Page 47 of The Monster of Hotel No. 7
“No,” she snarls back. “Tell me what you want. Tell me why you have this place. What is it? A tomb for me? For you? How long have you planned this? You said I could keep asking questions—”
I snap my head up and stand once more.
Turning my back to her, I lift up the stool and throw it as hard as I can across the room. It hits the wall with a violent crash, the same way my heart is thrashing in my ribcage. Then it collides with the floor, metal screeching along cement.
The silence that follows is jarring.
But she doesn’t let me stand in it for long.
“Touch me,” she says, a command. “I am still unafraid. Touch me right now and answer my questions. Touch me andlet me touch you.”
I spin toward her, then take two steps until I am crouched over her again.
I don’t touch her with my hands.
I brace myself on the edge of the chair arms, then I dip my head and bite her breast, digging what I have left of my teeth into her skin.
Half-mad.That’s what her shirt says, I remember. That’s what she’s made me, after all these years of being inside my brain.
I dig deeper with my teeth, hearing her gasp, and I don’t stop, her skin giving way beneath my sharp canines. The hint of iron floods my mouth; it is a precursor to the blood loss she could take.
I suck her nipple, flick my tongue along it, then pull back to look up at her as she squirms, the buckles clanking.
I scraped the needle against her before, testing her sensitivity, and it was so gorgeous, watching her squirm with fear.
I don’t have a needle now, but I don’t need one. I can take more flesh with my teeth, as it is.
I reach for her, smoothing my hand over where I bit her, and she lets out a soft whimper, her eyes darting to mine. But she doesn’t tell me to stop.What is wrong with you, Karia? That you pretend for someone like me?
I palm her then, grateful for the entire handful of her as I squeeze and shove her breast up, testing the elasticity, playing with her now. Before tonight, I had never touched a naked woman and I enjoy the way her skin feels so pliable here, but not quite yielding completely.
I could do this all night.
I just fucking might.
“I only told you a fraction of what he did to me, over you.” I keep toying with her as she watches me, helpless to stop me. “Stein was inventive with his experiments, and crueler with his punishment. So many stitches of things he burrowed beneath my skin. But once when he saw me watching you from my window, he quietly came up behind me and cracked my nose against the glass pane. I had Betta fish then, and afterward, blood running down my chin, he plucked up one of the mini aquariums, the size of a cup, and forced me to open my mouth. But it wasn’t enough for me to swallow it down.” I grin, feeling her pulse fly beneath my palm. “He would force me to chew it, lumps of scales and the soft fin squishing between my teeth.” I release her only to grab her other nipple, yanking on it and dropping my gaze to strain my eyes and watch her skin flex, elastic and smooth as I twist the pink bud between my fingers. It is only outlines I can see, but her bare body is burned into my brain now.
She lurches forward to ease the sting and I push my tongue through the spot where my central incisor should be, breathing a small laugh.
“Does it hurt, Little Sun?” I ask her quietly, still gripping her tightly. “Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” she says through gritted teeth.
I flick my gaze up to her. “My teeth disappeared for you, too. Watching Von carry you on his back down the street one night, Stein took one of my molars with a plier. He made me stare out onto Ritual Drive and you smiled as blood gushed in my mouth. The tooth broke into pieces, and he had to fish them out, jabbing at my gums along the way. The others were for different infractions, but never over another girl.”
I see the shadow of her chin is angled down as she tries to watch me hurt her, mutilate and play with her nipple, her big blue eyes blurring with tears, and I imagine a few slipping free, clinging to her dark lashes. “I like your smile,” she says softly, then she peers up at me with some kind of twisted wonder, the way the whites of her eyes shine. “And this... It doesn’t hurt me. I can take worse, Sullen.”
There is no way she is real.
It is impossible.
Maybe this is some sort of trick. A more elaborate game than the kind Stein used to play. Perhapssheis my captor.Thisis the way my body becomes ready for Stein’s ascent into godhood.
And just as I think it, just as I realize with a slimy cold it must be true, the door to my hidden room thuds open, slamming against the opposite wall.
I release her, spinning at once to shield her with my own body. She is helpless strapped to this chair and I made her that way.She is my responsibility.
I see only shadows beyond the door, but I hear more footfalls follow.
