The acidic smell of my vomit permeates the air in the small, cold room. Filling my lungs with it brings on more nausea. A few times I give in, until nothing more is left inside my stomach. Still retching, I lunge for the place the door should be. My palms hit the cold glass, and my screams bounce off the mirrored surfaces.

“Let me out, you sick bastard,” I shout.

Time passes. The only things I get are a sore throat and red, aching palms.

After a while my voice gives out, and my screams fade to whimpers.

This room has cameras too. I don’t see them, but I know he’s watching me from a distance as I take on a fight I can’t win.

Beaten for the moment, I sink to the floor and draw my knees to my chest. The best thing would be to conserve whatever energy I have left instead of burning it up in vain. Who knows when I’ll get something to eat or drink?

I have no choice but to wait and find out what awaits me. The way I see it, there are only two ways out of this horror show. He’ll either leave me here to die, or let me out to kill me himself.

“You might find this hard to believe,” he says, his voice coming out of nowhere, “but seeing you suffer kills me.”

My gaze races across the mirrors. His presence is powerful, filling every corner of the room.

“I can switch off your pain in an instant. All you have to do is accept our marriage. We could have something beautiful.”

My chin drops to my knees, and I fix my gaze into space. I imagine I’m seeing the tiny rotten particles that make up the heavy, stinky air filling the room. The air that swirls around my body, a suffocating blanket that wraps itself around my frame, sucking the clean air from my lungs, smothering me. I curl a hand around my neck and part my lips to breathe.

“What’s the matter? I thought you wanted to talk. Let’s do that. I can hear you fine from up here. After the stunt you pulled earlier, you can’t expect me to open the door.”

A tense moment passes where he says nothing. I don’t fill the silence either, though my thoughts are flying all over the place. I have no experience reasoning with monsters.

“Very well.” His voice is thick with disapproval. “If you’re not in the mood to talk, let me show you a little something. A little entertainment, if you will. You must be bored out of your mind down there.”

I tighten my arms around my knees and bite my tongue. Hurling insults at him would do more harm than good. Who knows what else he has lined up for me?

Within my despair, something baffles and disturbs me. How could a man so experienced with prison himself put another person in that position?

The silence is replaced by momentary darkness, but then one of the walls lights up and a screen comes down over the mirror. In an instant, I remember the night Chelsea forced me to go watch a movie with her and Neil at the dorms. That was the night I heard about Judson’s crimes, the news that should have sent me running in the opposite direction. It feels like years ago.

I blink to help my eyes adjust. What could he possibly want to show me? What kind of weapon does he have to torture me with?

The screen flickers, and then images appear. My mind is so muddled it takes a few seconds to recognize the familiar face. The woman on the screen is me. Damien, or Judson, or whatever he calls himself is showing me a slideshow, my life in pictures.

I shudder as each photo melts into the next. So my privacy was invaded without my knowledge. I’d suspected he’d been watching me from his prison cell, but I never thought he’d been looking so closely.

A slice of my life plays out in front of my eyes. Me, walking on and off campus, sitting in lectures, having a meal at the snack bar, sorting books at Millie’s Book Corner, even sleeping.

This man was a part of every second of my life in Oaklow, even when I thought he was locked away.

My eyes blur when Chelsea appears on the screen. There are the two of us at yoga, then sharing a milkshake at Milky Lake. I long to be with her, to talk to her, hug her.

There are also several images of me and my mother from the day she showed up to see me in Oaklow. In spite of her imperfections, the mistakes she made in raising me, she’s still my mom. In this moment of loneliness and frustration, I long for her arms around me. I’d do anything for a little comfort from home.

The last few photos are of me and Chelsea at her engagement party. I’m sipping champagne, swimming in the ocean, talking to Milton. I had agreed to go on a date with him—a date that never happened.

I feel as though I’m seeing snapshots from someone else’s life, someone I once knew. Someone stupid and naïve.

“Stop. Switch it off.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “You had no right. You had no right to stalk me.” It hurts to digest the fact that he had stolen my life long before kidnapping me.

“You sure that’s what you want?” The smile in his voice is evident. He’s enjoying my misery, despite what he says. “I have so much more to show you.”

My fury brings me to my feet, and my hands hit the screen. “I said switch it off.”

“You still don’t get it, do you?” He chuckles. “I’m the one calling the shots around here. I’ll stop when I’m done.”

I sink to the ground again, shutting my eyes and putting my hands over my ears. My hands prove useless when the room fills with loud moaning sounds, which slip right through my fingers. Shadows are moving beyond my eyelids. I know what’s on the screen before I open my eyes.

My hands move from my ears to my mouth. Hypnotized, I watch the video clip. I’m lying beneath the person I believed to be Judson Devereux, eyes closed, as he slams into me. Like a fool, I take everything he’s giving me, suck the poison from his lips.

There I was, thinking I had been waiting for the right guy to have sex with, and I ended up losing my virginity to a psychopath. It disgusts me even more that I enjoyed any part of it.

Like a child, I press my hands over my ears again, but my eyes refuse to close. In the moment I’m about to climax, the screen goes blank and slides back up. The mirror reappears.

He’s talking to me again. I don’t want to listen, but what choice do I have? I can rage all I want, but the truth remains that the only way out of this situation is by giving the monster what he wants. I drop my hands and lean my head back.

“I hope you enjoyed that.” His voice oozes satisfaction and confidence. “Am I right in thinking your first time was unforgettable? Not many women can say that, you know.” He clears his throat. “One day soon we’ll finish what we started. I still owe you an orgasm. But first you have to accept me as your husband.”

“Fuck you.” My anguish shatters any shred of my control.

“Oh, you will...eventually. But when I do fuck you again, I want you to want it as much as you did the first time.” He pauses. “I don’t want to have sex with you. I want to make love to you, my wife.”