“I’d rather your grandmother beat me again.”
“Sarcasm.” He laughs, shaking his head. “Grandmother hates sarcasm.”
Before long, Abbott reaches the door at the top of the stairs and closes it quietly behind him. The locks clicking into place echo in my ears like a funeral hymn.
I finally loosen my grip on the mattress, relaxing against the hard springs, and accepting the pitch-black basement to be a foundation of comfort against that man’s incessant talking.
“Is anything broken?” Niklaus asks. His deep voice is oddly and unnervingly soothing to me right now. It’s familiar. The silky baritone reminding me of home. I must be feverish or delusional.
“Just my dignity,” I answer with severe hoarseness.
“At least your sense of humor is still intact.”
“Yes. That is true.”
Though I don’t let him hear it in my voice as tears leak from the corners of my eyes, past my swollen temples, and onto the stained bed underneath me.
16. Devil’s Words Dying
“Please tell me calling outyour twin brother’s name in your sleep isn’t incestuous,” Niklaus says, voice the epitome of severe exhaustion.
Has he slept at all?
“I keep having the same dream.” I clear my throat. My voice is terrifying, like I’ve been gargling broken glass. “I hear Krimson calling for me while I’m hanging off a cliff, about to fall.”
Niklaus processes this.
“It feels so real.”
“Well, that’s…creepy,” he sighs.
I attempt a shrug.Yeah.
I almost ask him how he’s holding up over there. That chair must be uncomfortable and I’m certain he’s probably going mad with hunger and thirst. But what the hell do I care? I replay the look in his eyes as he shoved me into the creek. His unforgivable words. And to make matters worse, I’m the one taking a beating! So, he gets to sit in a chair that is making his ass fall asleep. Am I really going to check on the well-being on his numb backside when I’m currently a human pile of bruises, swollen throbbing flesh, and possibly some internal bleeding?Nope.
“We need to come up with a plan to get out of here,” Niklaus says, breaking the deafening silence with the intrusiveness of his voice. It’s clipped and low, like he can’t be bothered to speak but is unable to stay silent either.
I pause to think. “I’m coming up empty.”
“He seems to like you…”
“I see where you’re going with this.”
“And?”
“And no.”
“Why not?”
I close my eyes. “I’m pretty sure he liked my mother too. You think if she could have batted her eyelashes and gotten him to free her, she would have tried that?”
“It was a different time then,” Niklaus responds, though he’s skeptical.
“It won’t work.”
“You’re one of the most manipulative human beings I’ve ever met. You’re not even going to try?”
“I—wow—that’s so sweet.” I raise my eyebrows.
