Carrie
I’m foolish, but I wish that I was holding Jeremy’s hand again rather than his coat. I follow him inside the elegant estate. Not everyone with money is tacky like my parents, I suppose…
I snap out of whatever trance makes me think of Jeremy as anything but a monster. He killed so many people that I went to school with. He probably killed Laurel last night too, since the first attempt didn’t work. No matter how charming, he is a murderer. Still, I know that I can use this peculiar attraction I have for him to my advantage. I’ll do what he says and I’ll figure out a way to escape.
I paid attention as much as I could to where we were going, but ultimately all I really know is that the house is miles away from anyone else. Despite his beautiful mansion, there’s no evidence that some member of his staff might be around. I don’t know if I could even trust someone that worked for him to be an ally, and not keep me prisoner.
The garage has a wall of keys that he locks up with his fingerprint again. It might be difficult to get a car, but it would be even more difficult to run on foot. I’ll have to figure something out.
“I’ll take these to your room, then I’d like to talk with you before dinner. As I said, I know you must have questions.” I nod and follow Jeremy up a staircase that belongs in a fairy tale and not someone’s home; it is white and wrought iron and the most elegant thing I’ve ever seen.
Jeremy is wealthy enough to get away with murder. To have a fleet of cars. Why not live in what is practically a secluded castle?
Upstairs, I walk past several rooms until I step inside the one he motions to, and see something I’ve never seen before. My room, indeed… it’s actually decorated in a way I enjoy. White wicker furniture, delicate lace accents, nothing sparkly or tacky in sight. The bed has an enormous lacy canopy. The wicker vanity has antique bronze brushes alongside modern cosmetics, also in earth tone hues and delicate colors. There’s a closet, where Jeremy places my bag, and I see deep violets and rich red wine hues on dresses, simple blue jeans, gray sweaters. The wardrobe, the room, everything looks like what I would choose for myself if anyone had ever given me the choice. It makes me feel off balance.
“After we talk, you can dress for dinner. I’m making us something special,” Jeremy says. There’s something about the way his eyes regard mine when he smiles. It isn’t the charming way that he has drawn me in with before. It’s like he’s seen the look in my eyes that betrays just how well he must know me.
“Thank you.” I exhale and look around, unable to stay focused on the sight of the room or the acknowledgement in Jeremy’s eyes, pleased that he’s succeeded.
I catch a simple black dress inside the closet and reach out for it. “I-I think this is what I’ll wear,” I tell him. I feel stupid now, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to act. I tell myself that at least I’m being docile, so he doesn’t think I want to run. I can’t be so easily charmed by him, knowing what he is. Knowing what he’s done.
“I’ll give you a moment if you want to unpack?” Jeremy steps back.
Without thinking, I take another step toward him, erasing some of the space he’s put between us. When I realize what I’m doing, I walk to the bed and place his coat on it. “I don’t have many things. I’ll follow you downstairs so that I don’t get lost.” I laugh nervously, wondering if he thinks I’m being strange.
I should be more concerned about how odd this all is. He wants to talk. Jeremy has to know the kinds of questions that will be on my mind.
He nods, smiling again. I watch his hand and it looks like he’s going to touch mine, but instead he places it at the small of my back and guides me out of the room. “The stairs are hard to miss, but I don’t mind offering a helping hand.” Jeremy’s own laugh is warm, honeyed. I feel the sound all over my body.
I want to hate that he has this effect on me, but in truth I’m thrilled to feel these things. I’ve never felt like this about anyone. No one has ever shown such consideration for what I like or enjoy. The idea that he did what he did on the beach, stabbed all those students…as a present? I’m jarred. I don’t know if I should ask him about that. I know I have to ask something, but I hope he’ll do most of the talking.
When we’re back downstairs, he sits in a chair and indicates an antique-looking sofa that is firm but comfortable. I look at the ornate metal edging on the tops and sides. The home matches the man. Wealthy and elegant. Practically regal.
“For every question I ask, you may have one,” Jeremy states.
So much for getting him to do the talking. But I’m intrigued by what he might reveal about himself, given that I do the same. I sit down and suck in a breath. “Okay, you first.” I meet his eyes.
I think he’s pleased by that challenge. My belly flutters at the thought. “No, you’ll go first, Carrie,” Jeremy challenges in return.
“Why did you kill my friends?” I blurt out in an attempt to get the line of inquiry started. I feel guilty saying that because I hated those people almost as much as they hated me. I don’t know why I said that, or why I want to poke the bear like that question might.
“They were not your friends.” Jeremy exhales. “Are you sad that they are dead?”
I suck in my lower lip, chewing it for a moment. I don’t want to answer that question because I don’t want to lie to Jeremy. “No,” I admit. “Do you kill people often?” I don’t know why I’m asking questions like this. I probably don’t want to know the answer. Well, actually, I realize when I watch him smirk, I do want to know. But why? I should be focused on getting out of here, but I want to know more about Jeremy. I want to understand him. I want to understand why I feel like he knows things about me that I don’t have to say. How could he have furnished the room, the wardrobe the way that I liked? I know he watched me, that’s how he was able to grab me in the car so quickly, but the clothing and room that my parents provided were nothing like my tastes.
“Yes, Carrie.” Jeremy’s voice emphasizes my name in way that makes me feel dizzy. Why does he have this effect on me? Why do I enjoy this? “Are you afraid of me?” Jeremy leans forward in his seat, resting his elbows on his knees.
I can see a rather sizable bulge in his trousers. I gulp. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I should be.” I start talking quickly and force myself to look at him. “Why aren’t I dead, too?” I try not to squeak out that question.
“Why didn’t you tell the police anything about me? You visited Laurel before she died, talked to the cops several times, yet you didn’t tell them that you recognized me? Because we both know that you did.” Jeremy’s eyes look so intently into mine that the temperature in the room becomes sweltering.
I could run to the other end of this house and his eyes would still be on me. I forget how to breathe and wish I could look away, but I don’t. “You didn’t answer the question,” I gasp out finally.
“Why aren’t you sad your classmates are dead?” Jeremy stands up.
I don’t answer and just look up at him, walking towards me.
“Do you want to go back to your parents?” He stands right in front of me.
I stand up, even though he towers over me, and keep looking in his eyes. “Is this my home now?”
Jeremy’s hands close over my upper arms and he squeezes me for a second before he lets his hands drop. “You should get dressed for dinner. I need to start cooking.”
I nod and turn from the couch. As I start to walk away, Jeremy grabs my hand, closing his over mine. “I would never harm you, Carrie.” He brings my hand to his mouth and presses a small kiss there.
I’ve lost my mind. A surge of arousal bolts through me when his lips graze over my skin. Despite everything, I am so incredibly stirred in this moment that I place my hand back on his chest, where I touched him after he killed all those students. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m afraid of who I am when I’m with you.” I turn quickly and walk up the stairs, unable to look at him.