Page 42 of Melancholia

Maybe that’s why when I get out, I’m too slow to react to his hand on my arm.

“Not just yet,” Amir tells me, the locks clicking ominously. “You haven’t heard the rules for our next game yet.”

My heart flutters in my chest, and my veins seem to suddenly frost over. “I—no. I don’t want to play anymore,” I say quickly, turning to face him in the suddenly too small car. The black interior with soft blue lights somehow makes the shadows deeper, and I can barely see his face in the darkness.

Yet I know his eyes are on me. Something in me can just tell, and a shiver runs between my shoulder blades as he sits there. Silent.

Watching me.

“Say my name.”

The words fall into the darkness between us, and I’m sure I’ve heard him wrong.

“What?”

“You heard me.” His thumb strokes over my knuckles. “Say my name.”

“That’s not a game,” I whisper, my voice much softer than his.

“Why is that?”

“Because a game has a winner and a loser.”

“And so does this one.” He stops stroking over my knuckles, but doesn’t let go. “Say my name, Nell. That’s all you have to do. Say it like we’re friends.”

Like we’re friends?

“Amir.” It costs me nothing to let his name roll off my tongue, but when I do, his thumb is moving again, rubbing across my skin like I’ve done something right.

“One more time. But this time.” Suddenly, his other hand brushes my face, and he cups my cheek to hold me so I’m facing him in the car. “Say my name and make me believe you don’t hate me, little mortician.”

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. Not even air escapes my lips in the confines of the Range Rover, and my free hand clutches at the door, even though I know the childproof locks are engaged, thanks to the little light I can just barely see over my shoulder. I take a breath, somehow still so fucking aware that he’s looking at me and only me.

“Amir.” His name is a sigh across my lips, breathed out like the air from my lungs. Not a sigh or a scoff. Barely more than a murmur.

For a moment, I wonder if he’ll tell me to do it again. He doesn’t respond for a few seconds, but then, without warning, his hands are gone.

“Good girl.” The words send something snaking through my insides, and I push it away to examine it never. The child lock disengages, and immediately I have the door open.

“I’ll see you in a few days.” He doesn’t even move when I struggle to unbuckle myself. Doesn’t look concerned as I nearly fall out of his vehicle and onto the old pavement of the parking lot.

“Why?” I snap, finally catching my balance. “I don’t want⁠—”

“To play again, Nell.”

I meet his eyes, now illuminated by the overhead light. In the white LEDs, they look…eerie. Unnatural, for sure. And even a bit ghostly. No reply comes to me, though. Not one thing to say. So I simply close the door. Not hard. Not fast.

Polite, even.

Then I turn and dive into the safety of my old, second-hand sedan that suddenly feels like a fortress against evil, while Amir pulls out of the parking lot.

Leaving me in the dark, but this time without the feeling of his gaze on me.

I have no idea what wakes me up.

But I know that the sun is shining offensively through a tiny crack in my curtains, and I’m surprised my skin hasn’t caught fire yet. Sitting up, I press my hands to my face, sighing out against my palms.

The events of last night come pouring in like there’s a giant leak in my skull, and I groan at, well, everything. Just everything.