Page 3 of After Our Kiss

Glancing again at the door, he sat on the edge of the bed—next to my hip. “I'm not supposed to tell you anything.” I opened my lips to argue, but he got there first. “But I'm going to because you deserve to know. The other one, she didn't. Now she's dead.”

I dug my nails into my own palms.The other one?I wasn't the first girl to be taken by this mad man. “Please, you have to help me get away.”

The pity in his stare gutted me. “I wish I could.”

“You can! Please, you can, just untie me. I'll leave and never ever say a word about this. I promise. My name is Georgia. Georgia Mary King.” It was how my mother always addressed me. She'd said my full name made it clear I was no joke, and that if I wanted to be taken seriously, I should state it with pride. “I'm all my mother has. She already lost Dad, she can't lose me too, please!”

He didn't disguise the sympathy in his eyes. But I think he wanted to.

There was a sound from just behind the door. Together, we both twisted to stare. The lock was grinding, the knob shifting. Someone was coming.

“Please,” I whimpered.

He stood, and with his weight gone from the bed, I felt myself fading. “Don't fight him. It'll be easier.”

A pathetic, strained sob floated out of me. I didn't recognize the sound of my own voice. “No. No, please, stay. Help me! Just help me!” He wasn't looking at me anymore... like he couldn't manage it. I realized with a cold jolt that he hadn't told me his name.

Then the door opened, and I sawhim.

He had to duck in order to enter the room. The shirt that bulged over his torso was unsettling in its angelic whiteness; it belonged on someone in a laundry detergent commercial, not on the man who'd dragged me from my bedroom in the middle of the night. But this was surely him. I knew it the way you remembered snippets of a nightmare, except I wasn't waking up.

Soft, baby blue eyes rested on me. They bounced over to the young man, then they were on me again—too hungry to be gone for long. “Good,” he said, “You're awake. I was worried when you slept through the tenth hour. Thought I'd used too much stuff on you, but looks like everything turned out right as rain.”

I wanted so badly to be brave. Instead, I trembled on the bed, too limp to yank at my bonds like I had before. And speaking,yelling?Moving my tongue was as likely as me moving the planets in the sky.

In the corner, the teen stood taller. “I was only checking on her, Dad.”

His father motioned to the open door behind him. “Get out. Right now.”

The nameless boy scanned my face. I willed him to save me... to do something to keep this horrific stranger from hurting me. I had the most insane idea that as long as this kid was here, his dad wouldn't touch me.

Then he was gone, shutting the door as he went.

No. No, no, no.I repeated the word internally until the man was beside me. He cocked his head like a giant bird, allowing the ever lengthening quiet to form spider-silk strings that cocooned me into paralysis. I hated anticipating what he'd do or say. My imagination was vibrant with wicked horrors.

He sat on the end of the bed, making the springs squeak. He brushed his fingertips over my naked toes. Marbles rolled through my guts; I dry heaved, and he just laughed. “My name's Facile Adams. I'm very much looking forward to getting to knowyou, Georgia Mary King.”

That he knew who I was left me stunned, but it wasn't what surprised me the most.Why did he tell me his name?It was an amateur move—I'd be able to use this information to help the police track him down. In fact...was that why his sonhadn'ttold me his name? Was he playing it safe, hoping he'd avoid being found out if I couldn't identify him?

Facile smiled at me. His teeth were pearly, but they still reminded me of rusty saw blades; weapons that wanted to slice me up and expose what was under my flesh.

Then I understood. I knew exactly why Facile was so quick to tell me his name.

This man...he had no reason to fear me telling the world what he'd done.

Why would he?

Dead girls can't talk.

He said, “I've been watching you for a week, paying attention to how you drag your feet on your way home every day. I wondered if you were having a rough time. Your mother is a single parent.” His lips pulled across his face in a poor imitation of a smile. “She should know it takes a happy home to raise a perfect family. Love your husband insicknessand health. What did she do that drove your father away?”

The sharp knock on the door made me gasp. Facile's peaceful features contorted into fresh rage. Pushing off the bed, he stormed over and opened the unlocked door. “What?” I heard him growl, though I couldn't see who he was talking to.

Whoever was outside murmured something.

“Shit,” Facile spit the word. “Alright. I'll go take care of it.” He peeked at me, and then he shrugged his huge body through the doorway.

The door was splayed open. It taunted me.

---