore it. I have to focus. I can’t let Elias see me when I’m hunting him. The black ballcap and sunglasses can only do so much to divert the eye.
So I’m careful. I keep back. I follow him across two neighborhoods to … an animal shelter? He walks inside like he’s done it a hundred times.
I can’t follow him in there. When he doesn’t emerge after a few minutes, I look for a place to wait. Across the street, there’s a used bookstore with a view of the door, so I go there. The place has a hippie vibe and stinks of patchouli, but at least there are faded armchairs by the window.
The girl who sells me a ratty paperback copy ofGrimm’s Complete Fairy Talesdoesn’t bat an eye at my random choice, my appearance, or my decision to sit by the window with my purchase.
A mottled black and orange cat is curled up in the chair next to me. I’m not often around animals, so I give it a wary glance, but it doesn’t acknowledge me.
Elias spends so long in the animal shelter that I end up reading several stories that tell me what I already knew: the world is cruel, and innocence is always punished.
When Elias emerges from the shelter, I abandon the book. I’m prepared to slip out and follow him again, but goddamn it, he’s jogging across the street, heading right this way.
I don’t have a lot of options, so I slip into the maze of shelves. The girl behind the counter never looks up from her own book. I locate the door to a back room and position myself to reach it, if necessary, without losing sight of the entrance.
