I inch away from the entrance of my cage, my gaze trained on the intruder. “You’re not my sister.”

His brow teases upward as he casually leans against the doorjamb. “Really? What tipped you off?”

I haven’t interacted with anyone outside of my mom, dad, and sister, and none of them were or are fans of sarcasm. However, I’ve watched enough movies and read enough books that I’m fairly certain he’s being sarcastic. From what I understand, the best way to deal with sarcasm is to match it.

If only I knew how.

Guess I’ll never figure it out until I try.

I clear my throat. “Well, definitely not your girlie hair and facial features.”

His arched brow plops down into a furrow. Then he stares at me hard, making me feel like a zoo animal.

“That was my first try at sarcasm,” I explain, wondering if I missed the mark and he thought I was being serious. “I don’t really think you look like a girl.”

“Thanks for explaining the obvious.” The crinkle at his brow erases as he straightens his stance and enters my room, his heavy boots thudding against the concrete floor.

I open my mouth to warn him not to come any closer. Otherworldly creature or not, he deserves to know what my touch can possibly do to him. But the words get stuck in my mouth as he nears my cage. Only my family has ever been this close to my cage, and they always hurry and drop food, clothes, and cleaning supplies before backing away quickly.

I watch him in awe as his gaze skims the low ceiling and the water dripping down the walls.

There’s a guy in my room. A stranger. Why do I feel so excited about this?

When he’s finished inspecting my room, he turns to me with a smirk. “Lovely set up you have here.”

Okay, I think he’s being sarcastic again.

“Thank you.” I attempt to sound more sarcastic this time, hoping I don’t fail epically again. “My interior designer will be so pleased to hear that you like her work.”

He stares at me, unimpressed, but for the briefest instant, the corners of his lips twitch. “Very funny.”

“Um … Thanks?” I reply, unsure if we’re being sarcastic anymore.

With an eye roll, he begins wandering around the outside of the cage, tracing his fingers along the bars. I have the strongest urge to reach out and brush my fingers along his, but I haven’t touched anyone since I was three years old when my parents informed me that I’d turn into a monster one day. They said we needed to take precautionary measures to make sure I never ever hurt anyone, and that’s when the cage became my home.

Reminded of their warning never to touch anyone, I cower back in my cage and hug my knees to my chest. “You shouldn’t do that,” I whisper.

He stops walking, but his hand remains on the bars. “Do what?”

“Touch my cage,” I say quietly. “You shouldn’t even be in my room.”

He wraps his fingers around the bar. “And why’s that?”

The amusement dancing in his eyes deeply confuses me. Why does he think this is funny?

“Because I’m poison. If you touch me, something bad could happen.” I cast a panicked glance at the door. “How did you even get in here? Wasn’t the house locked? Or did my sister let you …?” My body stiffens. “Wait. Did you do something to my sister? Is that why I haven’t seen her all day?”

He stares at me for an unnerving amount of time before pushing away from the bars and crossing his arms. “How long have you been locked up?”

“No. I’m not answering any of your questions until you answer mine first.” I kneel in my cage and put my hands on my hips. “Did you do something to my sister?”

“And what if I did?” He places both his palms against the front of my cage, his amusement doubling. “Would you reach through the bars and touch me?”

I swiftly shake my head. “No. No matter what you did, no one deserves that punishment.”

His pierced brow cocks. “And what kind of punishment is that?”

I shrug. “You’ll probably think I’m crazy if I tell you.”

“Try me.”

“According to my parents, my touch will cause something worse than death. I’m not sure if that will happen or not, but it’s not like I’m going to try to touch someone to find out.”

“Hmmm …”

“Hmm, as in you think I’m crazy?” I ask. “Or hmm, that’s a very interesting story? I definitely won’t be touching you right now.”

“Hmm, as in hmm …” He grips the bars as he leans in close. “Although, there’s something definitely crazy about you. Or, I guess I should say maddening.”

I frown, feeling silly. “See, I told you you’d think I was crazy.”

“I didn’t say you were crazy. I just said that there’s something crazy about you, which you’ll understand eventually.”

“You make no sense. That’s okay. I don’t really care if you believe me or not. I just want to know what you did to my sister.”

He deliberates something with his gaze fixed on me. “What if I said I killed her?”

I swallow the painful lump in my throat. “Did you?”

His gaze never wavers from mine. “I’m not going to answer that question until you answer mine. What would you do if I told you I killed your sister? Would you try to hurt me? Try to touch me and find out if your touch is truly terrible?”

“No,” I whisper hoarsely, tears stinging my eyes. My answer feels twistedly wrong, but nonetheless true. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

His eyes narrow. “Liar.”

I wipe away a tear that manages to escape. “I’m telling the truth. My touch … it’s supposed to do awful things, and that’s why I won’t ever touch anyone.”

“So, you’re saying you’ve never touched anyone in your entire life?” he questions with cynicism.

I shake my head, more tears pouring out of my eyes. “Not since I was three. Then my parents found out about my curse. They didn’t know when it would happen, so I’ve never touched another human or otherworldly since that day to avoid risking someone getting hurt.”

He steps back and crosses his arms. “And you just accepted what they told you? You didn’t question them?”

“No … Why would I? They’re my parents.”

He stands in front of my cage with his arms folded, a series of emotions flickering across his face. Mainly pity fills his eyes. Then he promptly shakes his head and squares his shoulders while lowering his hands to his sides. “You shouldn’t trust people. Most are liars.”

“My parents weren’t.”

“If you say so.”

I ball my hands into fists at my side, getting frustrated.

Before I can work up a good comeback, he steps toward the door to my cage.

“Since you answered my question, I’ll answer yours. I didn’t kill your sister. No one was home upstairs when I walked in.”

“How did you get in then? Wasn’t the door locked by some magical charm? That’s what my parents always told me?”

He shrugs. “It was. I asked the door to open.”

My brows dip. “What does that mean?”

He smirks. “I bet you’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

I nod eagerly. “I really would. I can tell you’re not human, but I don’t know how I know that. And I don’t know much about otherworldly creatures, except for what I’ve read in books. But books don’t really help when it comes to running into one in real life. Well, maybe they would if I lived in real life and actually saw otherworldly creatures on a daily basis. But since I live in here”—I shrug—“you’re the first anything I’ve met outside of my family in a really long time.”

“How long?”

“Fifteen years.”

His smirk makes a grand appearance again. I can’t decide if I hate it or love it.

“You really shouldn’t have trusted them.”

My lips curve into a hurt frown. “I wish you’d stop saying that.”

“Fine, don’t believe me. I’ll prove it to you.” Then, without warning, he slips his arm through the bars and grabs my arm.

Panic flares up my throat, and I let out a deadly scream, knowing when the noise ends, I’ll be consumed by the guilt of hurting someone.