Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
“You need a warm bath. We can talk while you have a nice, long soak,” he says and pulls on my underwear, exposing me completely. If this had happened a few hours earlier, I would be hard as a rock and begging for more, but fear makes me feel beyond naked and vulnerable.
I’m too afraid to voice my objection, because at this point, he seems capable of anything. “Thank… you?” I mumble, trying not to overthink the fact that this will be the first time he sees me fully naked.
It shouldn’t matter, but I’m self-conscious of the scars on my legs. Even though years have passed, some are still big and pink. I shouldn’t care, since he’s some psycho, but I do. Because I still like him. He’s the first man I kissed, and I don’t want him to scowl at my naked body,
“You’re welcome,” Saint tells me and spins me around as if I’m a puppet.
There’s a click, and then, one of the cuffs opens, setting me free. A voice whispers that this is the opportunity I’ve been waiting for, but the rest of me knows I have no chance against this man. Not right now and not like this. So I raise both my arms when Saint pulls off my top, leaving me naked next to his dressed self.
He scans me from head to toe, which makes me feel smaller than I am. I awkwardly cover my crotch, hoping my body doesn’t betray me, because a part of me appreciates that he’s bigger, stronger, that he knows what he wants. And since he hasn’t yet attempted to punch me or cut me up, I relax enough to be open to that feeling. I don’t like what that says about me, but is it such a surprise that I am messed up sexually too?
I await his verdict with my heart beating furiously, glad my hair is long enough to just about cover my eyes, but he takes away my one protection by brushing the sweaty strands aside.
I shiver, hunching my shoulders, but when Saint lifts my chin with one finger so our eyes can meet, he’s smiling. “God, you're pretty. It’s okay. All of this is for you. This cabin, the bath,” he adds, dipping his hand in to check the temperature of the water. “Me.”
I gather the courage to hold his gaze, and when I speak my voice remains steady. “Who are you?”
Saint holds my forearm and directs me into the water. It’s hot, but not unpleasantly so when I step into the tub, then sit, holding on to a metal rail attached to the wall. I’m not at all surprised when he grabs the open cuff and closes it on the steel bar, securing me to it.
“What are you really asking?” Saint inquires as he opens a bottle and pours some of its contents into the water, filling the bathroom with the scent of gingerbread and vanilla.
“Why did you break into my house? Why did you seduce me? Why are you doing this?” I gently rattle the cuff to make my point, but as the tub fills, I can’t help but relax into the warm, fragrant bath.
Saint crosses his arms on his chest, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. He unwraps it with care, as if it’s a historical artifact, but when he presents it to me, my stomach drops at the sight of my own, anger-jagged writing.
I barely remember it through the haze of fear but he did mention a letter back in the woods. At once, the water around me feels cold.
“What the hell?”
Saint exhales and puts the letter on a shelf with little decorative jars. “Why are you like this? I’m here to give you what you want.”
I stare at him as my brain fogs up with fear. “You’re… Santa?”
Saints mouth spreads in a grin, and he clicks his fingers. “No, better yet, I am your personal Santa. I deal in revenge, and that’s what you wished for, right? Wait here,” he adds as if I have any choice in the matter, and darts out, jogging down the corridor.
I’m slowly adjusting to this new reality. As freaky as this is, as betrayed as I feel… at least it doesn’t look like he intends to kill me, so that counts for something.
I glance toward the letter filled with my gory revenge fantasies. I never imagined anyone other than my therapist would be reading it, but I’m willing to roll with this insanity for now and see if it leads me to safety. After all, there have been people who avoided death by playing to a psycho’s tune. Maybe I’ll be one of them?
But when Saint steps back inside, and a second pair of eyes stares at me from an open trash bag he’s holding, terror sinks its claws back into my flesh.