Page 82 of The Boy I Loved
He let out a disappointed sigh. “I didn’t think so.” He released my hand, moving his between the bars. His bloody fingertips skated over my nipple, pulling a nervous and disgusted shudder from me. “I have a gift for you.”
“W-what is it?”
Instead of answering, he grabbed the key fob and pulled out one of the keys. Taking it between his fingers, he inserted it into the lock and twisted. My hands dropped from the bars, and I took a careful step backwards, fear expanding through my entire body as I watched him. He was unhinged, unpredictable, and demented. There was no telling what kind ofgifthe would have brought me.
Once he stepped inside, he closed and locked the door behind him. He was silent, cold, and calculating as he assessed me. After a few moments, he stalked forward, his shoes leaving a pattern of bloody footprints on the cement floor.
“Did I do something wrong?” I asked, taking another step backwards.
He didn’t say anything, and that was worse than if he’d just told me yes. He circled his arm around my waist, pulling my naked form flush against his blood-soaked body. His hand dropped down, gripping my ass in a firm hold. He ran his nose up the column of my throat, inhaling my scent before moving his lips to mine and kissing me roughly. A startled gasp escaped me, which only gave him the access he wanted. His tongue slipped through the gap between my lips, tangling with my own in a fight for dominance.
What did he want from me?
I wasn’t vain or selfish in any sense of the word—at least … I didn’t think so. But from my knowledge, he didn’t act this way with any of the other girls. He was cruel. Hell, he was covered in another woman’s blood after raping her and here he was, kissing and groping me. He groaned against my lips, his chest heaving erratically.
“Fuck,” he whispered, nipping my lower lip between his teeth and tugging it. “You’re trouble.”
I spared a brief glance over at Stacy, who was watching the interaction with wide eyes, confusion swirling through her brown orbs.
Tristan’s voice brought my attention back to him. “Get on the bed.”
Every muscle in my body seemed to lock up, unease coiling around my stomach like a vice of doom. I pulled away from him, stepping back to put more distance between us. I knew better than to cause him trouble when he looked like … this. He was off his fucking rocker.
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to fuck you tonight. I don’t want you dead just yet and I’m not sure I’d be able to stop from slitting that pretty little throat if I allowed myself to lose control.”
My gaze snapped to the knife again. This was him in control?
He was like a viper—cold, calculating, and completely unhinged. I wasn’t sure I’d seen anything so evil, and I’d seen a lot of fucked up shit by now.
Reluctantly, I moved to the bed, lowering myself on it. The weight of my body pushed against the ground underneath, and I had to reposition myself in order to find an illusion of comfort. Tristan moved toward the cell door, placing the knife on the floor and pushing it right outside, just out of reach.
Smart move.
When he returned, he joined me on the bed and fished around in his pocket for something. “I want you to do something for me,” he began. “If you do this without having to force my hand, you’ll be moved upstairs tonight. I’ll even sweeten the deal and let you bring a friend.”
Hope sprouted within my chest. Moving upstairs would provide us with more of a safety net. We’d have more freedom, better food, and human interaction. I’d be able to shower in an actual bathroom that didn’t look like someone had been massacred in there, nor would it smell as rancid and rotten as the bathroom they granted us access to now.
“Every desire has a price,” he continued. “Are you willing to pay it?”
He pulled his hand from his pocket, his fingers curled around the item he possessed, preventing me from seeing it. I could feel the blood covering my face as much as it was his now, repulsion swimming through my gut. But what really had my heart rate accelerating was the item hidden in his palm.
My mind raced with a million different possibilities. What did he want me to do in exchange for getting me out of here? It wasn’tjust my life on the line either. It was whatever friend I chose to bring with me.
Slowly, he uncurled his fingers, revealing a small, bloody item resting in his hand. All I could see was blood, and for a moment, I didn’t understand what I was looking at or what he wanted me to do with it.
“Take it,” he encouraged, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
“What is it?” I asked instead, too scared to reach out and just … take it as he instructed. It was covered in blood and who knew what it was?
His lips curled at the corners. “Look closer.”
Reluctantly, I scooted closer to him, straining my eyes in an attempt to make out the features of the item. At first glance, it was just blood. But on closer inspection, I could make outflesh. Acid burned the back of my throat instantly just as the realization hit me.
“Y-you cut off her—” My sentence broke off and I clutched my stomach, willing the nausea to calm.
His small smile widened into a maniacal grin. “Her clit,” he finished for me.
I shook my head, a mixture of emotions slamming into me—fear, disgust, and confusion. “What do you want me to do with that?” I whispered, knowing it wouldn’t be anything good.
