My mind is reeling from everything that’s just happened. Everything I’ve learned. Quill gets beaten by his dad. Quill is getting trained to do Devil’s dirty work. To… kill the contracts, or so his dad said. To get rich from doing it. Are the contracts… people? Is he going to become the kind of person who ends people’s lives?
What was it his dad said?Channel your urges?
Does that mean Quill is really…? I gulp down on my nerves as I remember everything about Quill that feels… off.
He used to like to bully me.
Now, he likes to hurt me.
But the weird thing is, I like it when he hurts me.
Does that make me just as off as him?
Suddenly, I realize I’ve been out here alone for a long time. Quill’s dad is gone. Why hasn’t he come to get me? Has he forgotten me?
I hear the distant sound of water turning on, as though he’s taking a shower. Anger surges up in me, but just as quickly disappears.
Of course he’s probably forgotten, given what just happened to him. Or maybe he’s just suffering, and doesn’t want me to see him in this vulnerable state.
I should leave.
Sighing, I stand up, the now-familiar pain in my bottom soothing me. I’m ready to creep away when a window pops open on the second floor, and Quill, his hair wet and naked except for his boxers, looks out.
He flashes me one of those dark looks that tell me I’m in trouble. Which he confirms a second later.
“Thought I told you to stay put,” he hisses. Then he adds, “Climb up.”
I nearly choke out a laugh as I stare up at his window.
How the hell am I supposed toclimb up?
A second later, a thick rope flies down to the ground. A rope that I definitely recognize, since it seems to be a fixture in his backpack, and he’s used it to tie me up to my bedpost on more than one occasion.
This time, I actually do snort. No way am I climbing up that. First of all, because I’m scared of heights. Second of all, because we once did rope climbing in gym class, and I discovered I absolutely do not have the upper body strength necessary to get more than three inches off the ground.
Quill rolls his eyes, then disappears once more into the bedroom. Crap. Is that it? Has he gone to bed, and left me here?
I’m just starting to regret not at leasttryingto climb up when he reappears. He must have just secured the rope to something, because the next minute, he’s going down as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, then seizing me and swinging me over his shoulder.
“Quill!” I breathe out, but he barely gives me a second to react before he’s climbing back up the rope.
I claw at his back, terrified, my eyes looking straight at the ground that we’re rapidly getting farther away from. Especially since he’s let go of me to swing up the rope.
I know it’s only two floors, but I really am terrified of heights.
One of his hands leaves the rope for a second to smack my butt.
“Stop wriggling around or I’ll really you have it,” he growls, and I wonder if he can feel the wetness that coats my thighs with a thick sheen at those words.
I do my best to stay still as he pushes me over the windowsill, then topples in after me.
My heart is racing, and I’ve been shivering uncontrollably since I overheard the beating, but I still manage to glance around the room curiously. It’s the first time I’m here, since we’re mostly at my place, or outside. I don’t wonder anymore at that, now that I know the kind of home life Quill has.
His room is big but pretty bare, just a bed on one side with off-white sheets, across from which is perched a big TV on a chest of drawers. There’s a desk on the other side of the room with a laptop on it, precariously balancing on… a gun.
I don’t have time to comment on that before I feel Quill’s hand on my chin as he turns me so I’m facing him.
He’s looking… remorseful.
