It’s long past midnight already.
Nowhere is safe for me anymore.
I clench my jaw, biting back a whimper as my foot throbs in agony, the pain only now soaking through what’s left of the adrenaline lacing my veins.
Carefully, quietly, I scoot over the floor and reach for another drawer.
This one feels heavier. I only pray that’s because there’s a shit ton of knives inside.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Kai rasps.
My fingertips skate over something smooth, slick, cool. I drag it to the edge of the drawer and carefully pull it up along the side.
I stare at the lighter in my palm.
Just as useless as the fucking dish towels. Maybe if Kai wasn’t wet as the sack of cats we found on the banks of the creek that one time, then?—
“What game you wanna play tonight, Miss H?” Kai’s footsteps are quieter now, as if he’s creeping. “Hide and Hunt?”
A floorboard creaks, and it’s way, way, way too fucking close.
My heart bangs painfully inside my chest, my eyes squeezing shut before I force them open. Shaking fingers reach up, slide into the drawer, hunting.
“Nah. The Bandit and the Queen right? You always liked that one.”
I pull out an ice pick.
It’s cold in my hand. So gloriously heavy.
Gritting my teeth, I lay my leg flat and slip the ice pick behind the waistband of my short, black skirt. Silver thread glimmers, the luxurious fabric a strange contrast to my pale, dirty legs.
No use running anymore. The only way out of this kitchen is past Kai. Or through him.
He chuckles to himself, and the sound sends a chill through my body that leaves a hard shiver in its wake. The ice pick iscold against my hip and thigh, but warming up quickly. I slip the lighter behind my bra…just in case.
“How about the Quiet Game?” Kai’s voice is so low, so menacing, that I almost make a run for it, anyway.
My chest heaves as I fight to control my breathing.
Another floorboard creaks.
My eyes pop open. I stare up at Kai as he steps into the kitchen area.
He looks down at me, impossibly tall, an imposing silhouette with his dark clothes and face bathed in shadows.
My aching foot feels hot and stingy. The rest of my body cold, trembling.
Except for one tiny piece, deep inside.
Not the part of me that found an ice pick to defend myself with. But the part of me that’s so fucked up, ithidit, so Kai still thinks he has the upper hand for now.
Because that part of me can’t wait to see what his fucked-up mind is going to come up with next. That part is shooting excited tingles into my pussy, hoping, however this plays out, that it ends hard and rough.
The first few times I felt this way, it was disturbing as fuck. What kind of girl gets off on the threat of violence and pain and being forced to do things she doesn’t want to?
The kind of girl who watched her father destroy her life one drug-fueled bender at a time.
Bruised apples don’t fall far from the tree.
