Page 25 of Cut Deeper

She’ll leave you.

I sat up, lifting her with me.

“Let’s get washed up and get you fed.”

“Can you cook?”

“I’m not a child.”

“Hm. Rich people are often incompetent at basic tasks.”

I considered choking her, but decided it was easier to just imagine it instead. If she passed out, she wouldn’t eat. I could just singe her food. Make her taste ash.

Her fingers snapped near my face.

“Stop daydreaming about killing me and feed me.”

I smiled and dunked her head beneath the water.

She came up with fists flying.

I chuckled and grabbed them before she made contact.

“Ugh, you had me in cum water,” she gasped, scrunching up her face.

“A nice facial for you,” I murmured, running some hot water before searching for a fresh washcloth.

“I am biting my tongue.”

That was progress—better than having a knife stuck in my neck.

?? ?? ??

I turned again, placing my hand beneath my pillow and feeling the cool sheets beneath. I wasn’t sure if I liked having someone in my bed. I’d never shared one before, and it put me on edge—but then I saw how peacefully she slept beside me, and it made me feel petty.

Tonight had been pleasant. Dinner and a movie.

I turned onto my back again.

After restitching Eva, I’d put her back in the cage. Gareth had been sullen, and the burn mark on his face made me happy. His words had reminded me of my mother’s, but his were aimed at Anne.

I turned to face her and moved close enough to place my arm around her waist. She gasped and sat up. I switched the lamp on. The panic faded as she took in her surroundings.

She yawned and lay back down, but moved closer. When she didn’t move or say anything else, I switched the light off. She had dozens of cuts along her upper arm, and more further down. Her inner thighs were the same—cut after cut.

I placed my arm around her and closed my eyes.

At least all my cuts were on the inside.

I kissed the top of her head and fell promptly asleep.

Chapter 13

Anne

When I woke up, Ethan was half on top of me, his arm and leg flung over me as if preventing me from escaping. Last night he’d made me a cheeseburger and fries. Not just any burger—top-quality cut of meat, imported cheese, gherkins that were probably soaked in virgin brine.

Then we’d just sat through a movie in his cinema room. No phone, no distractions, and every so often I’d catch myself staring at him. He knew, and his fingers would begin to move along my arm. There was no sex or talking, and it was weirdly enjoyable.