Page 118 of Beautiful Scars

There’s a moment where I firmly believe this is it for me. He’s decided to off me. Everything else, the whole tour, was just a ruse to lull me into a false sense of security.

But then my eyes adjust to the dark, barely.

It’s not a tomb. It’s just—

There’s a chuckle behind me. “A wee hidey-hole.”

Judging by the circular walls, I’d say we’re in one of the turrets. There’s a tiny slit in the wall I assume was for defense, and a hole in the corner of the floor.

I shuffle over to the window slit and peer out, spotting the same boats I noticed earlier.

“Arrow slit,” Kill says. “I dunno if that’s the technical term.”

“Sounds accurate,” I reply, before moving across to the other side. There really isn’t much to see in here except some carvings etched into the stone, so I go and peer down the hole. You can see the grass that surrounds the back of the castle. “And this is where they dump the hot tar on enemy heads.” I saw that in an episode of Game of Thrones once.

Kill starts laughing. “That’s the toilet, you half-wit.”

I’ve never moved my head so fast in my life. “Jesus!”

He’s still chuckling. Even in the darkness, it suits him. “We done here? Or do you want another Kill Hendry fort-experience special?”

Are wedone?

I haven’t even thought about my escape plan.

And no wonder. The man is such a master at pretending this is real, it’s easy to forget that it’s not.

“Yeah. Let’s go home.” Oh shit. I saidhome.“I mean—”

“I know what you mean,” he says.

Well…that makes one of us.