Please stop.
"And when he was done, he told you the problem was you. That normal women don't need safewords. That if you really loved him, you'd want to please him however he wanted."
I'm shaking.
Full-body tremors. My begin to chatter.
"How—" I can barely form words. "How do you know that? I never told anyone. I never?—"
"I know everything about you, Scarletta. Everything you've written. Everything you've thought. Everything that's ever been done to you."
His hand touches my face. Gentle. Wrong.
I flinch.
"I cut off his fingers first. One by one. Starting with his right pinkie. He screamed a lot. Begged. Promised he'd do anything if I let him go."
I'm going to vomit.
I'm going to vomit or pass out or?—
"Then I moved to more... sensitive areas. The parts of his body he used to violate your consent."
His thumb strokes my cheekbone. Tender. Horrifying.
"I wanted him to understand what it felt like. To say no and have someone ignore you. To beg for it to stop and have someone keep going anyway."
This is a nightmare.
This has to be a nightmare.
Wake up wake up wake up?—
"And when I was done—when he'd suffered enough to balance the scales—I dismembered him. Burned the pieces. Scattered the ashes where no one will ever find them."
The room tilts.
I'm falling except I'm not moving and?—
I sink. Down. Down. Until I'm kneeling on cold hardwood floor, still blindfolded, still handcuffed, still naked.
Still here.
With a man who just confessed to murder.
"You're insane." The words come out flat. Disconnected. "You're fucking insane and I need to—I need to leave. I need to?—"
"Do you?"
His voice is right above me now. He's standing over me.
"Do you really want to leave, Scarletta? Or do you want to how I knew about him."
I don't want to know.
I don't want to know anything.
I want to go back to my apartment. Back to my blanket fort. Back to the moment before I clicked that link and entered this nightmare.
