Chapter 44
PIP
My eyes flutter open, gradually adjusting to the dim, unfocused world around me.
The surroundings are a haze of indistinct shapes and shadows, and a wave of dizziness washes over me. Accompanied by a nauseating churn in my stomach.
Before me, a human silhouette towers, its features obscured by the blur.
My mind races as I struggle to piece together where I am and how I got here.
Attempting to lift myself, I realize with a jolt that my arms are firmly secured, the rough ropes binding my wrists to the cold, hard chair.
“What’s going on?” I say, my voice sounding thick to my own ears. I gradually make out the human shape in front of me.
It’s the woman who interviewed me.
But she's no longer wearing a non-descript black suit.
Instead, she's put on my wedding dress! The 1940s number that Snickers had selected for me.
Though her eyes are partly covered by the bridal veil she wears over her face, I can see their intensity.
“Why are you doing this? You’re not Vanessa’s assistant. Who are you?” I ask, my voice feeling strangely muffled and distant to my own ears.
“You know who I am,” she says, weaving closer, an evil smile playing about her lips.
"I am Lila Carmine. I created the Snickerdoodles as a way of worshiping the human god that is DJ Snickers. He is mine, and I am his."
"Why have you tied me up?”
“Must I explain everything to you?” she says with a hint of irritation, her words dripping with disdain.
"Yes,” I say, trying to buy time.
I focus on the surface of the rope. It's nylon.
Like the kind of rope my cousin used to tie my hands for our magician act in Salem that one summer.
Of course, my cousin tied a looser knot. But knowing my past success with this type of rope gives me hope of survival. I try to work my hands free.
"I warned you to stay away," she replies, her voice a chilling whisper.
"You're the one who left all the notes. And it was you who defaced my aunt's tree."
"Yes," she confirms, her eyes dark with determination. "It was my last warning to you. But you wouldn't listen."
I watch Lila closely as she picks up a metal can. The cap twists off with a crack, and the sharp, acrid scent of gasoline fills the air like a toxic fog.
My pulse quickens. My fingers work faster at the knot.
She smiles—a sick, twisted smile that makes my skin crawl—before slowly replacing the cap.
"Snickers is mine. He belongs to me," she declares with a fierce possessiveness. Her eyes blaze with anger.
"I’m fine with him having his fill of girls he meets on the road. But it was different with you. I saw that from the start, the way his eyes lingered on you."
"You’ll never get away with it," I retort, my voice steady despite the tension in the air.
"This is the Plaza Hotel. Authorities will notice the flames, and they’ll lock you up for the rest of your life."
I continue to work on the ropes binding my wrists. For the first time, I sense some give.
There may be a chance...
She shrugs, a bitter smile twisting her lips. "It doesn’t matter. I’m already in jail. You’ve stolen my man."
"But he’s not mine," I insist, my voice rising with desperation. "It was a fake relationship. A charade to repair his reputation and thrust his company into the limelight. Take him, he’s yours."
Her eyes narrow. "How can I when you've bewitched him? I’ve seen him kiss you many times—you’re always kissing, every single shot."
"We’re play-acting," I say, my tone earnest, hoping to convey the truth. "I’m hired to kiss him. Do you want me to show you proof?"
"I don’t need proof." Her voice drips with venom. "You’ve stolen him from me, and now you’re going to get your just desserts."
She grasps the can firmly, her fingers wrapping around the cold metal.
Then she gives it a vigorous shake.
I hear the liquid inside sloshing with a determined rhythm, as if underscoring her intent.
A vivid image flashes in my mind—my body engulfed in flames, reduced to ashes in an instant.
Very much like the scorched initials and intricate etching on my aunt's oak tree.
The realization settles over me like a cold chill.
Keeping my body still, I continue my effort to work my hands free from their restraint. I've made progress, but it's not fast enough.
All I can do is send a silent prayer into the void.