I stare at the words—Claim Auction—just imagining what they will cost me, what I am volunteering for, and every sane part of me screams to close the tab and run.
But I check the box anyway. If I start thinking about any of this more than I already am, I won’t be able to go through with it.
When I tap the upload button and my camera roll opens, Milo’s face pops up. There’s a picture of him from last week when I drove past his school just as he got out and I quickly snapped a photo of my baby. Him smiling so wide at a friend, his cheeks look round.
I almost lose it right here, almost fold in half on this couch and let the tears come. I don’t deserve him. I never have.
I scroll until I find the photo of me in the dress. The image attaches to the application, and then I move down to the section where I can list what I don’t want the winner to do to me.
I don’t understand what half of them mean, so I select no on those, plus some that I don’t want to even attempt to try like golden showers. I know what those are, thank you very much.
My thumb drifts down to the bottom of the form where the submit button waits, and a wave of dizziness hits, like the room tilts around me.
Once it’s sent, I can’t take it back.
“Oh, God.” I press a palm to my sternum.
Then I picture Milo asleep, warm and safe and unaware that a monster could be coming for him, and that fear turns into something sharper.
I hit submit in an instant, and simple check mark appears with the word RZVRT on the bottom.
It’s done. I did it.
Shit.
My hands start to shake so badly, I have to knot my fingers around the phone just to keep from dropping it. I gape at the confirmation page until my eyes blur, until the letters smear and I am not even seeing them anymore.
The phone buzzes in my grip.
The sound punches straight through me. I fumble for my messages, half convinced it’s Eli already, sending me a picture of Milo’s body on some dirty floor. The thought is so violent, it’s like a blade twisting under my ribs, and I shove it down as I open the thread.
But all I find is a text from a private number.
Unknown
Your application has been received. If you are accepted, you will be notified within 24 hours. You will also receive a separate message with the time and location of the event. A masquerade mask will be mailed to you and must be worn to enter the event. The message containing the time and location will disappear 30 seconds after being opened. You are responsible for recording the information.
I read it once, then again. Disappear in thirty seconds? That’s crazy.
Willing my nerves to settle, I pull up Eli’s thread and type with stiff fingers.
Sloane
It’s done.
Eli
K.
K. Like I just told him I picked up milk.
Throwing my arm over my forehead, I focus on the ceiling, the dim outline of water stains and old tiles blurring as my eyes burn.
I keep waiting to wake up from this, to find out it’s just some messed-up dream, but it’s worse than a nightmare.
At least you can wake up from those.
The next day, my phone vibrates in my pocket while I’m balancing two plates on one arm, and the second that buzz hits, my stomach drops.
