"What about her?"
"She...didn't die. Right?"
"No." Mr. Sinister's voice is dry. "She did not."
My body nearly sags with relief. "Thank—-"
"But of course, that does not mean I haven't killed anyone."
Shit.
I want to cry, but I'm also just the slightest bit tempted to stomp my feet like a child. "You're just saying that to scare me."
"Indeed," my kidnapper confirms without shame, "but it doesn't make my words any less true."
"And now that we have my life-snuffing past established, are we still in agreement?"
Vanilla...vanilla...va—-I can't!
"You scare me so much," I blurt out.
"I know."
"Have you ever killed anyone innocent?" When I see him seem to hesitate, I don't even think twice about begging. "Please don't lie."
"Then the answer to that would have to be...no."
THANK GOD. THANK YOU—-
"May we continue now?"
I look at him uncertainly. "You still mean it, right? That I'll...enjoy it if I just let myself?"
"Of course, my dove. You'll still enjoy it," my kidnapper promises, "but first..."
I should have known there'd be a catch.
"The punishment I have in mind," Mr. Sinister says softly, "requires you to be restrained."
Vanilla, I remind myself desperately. All of this is just vanilla...oh God, I can't even remember what's next, and all I can do is look at him pleadingly. "What if I promise not to escape?"
"I'd believe you," he says right away, "but it wouldn't change a thing."
Oh God.
My heart begs me to run and hide, but my body remains disconnected, and all I'm able to do is watch him as he gently takes hold of my arms.
It's over in seconds, with my arms stretched parallel along the back of the sofa, and my wrists locked in place by manacles. Not just ordinary ones either, but custom-designed, built-in manacles, and the sight of it makes me feel dizzy.
Vanilla. With. Chocolate. Coated. Chili.
Mr. Sinister is just like that unforgettable flavor of ice cream, and if I keep thinking of him that way, the more likely I'll survive this.
So eyes on the ice cream, Sara.
Just keep thinking of the ice cream.
He leaves my side for a moment, and when he comes back he parks a chair in front of me before taking a seat. "Do the restraints still bother you?"
Why does he keep asking questions I find impossible to answer honestly?
"They're...um..."
But it doesn't.
One moment, we're kissing, and another moment he just...stops.
Mr. Sinister lifts his head to cut our kiss short, and the aching emptiness that instantly wells up inside of me makes my head reel. I want us to kiss again so badly, so, so badly that I don't even realize I'm already straining against my manacles until I hear its telltale rattle.
Oh my God.
The mortifying sound brings me back to my senses, and if my limbs were free, I'd have curled up in a ball to hide myself.