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Then the blade cuts me again. It does not go through me. It is a bright line in the skin above my cock, not as deep as the one on my thigh. The blood runs down into the hair, over the glove, over my stomach.

The sound I make is filthy. It is also afraid. I cannot tell which one is winning.

“Rhys—fuck—keep your hand there. Don’t move those fingers from around my cock. I asked for it. I asked—”

The phone lights in the cupholder.

Rhys’s name lights up the screen.

It has me puzzled for a moment. How can the person next to me be calling me at the same time? The figure does not move. It does not reach for the phone. It only taps the mask once, like it wants me to look.

I look at the white face. Then I look at the name on the screen again.

If he is here, he cannot also be calling.

I don’t know how this is happening, but I’m too fucking aroused right now to give a shit. I hit speaker. I do not look away from the mask.

“Shane?”

That voice. It’s him. Rhys.

“Rhys?” I say.

“I am on the road,” he says. I can hear the car. “I am coming. I am not in that bay. Get out. If someone is in that seat, that is not me.”

The mask does not move.

The glove on my cock tightens and I let out a light groan.

“What?” I say. It is a stupid word, but it’s the only one I have right now.

“Get out of the car, Shane. Now. Lock it. Drive. That is not me.”

I look at the mask. I look at the cuts I asked for. Throat. Chest. Thigh. The line above my cock. The seat and my shirt are wet.

“He’s right here,” I say, and I don’t even know who I am telling. “He is in the seat. He has his hand on me. Rhys. He is in the seat.”

“That is not me, Shane. Listen to my voice. I am on the road. I am not in that car. I can hear you. Get out.”

“I can’t,” I say. “The belt is on and I’m secured in my seat. I can’t move.”

“Take it off. Use your hand, whatever. Shane. Please.”

I pull at the buckle and my fingers slip from all the blood. The strap holds the cut on my chest like it wants me to stay.

“It won’t—” I swallow. “Rhys. I—how is this? What’s going on? You’re supposed to be—it was you. I thought it was you. I told him where to touch me. I told him to cut. I thought it was a game. I thought you finally wanted me.”

My words are all scrambled and they don’t make sense, not even to me.

“I know. I am coming. Stay on the phone, Shane. Do not play along. You hear me? Do not kiss it. Do not do what it says.”

I hear his voice but I’m struggling to take any of it in, as the pain goes right through me. Then a voice comes out of the mask.

“Pretty when you bleed.”

“No,” I say. I pull at the seat belt again. “No. Take it off. Take the mask off. If you’re not Rhys, then take off the mask and tell me who you are. Say something in his voice. You cannot have both. You cannot be in the seat and on the phone.”

Everything around me starts to blur, and I’m finding it harder to put the words together.