Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74125 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“I attended a concert of yours a few years ago. Sprang for front-row seats. You were singing right to me, Joslyn. You stared me right in the eyes, and you sang only for me. And I felt the connection between us.”
I start shaking my head. “I don’t remember you at all. I perform. I act. It’s what I do. There’s no connection.”
The man slides around to my front. His eyes are hard and cold. “Careful, Joslyn. Else I won’t have any use for you if you stop being nice.”
His threat is clear, and a smarter woman might become subdued. But I’ve about reached my limit of his torment, which is exactly what he’s doing to me. He is terrorizing me with his singsong tone and teasing words.
Straightening in my chair, I lean my head and torso as far forward as I can, lifting my chin in defiance. “You are sick. Demented. What type of man has to tie up a woman to get what he wants? I’ll tell you… it’s a psychopathic creep who probably has a little dick and—”
His hand cocks back quickly and he lets it fly, catching me with his palm across my left cheek. The blow is so forceful my head snaps to the right, the chair actually leaning onto two legs before it corrects itself. There’s an immediate ringing in my ears, and my vision starts to dim.
And then, he strikes me again. In the same exact way, an open palm to my left cheek.
This blow is harder. My teeth slice into my cheek, causing blood to flood my mouth. I gag against the taste, tilting to the side to spit it out. When I look back up, my insides turn to ice. He has a switchblade open, and he’s holding it up for me to see.
“If you want me to get nasty with you, Joslyn, I will. Or you can be a good, quiet little bitch. If you are, I won’t hurt you too much.”
I am effectively put my place.
“Okay, okay, okay.” I make my voice as meek and subservient as I can muster. It’s not too hard, since I am genuinely terrified now. “I’m sorry. I’m just scared and disoriented, and I don’t feel good. I’m sorry.”
He stares, his cold beady eyes calculating the weight of my words. Finally, and ever so slowly, he closes the knife and puts it away. A huge rush of air forcefully exhales from my lungs when it disappears.
I muster up the courage, asking the one question I’m terrified to know the answer to. “What are you going to do to me?”
He bends again, putting his face in front of mine. Blood continues to fill my mouth. I can’t lean over and spit it out without most likely offending him. Instead, I swallow the vileness, hoping to God I don’t wretch it back up.
He reaches a hand out, then runs a finger tenderly over my left cheekbone, which is burning like unholy fire from where he hit me. He murmurs, “I’m going to make you my pet. I’ll keep you for as long as you amuse and please me. And when I’m sick of you, I’ll get rid of you. My advice is to be good and make me happy. If you can manage that, maybe I’ll keep you for a while.”
Sickening awareness overtakes me. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you? You told me that I would be your favorite.”
The man grins before standing. He punches both of his hands into his front pockets. “Well, you have made it interesting. I’ve definitely enjoyed the challenge. And you’ve been a bad girl by making time with another man. I don’t forgive you for that, you know. I’m going to hurt you because of it. But eventually, you’ll come to love me, Joslyn.”
Self-preservation be damned. “You’re delusional. You might as well kill me now because I will never submit to you. I’ll never give you what you want without a fight every step of the way.”
“Oh, contraire,” he teases. “You’ll beg me eventually.”
“Never,” I hiss.
This amuses him, which pisses me off because I seem to do that a lot. Turning his back on me, he laughs dismissively as he retreats to the door. “That’s the drugs talking. Giving you false courage. I’m going to wait for it to get out of your system before we begin. In the meantime, I’m just going to leave you here in the dark and let you think about things.”
He reaches out for the light switch.
“Wait,” I cry.
He turns to regard me.
I plead with him. “Don’t turn the lights out.”
I’m ashamed I’m already begging him for something.
It’s made even worse by the fact he doesn’t give me what I asked for. Instead, he flips the switch. He opens the door, giving me one last burst of light, then he leaves and closes it behind him.