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“Safe words. As in, two words. Really proving my ‘smartest person in the room’ point.”
“Stop being so damn mean!”
“I am not a nice person. I don’t know where you got that insane idea from.”
“No shit.”
I grin, standing and pulling up my jeans. I open the cage, and watch her crawl out slowly. I tap the wooden plank against my foot, looking over her as she moves past me. As soon as she clears the cage door, she rocks back on her knees and sighs in relief.
“Did I cure your claustrophobia?” I ask.
She shoots me a look. “Not even close.”
She moves to stand, but I place the wood on top of her head. “No standing.”
“What?” she squeaks.
“‘No shit’? Really? You thought you were going to get away with that? You can fucking crawl.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
blair
“That’s right. Crawl for me, Blair. Crawl like the pathetic little slut you are.”
You would think being completely debased by this man would be doing a number on my self-esteem. That it would be causing some sort of existential crisis where I second-guess every single thing about myself for enjoying it, but it’s having the opposite effect. Sure, in the beginning maybe. But now? Being broken down and seeing my pieces strewn out over the dirty floor is one of the most liberating things I’ve ever experienced.
There is no place here for perfect Blair.
No, here that version of myself is so far out of reach her edges have gone fuzzy.
This Blair, the one who is crawling on her hands and knees across splintered wood while her hunter closes in, is the only version that makes sense.
I’m not sure how to explain it, or that I even could if given the opportunity. It doesn’t fucking matter anyway. I don’t recognize myself anymore.
I can feel the skin on my knees and palms ripping, but the pain is pushed so far back into the recesses of my mind I barely register it. All I can focus on is my pounding heart and the fire-hot blood pumping furiously in my veins.
I crawl until the crown of my head slams into one of the walls.
I let out a strained hiss and rub at the place where a massive knot is already beginning to reveal itself.
“Gotta be more careful, princess. That sounded like it hurt.” Jackson’s taunting voice echoes through the narrow passageway.
This time isn’t like the others. He is too close, and there’s no where to fucking run.
I try to get up to my feet, using the molding that sits halfway up the wall to lift my weight. My arms feel like jello, shaking uncontrollably as I pull up. Bracing myself against the wall I try to take a deep breath, needing to get my adrenaline in check before my heart quite literally explodes.
I blink rapidly, trying to force my eyes to adjust to the darkness around me.
There is no way out.
No place to hide.
A faux window with tattered curtains is centered on a small wall.
It’s a terrible idea, but at this point there is no other option.
I try to keep my footsteps as quiet as possible, not even flinching when my toe catches on an exposed nail.
