Chapter 15
My feet scrabble in the dirt of the barn, and when he lets me go, it’s such a shock that I fall to my knees with a gasp.
My instincts scream at me to get up before he can take advantage of my position, but when I do manage to stumble to my feet, I find him just…
looking at me. Just staring at me from behind the eyes of the wolf-skull mask, his hands in the pockets of his dark jeans.
It’s hard to see much of anything in the barn, and I nervously fumble for my phone, flicking on the light to flare between us.
He still doesn’t move.
“Satisfied?” my stalker asks, finally prowling a little closer. “I’m not a ghost, Persy. I’m just as real as you and starving.”
“Then go eat a sandwich,” I snap, voice higher than I intended it to be.
Taking a step back, I try to keep space between us, but he lunges forward again, surprising me with his speed, and once more grabs me by my hair.
This time he twines my long, auburn ponytail around his hand, drawing me in and forcing me to my knees in front of him.
“You’re adorable,” he tells me, his other hand coming up to stroke through my bangs.
“Absolutely adorable, you know that? You talk so much shit when I’m not touching you, or when you think you’re safe.
But we both know you aren’t safe, and you aren’t as brave as you’re pretending to be. Not with me.”
“How did you even know I was here?” I snap as my fingers grip his gloves, looking for any place that I can dig in to make him let go.
His grip is like iron, and he’s strong enough that I can’t force him to lift his arm so I can get up.
I’m stuck on my knees until he decides otherwise, or until I can shock him into letting go. “I didn’t post about this. I didn’t—”
“You never plug things in, you know?” he cuts me off smoothly, and the words don’t make a lot of sense as they ring in my ears. “Your phone, your headphones. Your power bank. You’re a little bit scatterbrained, I’ve come to realize. Not that I mind.”
“Scatterbrained?” I hiss. “What are you—” But my words die as the meaning of his sink in like I’ve swallowed an anchor that’s just now made its way to my stomach.
My power bank in the kitchen.
My headphones that mysteriously ended up on their charger, when I was sure I accidentally left them hooked over my chair.
And my phone on the nightstand, plugged in, when I was sure it would’ve been lost in my sheets or on the floor, instead.
A cold shiver goes through me that has nothing to do with the temperature outside.
This kind of cold can’t be mitigated by the soft, cozy hoodie I’m wearing, and my muscles tense as every instinct in me says I need to run.
“You’ve been in my house,” I finally whisper, once I’ve swallowed down the terror clawing up my throat. “You…you’ve moved stuff. You—”
“You keep such detailed notes,” he interrupts smoothly. With the light of my phone still shining from my tight-fingered grip, I can just see his face tilt down towards me. “It’s so easy to know where to go when you keep everything so organized for me.”
“But how did you…?”
“I like reading up on your schedule while I watch you sleep.”
Everything seems to just…stop.
Distantly, I can hear the crickets outside, and the creaking from the sagging wood that could honestly fall in on us at any minute.
“You what?” I murmur, sure I’ve heard him wrong.
“Watch. You. Sleep.” He tsks lightly, and shakes my head ever so gently by his grip in my hair. “Come on. Don’t freak out on me now. This is too easy, pretty girl. You have to make this a little more fun. I shouldn’t be able to make you freeze just with that. I haven’t hurt you, have I?”
When I don’t answer, he shakes me again, until I stammer out, “N-no. You haven’t.”
“But I could. I could have hurt you anytime I wanted to. Outside The Waffle Wagon after you eat your waffles drenched in butter and chocolate. At your home, while you sleep curled up under your blankets with that sweet, vulnerable look that no one else gets to see.” His other hand cups my jaw, glove rough against my skin.
“I could’ve hurt you at any of the haunts you’ve been to this year, but instead, all I want to do is play. So play with me, Scaredy Cat. Let me give you what you want. What you need.”
“You don’t know what I need or want,” I accuse, trying and failing to jerk to my feet. He easily keeps me in place, and I wonder just how strong he is that he can keep me on my knees with just a hand in my hair.
His hum is thoughtful, and I turn my phone light a little, trying to get a better look at him.
“I think I have a pretty good idea.” Without warning, he jerks me to my feet, shifting his grip so he’s holding onto my wrists behind my back.
“You know the stories about Mill House, right? Of course you do. That’s why you’re here.
” He’s almost conversational as he forces me to walk further into the barn toward the workshop area across from the old, broken stalls.
“Obviously,” I hiss, trying to drag my feet in the dirt, but he barely seems to notice.
“Everyone always focuses on the scary, demon-infested basement. But you and I, we know better. We know that there was just as much action out here. Do you remember what Jeremy Lane did to his wife, Persy?”
Knowing what he’s talking about certainly doesn’t bring me any comfort.
If anything, it makes me fight him harder.
I kick and snarl, hissing and lunging like a cornered animal about to meet its death.
My phone drops to the dirt, but I can’t pick it up when he’s still steering me toward the workbench.
“Stop!” I demand, though it comes out as more of a plea. “Please! Please, I didn’t do anything to you!” Not only that, but I don’t want to die. Especially in a way that would mimic what a deranged psycho did to his family. “I don’t even know you!”
“You don’t,” he agrees. “And you’re right.
You’ve done nothing at all to me.” He suddenly whirls me around, dragging me close and trapping my arms between my body and his.
With one arm wrapped around my lower back, he leans in with a soft, satisfied sound, until the eyes of the wolf-skull are only inches from my own.
“But that doesn’t mean I don’t have a whole list of things I want to do to you.
And I’m going to take my time going through each and every one.
Now”—his hands trail down my sides and I squirm, once more trying to break free—“why don’t you be a good girl and tell me what Jeremy Lane did in here, hmm?
You’re the more entertaining of the two of us.
And honestly? You probably know the stories better than I do, don’t you, Persy?
” The way he says it sounds like praise, like he’s proud of me and being an encouraging boyfriend instead of a psycho about to end my life painfully.
“I don’t think I want to tell you,” I whisper, fingers flexing as I continue to squirm and writhe against him.
My stalker only chuckles, and he leans forward to kiss my temple like I’ve said something cute. “So mistrustful of me, aren’t you?” he teases. “When all I’ve done is given you what you want and stood up for my pretty little Scaredy Cat.”
“I think that stops winning you gold stars when you hold me hostage and torture me in a dilapidated old barn.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, but he isn’t angry, judging by his snicker.
“I’m only holding you hostage if you don’t want to be here.” I don’t know how to take that. There’s no way I could want to be here, especially when he spins me around to shove me against the worktable, bracing myself on my forearms against the old, creaking wood. “Now tell me the story.”
It’s not a request. Not with the growl in his voice and the way he continues to hold me in place. One hand goes to my hair, his fingers combing through it in a mockery of affection. Though if he’s pretending, he’s certainly good at feigning tenderness while holding me here.
Taking a breath, I close my eyes, once more testing to see if there’s a way for me to get out of this.
My feet slide and scrape in the dirt, though I can’t even slither to the ground with the way he’s holding me in place.
The reality of how trapped I am just serves to make my insides feel like they’re melting, as if at least part of me can save itself from my stalker’s intent.
“H-he brought her to the barn,” I murmur, each word leaving me like it’s being dragged from my lips.
One hand trails down my spine, pulling a shudder from me, the other still in my hair.
“She begged him not to kill her. She promised she’d do anything.
Please don’t make me go into detail,” I add with my eyes shut tight.
“Because you’re afraid, since I have you here in the same place she was killed?”
“Because that feels a little disrespectful,” I shoot back.
He laughs, full-throated and amused as hell.
“Poor little Scaredy Cat. You don’t have to lie to me.
You’re afraid I’ll do something awful to you.
” He moves his hand from my back and it slams down on the wooden table next to me, fingers curled against the wood.
He leans in close when I flinch, his body pressed flush to mine.
“But, baby girl, I’m only doing exactly what you crave.
” His hips arch, grinding against my ass, showing me his growing interest in the situation.
My heart races in my chest, a thrill of fear and anticipation shooting through me, though I try to tell myself that all I feel is the fear. “Stop,” I hiss, writhing against him. But he takes it as encouragement to grind back against me.
“No,” my stalker tells me almost sweetly. “You want this. You want me to take you right here, right where it happened.”
Immediately I shake my head as much as I can with his fingers tight in my hair. “Are you joking?” I demand, trying and failing to jerk upward. “That’s fucked up. I’m not—”